"Two months felt like a continuous day of horror": Life in occupied Vysokopillia in the Kherson region

Liudmyla, a 60-year-old resident of Kherson, now lives in Odesa. At the beginning of the full-scale invasion, fleeing from Russian military aggression, she moved to the village of Vysokopillia in the Beryslav district. However, within a few days, the village was occupied. She managed to evacuate two months later, covering 20 kilometres on foot. Despite the passage of time, it is still difficult for Liudmyla to recall the events of those days. For Intent, she makes an exception, but due to security concerns, she asks not to indicate her surname or provide her photos.

Eating Livestock Feed and Praying to Stay Alive

Liudmyla's house is located in the Kherson suburbs, near the Antonivskyi Bridge. That's why her family spent the night of February 24-25 in the basement. She says it was very loud, and they could hear everything from machine gun fire to bombers dropping bombs. Worried about her granddaughters, Liudmyla and her husband decided to go to their relatives in Vysokopillia in the Beryslav raion.

"There were seven of us in the car. We couldn't take much stuff, and there was no room for it. My husband and daughter packed something in their suitcases, but I was too afraid to go upstairs for anything. So, I left in my tracksuit and sneakers. We travelled along field roads to avoid crossing paths with the Russians," Liudmyla explains.

She adds that they believed they were going to a safer and calmer place, thinking the Russian military would not reach that far. However, the situation changed within a week. The village lost power and mobile phone service the day before the Russians entered, making it impossible to leave. The occupiers blocked all the roads and did not let anyone out.

The family's house in Vysokopillia. Photo provided by the interviewee

"They behaved very brazenly and were not afraid of anything. First, they looted grocery stores and shops selling household appliances. In a construction store, they staged a 'fire show,' setting fire to paints, varnishes, and other materials. Then it got worse because their attention turned to the civilians: they would take away young boys – some of whom are still missing and being searched for by their families – and they would shoot people. The family I knew died this way. They wanted to congratulate their mother on her 70th birthday and went outside with an armful of roses. At that moment, a Z-marked car stopped nearby; Russian soldiers jumped out and opened fire on them. Just like that, for no reason. However, the Head of the community did not remain silent; he went to their /Russians’/ commander and asked him to stop killing civilians. The commander responded by arranging a public execution of those soldiers in the centre of the village," - says Liudmyla.

Despite such punishments, Liudmyla says, the occupiers did not stop committing crimes. Her family experienced these acts firsthand. They lost their cars: the Russian military took one of them and damaged the windows and engine of the other with rifle butts, making it unusable.

Liudmyla recalls another /occupiers’/ visit as follows: "They jumped in and hit my husband in the arms with a weapon so hard that he bled. Then they took everyone out into the yard and lined us up at gunpoint. They searched the house, taking phones, money, and some other things. Before they left, they forbade us to close the gates and doors, threatening us if we disobeyed".

Vysokopillia was surrounded by the Russian military, and no supplies were delivered. Food was running out, and since there was no power, some foodstuff in storage had gone off. People were saved from starvation by feeding on their livestock's feed.

"We would use feed grain called "dert" (unprocessed crushed grain for feeding livestock) by sifting it and making pancakes from this flour. We’d cook over a fire because there was no gas or water in the village. We also made porridge with that "dert" – putting a piece of fried lard on top was a real treat," Liudmyla says.

The nights were the worst: the fighting intensified, shells constantly flew over, and the explosions almost never stopped. At the same time, the occupiers would speed around the village, organising races. The village would literally freeze at the first sound of cars, hiding because it was impossible to see them – the headlights were covered, painted over, or broken.
"My granddaughters were 19 and 10 years old at the time. We were very afraid for them because we knew about cases of rape of young girls. So, they would spend their nights in the neighbouring house's basement, which was dilapidated and did not attract the Russians' attention. March was very cold, and the rain just wouldn’t stop. The girls would wrap themselves in the layers of blankets, but they were still freezing. It was a complete nightmare. I prayed daily that it would end and that everyone would survive it", - says Liudmyla.

20 Kilometres on Foot: The Journey to "Our People"

Liudmyla emphasises that the support and cohesion of the locals helped her survive the occupation. People shared homemade eggs, milk, vegetables, home-baked bread, and other essentials. They also helped each other with animal care, particularly with water, which was available only in a few yards that had wells. People used to put filled troughs on the streets, especially for the cattle.

A family house in Vysokopillia. Photo provided by the interviewee

"Once, my daughter-in-law and her friend rode their bicycles to the House of Culture /a community centre/, where the Russians were staying. In the early days of the war, local residents had collected humanitarian aid for our military in one of the rooms there. While the Russians were away, the girls broke a window and got inside to get food. The women gathered full bags of food there, a little bit of everything, and then delivered it to people. That's how Ukrainian women are!", - says Liudmyla with a smile.

It took two months for Liudmyla's family to get out of the occupation, and it wasn't on the first attempt. She explains, "Our authorities negotiated to open a green corridor for the village. On April 20, the buses of the Red Cross of Ukraine were supposed to arrive from Kryvyi Rih. Many people gathered in the central square, probably several thousand — pensioners, children, people with disabilities. Everyone was in anticipation. Unfortunately, some didn’t make it and died there. But at 5 pm, the occupiers started to force us back to our homes, saying there would be no evacuation. It was such despair".

Two days later, on April 23, there was a second attempt. The news that the Russian military was letting people out of the village came as a surprise to the family. They packed up in a matter of minutes and set off on a difficult journey, joining the crowd. To reach the government-controlled territory of Ukraine, they had to pay a kind of fee at Russian checkpoints – alcohol, cigarettes, cash – and cover 20 kilometres on foot.

The family's car after the occupiers' visit. Photo provided by the interviewee

‘My mother could not walk. We didn't have a car, so we took a construction wheelbarrow, put a blanket and a pillow in it and put her in it. On the way, the wheel fell off. We had to put my mother on the bicycle, it was terrible... She was crying because she was in pain... But we got her there,’ the woman recalls with tears. 

Out of helplessness, the Kherson woman even risked stopping a car with Ukrainian flags driving towards them. However, the people around were warning her against it, as they believed it was a provocation by the occupiers. 

"When the soldiers got out of the car, we realised that they were ours. They were so nice and friendly, beyond words... They immediately began to help: they carried my mother into the cabin in their arms, put me and my granddaughter in the car and drove us to the Ukrainian checkpoints. You know, we didn’t have time to explain anything to the child. She just came up to the guys, hugged them, cried and asked: ‘Are you ours? Are you Ukrainians?’ They calmed her down and gave her an Easter cake. After the flatbread made of animal feed, my granddaughter could not believe she could eat this delicious bun by herself", - says Liudmyla. 

Vysokopillia was under Russian occupation for 7 months and was de-occupied on 4 September 2022.  

The main thing is life, everything else can be recovered

Liudmyla says it took some time to adapt to life outside the occupation. It was unusual to see the windows of full shops and people walking freely on the streets. At that time, Kherson was still under the temporary control of the Russian military, so the family could not return home.

‘I was deeply unsettled. You used to have everything, and now there was nothing left. We gradually got used to the new reality thanks to volunteers and caring people. Psychological sessions, art therapy, and just casual communication helped a lot. Now I understand that life is the most important thing for anyone. Of course, it is unsettling to lose what we had, but it is not critical. We are alive and healthy; we managed to survive and escape the horror; we must continue living and appreciate every new day,’ says the Kherson woman. 

A house in Kherson. Photo provided by the interviewee 

Odesa became the third city to accept her as an IDP. She plans to stay here until the security situation allows her to return to Kherson. This is despite the family's house being damaged by shelling. In particular, the doors, windows, roof, and walls were shattered. The garden suffered a direct strike, which not only burnt the plants but also cut off the gas supply. 

‘We will restore it. We built this house with my husband – it’s our family’s legacy. We invested there a part of our soul and so many memories. So, I think everything is ahead. We just pray that the Kherson region’s left bank will be liberated as soon as possible and that people will see the day of their return home,’ says Liudmyla. 

The work on this material was made possible by the Fight for Facts project, which has been implemented with the financial support of the German Federal Ministry for Economic Cooperation and Development.

Яніна Надточа, Ігор Льов