"I remember every fire attack I came under"

It's been almost six years, but I can still remember every attack I came under. I remember every sleepless night. I can describe the day when it all started in detail, without missing a thing. 

It is a common fact that all the "activities" started near the Donetsk Airport, where my grandmother resided at that time. My mother and I lived in the private sector quite close to the center, in the urban settlement of Putilovka around a five-kilometer zone.

As early as in 2014, there was not a single still-standing house in our settlement. Ours got fired in the middle of autumn.

"Run away from here quickly - it will soon be a massacre here!"

For some reason, I did not pay much attention to my mother's words. However, a couple of hours later, when I was standing at the bus stop going home, I noticed something was wrong. Everyone around looked worried, and after the ambulance drove by, they became even more agitated. "An ambulance is a common thing to see," I thought, unaware what was going on. 

I got off at my stop. The roadway was almost empty. Only one black car with someone talking with a megaphone was going back and forth, but I couldn't make out what was being said. About ten minutes later, I could not see any transport stop at my stop at all. 

So I started running. My throat was so dry with excitement that it was hard to breathe. While I was running, I heard some shots. They seemed to be coming from everywhere. I did not take any notice of them, because I was wondering, "How do I get home?" 

The black car was still driving along the road, and the loudspeaker was saying, "Everyone, please, go home and get out of the carriageway."

All this time I tried to call my mother or someone to clarify the situation and figure out what to do, but to no avail. There were no communications at all: you dial a number and get dropped immediately. 

I left the road and made another attempt to walk to my house through the courtyards, but I was stopped again. They said that I am not allowed to go there. 

At this point a woman looked out of the window of the first floor of an apartment building. She saw that I was standing alone and offered to come by. She was evacuated from her place of employment, and she and her little daughter were waiting for her husband to leave the city together. I stayed at her place for 15-20 minutes. Then my mother called me. She came home from work, and we went home together.

This time no one crossed our path. Apparently, everyone had already left, and there was no one on the street. We walked home safely. It was lunchtime. I told my mother about my adventures, calmed down and almost forgot about all the warnings I had heard in the morning. 

"It was my first night to the sounds of war»

In the evening, when it got dark, we we sitting in the kitchen, drinking tea. Suddenly we heard something like hail or, to be exact, it sounded like as if a huge bucket of hail poured into our yard. But we could not see anything outside the window. 

Not knowing what to do, I texted with my classmates and friends who lived nearby. We shared our experiences. They described their morning stories, and I realised that I was lucky. I spent time in this mode until two in the morning. Then the shooting stopped, and I was able to sleep. 

Exclusion zone and "normal" life

From that day forth, the area from my stop to the airport became an exclusion zone. The road that was always overcrowded before was now empty, and shops, clinics, and other institutions stopped working. The number of abandoned houses gradually increased. 

However, the closer we were to the Center , the more common life seemed there: transport was going, shops were functioning, people were walking along the streets, however, only for a short time. 

Looking back on this year, I can't help but mention something good:

- in view of the the attacks, public services had regular problems with on certain streets of the city, but everything was always repaired very quickly and brought back to normal;

- against the odds, more or less safe areas of the city and the Center  continued to keep the streets clean, watered and watered the lawns.  

I have already spoken of the first but not the last day of my wartime life, which was filled with horror, fear, and despair. The stories would be enough to write a whole book. 

Life at war is: 

– when you try to go to the grocery store as quickly as possible so as not to be on the street if shooting has begun; 

– when you hear a shooting attack, you have to go down to the basement with a heart in your throat, collect your things and leave. And when everything goes quiet, you don't even want to go up; 

– when you understand that a mobile operator's response "the subscriber is currently unavailable" might actually be reason for concern; 

– when you like thunderstorms, because you will definitely not hear the sound of shooting in this weather: 

– when later you start a new life in another city and at first you shudder from the sounds of fireworks, and when you are asleep it seems that you are in your home bed, and everything is fine outside the window…