Makarova Alyona, 16 years old

Winner of the 2024 essay contest, 2st place

Kherson Basic Medical College

 

«1000 days of war. My way»

Day passes, night passes, the thousandth day of the heroic struggle of our people for the right to live, breathe, love, give birth to children, go to bed and not think that tomorrow will not come for you. The thousandth day is passing Who would have thought? 1000!

How many tears, fear, despair and prayers are behind us, how much hope, strength, confidence, lust for life and dreams are ahead.

When I was in the 2nd grade, on the eve of May 9, as usual, we were told about the war, about children on the labour fronts and the help of young people in hospitals, factories, and menial jobs. At the time, I listened and did not believe it was possible. And now I am a medical student who has sworn to go to the frontline at all costs after graduation.

Mum, did I think that I, then still a young thirteen-year-old child, would have to hear machine gun fire, distinguish which shell exploded nearby, provide first aid and see tanks up close?  It's scary. This is not the life our young people deserve.

I keep remembering that first terrible morning. My sister's call: ‘Mum, mummy, the war has started! Chornobaivka is under fire’. Then the first air raid alert. It was four in the morning, and my city was still basking in its dreams. The majestic Dnipro River was gently covering Kherson with a blanket of thick fog, and the insidious enemy was already pouring blood on the left bank of the river.

The sun was barely rising over the horizon, the snow had not yet completely melted, so it seemed that the whole earth was covered with a tablecloth of crystal patterns, on which the damned tanks were shamelessly driving, shattering thousands of human lives.

Hit. Bridge. Hit. ‘The factory. Hit. Our street. Bloody murderers! It's hard. There's no food, you're hungry, but you endure it. There are many of us: me, my mum, dad, sister, two grandmothers, nephews, a dog and a cat. Mum gives me a chocolate bar. I eat it, it's delicious. You fall into a terrible dream lasting 9 months.

The occupation bore and gave birth to us as new Ukrainians who can, want and will fight for freedom, break the rock as Franko bequeathed, break the centuries-old chains as Shevchenko bequeathed, laugh through tears like the indomitable Lesia. 9 months. It's symbolic:)

We have been without water, heating and electricity for at least a month. No one mentions communication. It's morning, about 7 o'clock. Bang! Bang! Mum wakes me up and takes me to the corridor. I'm exhausted after a hard night - it's the damn Muscovites fleeing from the raped and completely looted Kherson. 11 November, 4 pm. The city is in shock. Neighbours say that our people are in the city.

Ours? It can't be. Dad takes out an old radio, a piece of copper wire and something else - and pop! There's a signal!

Is it the president? Mr Zelensky? A speech! ‘We waited and finally got it. The city of Kherson has been liberated from the Russian occupiers. Glory to Ukraine!’ Mum, mummy, we are free! There will be life! Will there be life?

December 1. Miraculously alive. Three mines and a rocket hit the house. I will not forgive. Bastards!

At night, as always, it is treacherous. Is everyone okay? Get to the basement! Glass, wires, ashes in the air. Neighbours, friends. Is there blood? The dog was carried in my arms so that he wouldn't cut his legs, the cat was in a carrier. They were alive.

December 10. Phosphorus. An urgent trip between shelling. We got to Kropyvnytskyi. We were flying.

My dad was afraid, my mum was crying quietly, and I hugged my sister. An unknown city gave me the opportunity to volunteer at a rehabilitation centre for soldiers, to fulfil my dream of performing with flanking numbers, and to finish 9th grade.

But no matter how good it was, my heart was torn to go home, because there are my special people - strong, brave, courageous, at the same time gentle and friendly, affectionate and smiling.

We came back home to be able to help the Ukrainian Armed Forces, which is what we are doing now. My dad, after some treatment, joined the ranks of the Defenders of Ukraine and now he guards my sleep, our sleep, our breakfasts, our lives.

Recently, I received an incredible thank you from our guys. They found me by the call sign I was given in the rehabilitation centre.

After the de-occupation, I distributed knitted Ukrainian hearts to the rescuers-heroes, which I had been preparing for 9 months - I filled them with filler, bags, and my sister's notes. So, one of the soldiers wrote that he was carrying a heart in his breast pocket, a circle of heart. He came under fire, and a shell fragment got stuck in the talisman, without hitting the soldier.

Such is the amazing power of prayer of Kherson girls!