War stories from Ukraine: “Have you ever been under fire, a hurricane and a tornado?

The roof of the shelter was reinforced with railway beams and iron plates. We were sweating fear, and the hair on our skin smelled like burning; With the wind howling above us, and in our guts. With the noise of bombs, missiles and planes that did not stop.

Do you know what the Russians are doing with us? This was the message sent to me by our friend Pavel, from Mikolayiv: one of the Russophones of Eastern Ukraine that the Russians claim to defend. He asks us:-“ Have you ever been under fire, a hurricane and a tornado? Today, at four in the morning, we were. We were in hell. In Dante’s inferno, and we go through it, miraculously saved.

The roof of the shelter was reinforced with railway beams and iron plates, which were deformed by high temperatures. We were sweating fear, and the hair on our skin smelled like burning; With the wind howling above us, and in our guts. With the noise of bombs, missiles and planes that did not stop. A madness of which we are part, entails. Because they want Odessa, and to get there they have to take Mikolayiv.

They attack us from Donbas and from the periphery. We’re surrounded, and they’re furious that we won’t give in. Because we don’t give in.” Here ended his message and we do not know more about him. How can one man – Russian men – do this to an entire country?

How? Why so much cruelty? It is unbearable to watch. People lose everything: home, loved ones, animals, and faith in humanity. There is nothing but tears, only hope that God sees it all!

Of course, it is better to let some Ukrainians disappear… And no, I am not judging anyone… There is a God for that. And he will judge everyone fairly! He lives and rejoice, because they have not yet come to you! God is with you!

Right now there is an air battle over our city. They send us rockets from Zaporozhye, which fly over our city. Our fighter planes shoot them down.

Cat and mouse from thunder trails. It’s already 16 hours. For how long yet? The Russians – I have to refrain from using the words with which we name them – do not take risks, not even with their planes, because they know who they are up against. They prefer to bombard us from afar, where they are protected.

They spill their tartar of iron and fire, their hurricane, while getting drunk. Just as they do with the refugees, who are extorted with vodka and money to get through their controls. That is Ukraine, today.

I look at the ceiling and our shelter has no beams, no steel plates. Just brick, on top of my daughters.

**The authors of these chronicles are friends who have been writing together for 15 years. Alisha Lyubitskaya is a multidisciplinary psychologist and artist, and Rodrigo García-Golmar, a writer and jurist.

In the authors’ own words, “these chronicles are born out of the need to distract the mind, appease the anguish of war with two daughters in the shelter, under constant attacks at twelve degrees below zero at night.”