‘There is no life’: The city of Kupiansk’s slow demise symbolizes the outcome of urban centers on Ukraine’s war zone.
Lyubov Lobunets, 77, evacuated her residence in the frontline city in Ukraine of the city of Kupiansk in the month of August when it was hit by a explosive from Russian forces.
“I lived on the fifth floor of a building,” she shared, speaking from a facility for those forced to leave in nearby Kharkiv. “I don’t know whether it was a Russian missile or bomb that hit the building, but it ignited a blaze, and when the fire spread to my floor, I was trapped because the entrance was broken and I was unable to get out.”
The Ukraine’s armed forces, she said, pulled her to safety. But by then a large part of the city, which had a inhabitants prior to the conflict of 27,000, had departed. “During the period preceding my departure, there were a few shops working,” she said. “But that final month, nearly all establishments shut down. All the social services were relocated.”
While attention has centered on the eastern region further south and its cities, including the city of Pokrovsk, Kupiansk in the northern Kharkiv region on the Oskil River has been overlooked. But the steady demise of Kupiansk, as it once was, continued over two years and more, is a symbol for the cities of the war-torn regions, ground in the jaws of Russia’s slow-moving combine of violence.
No longer exists the downtown marketplace selling preserved fish, honey and fresh produce. Dwellings that dotted the incline are shattered by explosions. The countryside outside the city adjacent to the river are punctuated by craters.
Yet the elderly resident expressed her unwillingness to leave. “I served as a nurse and my pension is quite limited,” she said. “I worried of where I would reside and how I’d manage.”
Even until recently some of her friends had stayed behind despite a official order to leave, and as street fighting encroached on some of the city’s peripheral areas. Those who have stayed in the downtown area are clustered close to the athletic arena.
“Some friends contacted to tell me they had climbed up to the top floor to secure a cell signal,” said the evacuee. “They witnessed edifices throughout the area that had been leveled and fires across the city.”
Taken over in the first months of the widespread Russian invasion, the city was liberated in September 2022, mostly intact as Russian forces retreated towards the state line.
The destruction followed subsequently, as the invading army attempted to take it anew, exposing it to air and ground attacks. Its military units moved forward to their current partial encirclement, with invading forces now in various spots on the Oskil’s west bank.
When the city’s leader, Andrii Besedin, was questioned two years ago, it was in his administrative center in the urban core. Now based in Kharkiv, he has not been able to reach the city since the summer.
“Conditions are extremely challenging in Kupiansk. It is on the real ‘zero line’ of hostilities. The enemy troops are attempting to capture the city. They are making efforts on a constant basis. They have put up flags at the outskirts of the city and attempted to declare that they have secured it, but it continues to be in the control of Ukrainian forces,” he said.
These days, he said, there are no buildings that are intact and no services function. There is no natural gas and no electrical supply. “According to our information, there are just over 600 people on the west side of the Oskil River,” said the mayor. “There are evacuations everyday, and now the area for evacuation has been widened because there are enemy forces on the right shore, which the armed forces is attempting to dislodge.”
Previously proclaimed a “place of valor” by the head of state, the president, the Russian attack and the national resistance of the city have been violent and relentless.
While enemy soldiers have faced difficulties crossing the Oskil river – which in this region is between 30 to 100 feet in width – with their tanks and transports, several have arrived at the west side by crawling through disused gas pipes, a metre in diameter, defense units say.
On the national forces’ end, the troop formations in the region have adopted the strategy of releasing razor-sharp nets from their unmanned aerial vehicles to trap enemy soldiers and equipment who struggle to detect and increasingly difficult to escape them.
For both sides the common application of drones has made traveling in the city and the nearby rural areas dangerous, especially in cars and trucks.
In his headquarters, Capt “Caesar” and the military personnel of the 15th Brigade who are operating just to the north of the city monitored drone feeds of forests and open areas on the eastern side of the river for enemy movements.
They asked a drone operator positioned in the combat zone to linger over a dense area of brush and downed trees where they suspected a Russian position might be concealed. “Observe! Right here. See.” A group of troops gathered around the screen. “Could this be the access point to a bunker?” They looked closely, seeking evidence of presence. There was none.
“After we came here our brigade occupied locations that the earlier unit had relinquished,” said the captain. “From the time of our arrival, we haven’t lost any territory and now we are having some small successes regaining control.
“The Russians started using the pipeline to move across at the last part of July, but now every access point to the tubes are under our control. We’ve also seen some attempts to bring vehicles to the other side, but each time they attempt to construct a crossing we destroy them.”
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