"But we have no choice. It's either fight or disappear. Send us weapons and cognac, and we'll fight so you won't have to." We’ve never stopped talking since. We promised each other we’d drink a beer—or more—in Kyiv when it’s all over.
Full-scale invasion and national resilience, broadcasted live.
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Soldiers in Lyman under fire, fear and signs of the cross
May 9, 2022, Lyman. The city has just fallen. Soldiers wait under a canopy, some making the orthodox sign of the cross while machine-gun fire rains down around them. Honestly, I'm scared. And you, Slava? "Of course I'm scared!" replies the masked soldier.
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Two bodies arrive at the medical post in Lyman in May 2022
9 May 2022, Lyman, medical post. Two bodies have just arrived. The teams open the body bags, recover the effects, phones, cigarette packs, tourniquet, bulletproof vest. One of the soldiers is bloodied. The other looks like he is sleeping as in a poem by Rimbaud.
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7 May 2022, Lyman: Su-25 Flying Low
7/ Mai 2022, Lyman. Un Sukhoï 25 russe survole notre tranchée en rase-motte. S’il lâche ses bombes, c’est fini pour nous. Le bruit des tuyères est assourdissant. On n’a pas le temps d’avoir peur ou de serrer les fesses. Comme un con, je filme. pic.twitter.com/v8T7x3sq9x
— Nicolas Delesalle (@KoliaDelesalle) 24 février 20237 May 2022, Lyman. A Russian Su-25 flies low over our trench. If it drops its bombs, we're done for. The roar of the engines is deafening. We don’t have time to be afraid or to shit our pants. Like an idiot, I film it.
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Larmes au téléphone, vide mental et une cigarette
Elles finissent toutes les deux en larmes au téléphone. Je fume une clope dans un état de vide mental.
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A distressed Ukrainian mother, translated by a Russian mother
6/ A hooded lady. She is crying. She has lost her daughter, her home. I don't have a translator. I call my mother in France, she is of Russian origin, daughter of White Russians. My Russian mother translates for me the words of a Ukrainian woman whose life has been pulverized by Russian bombs.
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Oleg standing on the ruins after the bombing of Zhytomyr
February 29. Zhytomyr, 8 a.m. Four 500-kg bombs just vaporized a residential area. Oleg stands on the ruins of his house. His wife died protecting his daughter, who survived. He is stunned, he speaks without stopping. It is snowing.
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Sirens, memories, and lost life: Oleg’s cry
The sirens suddenly start to wail. Oleg is stunned: "The last time I heard these sirens, my wife was alive."
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Shout and Flight: A War Evoked by a Child
Knocking raps at the door of our already full compartment. Children scream. Next to me, a woman holds her eight-year-old child's hands in hers. He is terrified by the cries: 'This is what war is,' Chauvel says.
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Fleeing and bombings in Ukraine
4/ 25 février. La fuite. L’exode. Tous les trains sont pris d’assaut. Les gens hurlent. Débâcle. Est-ce que Kiev sera prise demain ? On entend le sol trembler à la gare de Zaporijia. Bombardement. Les gens abandonnent tout. pic.twitter.com/8xV4cLtp8g
— Nicolas Delesalle (@KoliaDelesalle) 24 février 2023February 25. Fleeing. The exodus. All trains are overwhelmed. People scream. Disaster. Will Kiev fall tomorrow? The ground shakes at Zaporizhzhia station. Bombing. People abandon everything.