The road to life: how is the evacuation of civilians from Konstantinovka taking place?
Civilians continue to be evacuated from Konstantinovka, the birthplace of Nonna Mordyukova and the place where the Kremlin's ruby stars were created. The process is extremely complicated by the situation with drones: every exit is a game with death. The evacuees are being sent to temporary accommodation facilities in the DPR. One of them is located in a village near Makeyevka. Ten days ago, a group of 21 residents arrived here. A special correspondent of Izvestia met with the Konstantinovites and found out what their path to salvation was.
Get used to the silence
The cool twilight vaults of the local administrative building. Rooms with 7-15 people each, with beds and cots inside. Imported water — 7 cubic meters for two days. The role of the dining room is performed by the foyer — meals are served three times a day.
A man is sitting at a chessboard at a dining table in a temporary accommodation facility, solving problems. Some people read books, but almost no one has smartphones. On the shelves there is a collapse of volumes brought by local residents. Among the authors are Dumas, Fenimore Cooper, Herzen, Remarque, the memoirs of the main Soviet partisan Kovpak — "From Putivl to the Carpathians", Medvedev — "On the shores of the Southern Bug" about the Vinnitsa underground. Most of them, however, are not up to books. They go over their experiences in memory and conversations, come to their senses (they had to spend at least a year in shelters), try to figure out what's next, where to go, how to build the future. Almost everyone lost their homes. There is no way back. Just like there is no hometown. We have applied for a Russian passport, and the issue is being resolved on an expedited basis.
There are seven women in one of the rooms. Dark—faced Oksana: lost her son - covered with slabs after an artillery raid. She says that she hid with others in a humanitarian center at a kindergarten, and 50 people still remain there, unable to leave, including children.
Olga Vladimirovna is a former greenhouse worker at the plant. Her house burned down.
"We got out thanks to a Russian soldier," she says in a thin voice. — Nine people were moving in a group, including a man in a wheelchair. We hit an antipersonnel mine on the way. I was shot in the arm. There's still a fragment inside, the doctors said it's dangerous to take it out, there's a nerve nearby...
Another inhabitant of the PVR is Marina, a former crane operator at the long—defunct Avtosteklo plant. He shares that he still can't get used to the silence. And her main impression after the evacuation was (and still is) whole houses, windows, and moms with strollers walking the streets.
The other neighbor, the most elderly, is named Tamara Alexandrovna. When her apartment burned down, she moved to another one. But there is no light, no heat, no water. With the onset of frost, she frostbitten her hands, and went outside in desperation.
"I'm walking and crying," she recalls. — Let them kill you right away!
And she also asked for help from the Mother of God. I met a man, turned to him: "Uncle, take me in, I'm dying..." The man turned out to be a church watchman. He brought the unfortunate woman to the lower temple, where two more women were huddled. They lived in it for six months.
— Tomorrow I want to go to the church in the neighboring village. They gave me 100 rubles for the trip," Tamara Alexandrovna says. — Thank God for helping me survive.
Wait and endure
Tatiana and her two adult sons Denis and Sergey lived in the western part of Konstantinovka. In the private sector. They were engaged in entrepreneurship, ran two outlets, sold perfumes and hats. Both sons are engineers by education. But since the industry in the city died and it became impossible to get a job in the specialty, they chose a family business.
"We thought the military action would pass us by," the mother sighs. — But no, we were in the very epicenter. They did not evacuate to Ukraine. The main danger is mobilization. It's up to the first checkpoint. And we have relatives in Russia. We decided to endure and wait...
The front approached the city in May 2025. At the same time, Tatiana and her sons equipped places for overnight stays in the cellar, installed a stove there. Shops, pharmacies, and hospitals were no longer open. We saved supplies from the garden and accumulated humanitarian aid. There were water wells in the courtyard. I had to run to the well, to get firewood, and back. Mortars were continuously hitting. And drones swarmed in the sky.
— The first time it came to us in February, a 120—millimeter mine pierced through the house, both floors, got stuck in the refrigerator and did not explode, - says the elder Sergey. — What to do in such a situation? There's no one to turn to. They took her and her brother carefully and carried her outside, putting her far away in a clearing. On the same day, a drone flew in, hit the wall of the house, and a fire broke out. They managed to put it out. We took care of our housing as best we could. In March, the house burned down after direct hits. Along with the car. There was nothing left.
Without end or edge
On the morning of July 28, Sergei heard footsteps and voices at the police station. My younger brother was sleeping in the cellar, and my mother went to pick apples.
"Two soldiers appeared," says the eldest. - "Who are you?" — they pointed machine guns at me. "I live here. And who are you, whose are you?" The guys showed patches with the Russian flag. "Is there anyone else?" — They asked. I say, "Brother, mother. Let me call you." They said, "No, stay here, we'll wait!" When they waited, they asked: "Will you evacuate?" We replied: "Yes." Then they drew a route for us on the map. And they explained: "You'll walk part of the way alone. You're safer without us. Otherwise, they will definitely be beaten. It is necessary to leave tomorrow at seven in the morning."
The next day, we took backpacks and bags and set off. We were just walking along the road. Under the open sky. At your own risk.
— The picture is scary, — says Tatiana. —Corpses, corpses, the smell. Everything is covered in mines, shells, "petals", some kind of fuses with light sensors, equipped drones waiting to rise. There was no end to it...
It took about two hours to get to the desired point. On the approach to the agreed place, a copter appeared overhead, as it turned out — its own, welcoming one. He greeted her, swaying from side to side. In a certain location, he "nodded" — "Here!". Next, Tatiana, Sergei and Denis were led by the military — through landings, "postcards", ravines. They explained: "We are responsible for you with our heads!" In total, the family spent 13 hours on the road, covered 30 km without stopping. We narrowly escaped the kamikaze attacks, but we didn't hit anything. A man was blown up by a landmine in a group that was walking along the same road the next day. Another group of eight people was hit by drones three times, injuring everyone.
They were taken to Artemovsk in a pickup truck. And there they were escorted to a shelter underground. We were fed, watered, examined at the medical center, fluorography was done, a shower was organized, and a separate room was allocated. The next day, they were sent to the rear, to a transshipment checkpoint. Then another one. And finally, here — near Makeyevka.
Like the others, all three are adapting to the new conditions. We called our relatives in Russia and said the main thing: "We are alive!"
To the questions "What is missing? What is required first?" Denis, Sergey, Tatiana, Marina, Oksana, Tamara Alexandrovna, and other guests of the RVR say the same thing: "Some financial means to start a new life with something. And human support. We are very tired."
Переведено сервисом «Яндекс Переводчик»
