The Donetsk region of eastern Ukraine has long been in Moscow's sights. Vladimir Putin reportedly says he'll freeze the war in return for full control of it. Russia already controls 70% of Donetsk and nearly all of neighbouring Luhansk - and is making slow but steady advances.
I'm heading to the front-line Donetsk town of Dobropillia with two humanitarian volunteers, just 8km (five miles) from Russia's positions. They're on a mission to bring the sick, elderly, and children to safer ground. At first, it goes like clockwork. We speed into the town in an armoured car, equipped with rooftop drone-jamming equipment, hitting 130km/h (80mph). The road is covered in tall green netting which obscures visibility from above - protecting it from Russian drones.
This is their second trip of the morning, and the streets are mostly empty. The few remaining residents only leave their homes to quickly collect supplies. Russian attacks come daily. The town already looks abandoned and has been without water for a week. Every building we pass has been damaged, with some reduced to ruins. In the previous five days, Laarz, a 31-year-old German, and Varia, a 19-year-old Ukrainian, who work for the charity Universal Aid Ukraine, have made dozens of trips to evacuate people.
A week earlier, small groups of Russian troops breached the defences around the town, sparking fears that the front line of Ukraine's so-called fortress belt - some of the most heavily defended parts of the Ukrainian front - could collapse. Extra troops were rushed to the area and Ukrainian authorities say the situation has been stabilised. But most of Dobropillia's residents feel it's time to go.
As the evacuation team arrives, Vitalii Kalinichenko, 56, is waiting on the doorstep of his apartment block, with a plastic bag full of belongings in hand. My windows were all smashed, look, they all flew out on the second floor. I'm the only one left, he says. He's wearing a grey t-shirt and black shorts, and his right leg is bandaged. Mr. Kalinichenko points to a crater beyond some rose bushes where a Shahed drone crashed a couple of nights earlier, shattering his windows and cutting his leg. The engine from another drone lies in a neighbour's garden.
Laarz spots a drone overhead and we take cover again under trees. A series of blasts hit the neighbourhood. A woman, out to fetch water with her dog, runs for cover. But before we can attempt to leave, there is still another family to be rescued, just around the corner.
In the evacuation convoy, I sit beside Anton, 31. His mother stayed behind. She cried as he departed and he hopes she will leave too soon. Anton says he's never left the town before. We need to sit at the negotiation table and after all resolve this conflict in a peaceful way. Without blood, without victims, he says.
The situation in Donbas is increasingly perilous for Ukraine as Russia slowly but steadily advances. President Volodymyr Zelensky has scoffed at suggestions that it could be lost by the end of this year, predicting it would take four more years for Russia to fully occupy what remains. If lost or given to Russia, neighbouring Kharkiv and Zaporizhia regions – and beyond – would be at greater risk.
The medical cost of holding on is measured in soldiers' lives and body parts. Later, I visit a National Guard field hospital where medics work under the cover of darkness. Russian casualties may be higher, but its military can absorb losses more easily. The urgency of evacuations continues as the occupation looms.
I'm heading to the front-line Donetsk town of Dobropillia with two humanitarian volunteers, just 8km (five miles) from Russia's positions. They're on a mission to bring the sick, elderly, and children to safer ground. At first, it goes like clockwork. We speed into the town in an armoured car, equipped with rooftop drone-jamming equipment, hitting 130km/h (80mph). The road is covered in tall green netting which obscures visibility from above - protecting it from Russian drones.
This is their second trip of the morning, and the streets are mostly empty. The few remaining residents only leave their homes to quickly collect supplies. Russian attacks come daily. The town already looks abandoned and has been without water for a week. Every building we pass has been damaged, with some reduced to ruins. In the previous five days, Laarz, a 31-year-old German, and Varia, a 19-year-old Ukrainian, who work for the charity Universal Aid Ukraine, have made dozens of trips to evacuate people.
A week earlier, small groups of Russian troops breached the defences around the town, sparking fears that the front line of Ukraine's so-called fortress belt - some of the most heavily defended parts of the Ukrainian front - could collapse. Extra troops were rushed to the area and Ukrainian authorities say the situation has been stabilised. But most of Dobropillia's residents feel it's time to go.
As the evacuation team arrives, Vitalii Kalinichenko, 56, is waiting on the doorstep of his apartment block, with a plastic bag full of belongings in hand. My windows were all smashed, look, they all flew out on the second floor. I'm the only one left, he says. He's wearing a grey t-shirt and black shorts, and his right leg is bandaged. Mr. Kalinichenko points to a crater beyond some rose bushes where a Shahed drone crashed a couple of nights earlier, shattering his windows and cutting his leg. The engine from another drone lies in a neighbour's garden.
Laarz spots a drone overhead and we take cover again under trees. A series of blasts hit the neighbourhood. A woman, out to fetch water with her dog, runs for cover. But before we can attempt to leave, there is still another family to be rescued, just around the corner.
In the evacuation convoy, I sit beside Anton, 31. His mother stayed behind. She cried as he departed and he hopes she will leave too soon. Anton says he's never left the town before. We need to sit at the negotiation table and after all resolve this conflict in a peaceful way. Without blood, without victims, he says.
The situation in Donbas is increasingly perilous for Ukraine as Russia slowly but steadily advances. President Volodymyr Zelensky has scoffed at suggestions that it could be lost by the end of this year, predicting it would take four more years for Russia to fully occupy what remains. If lost or given to Russia, neighbouring Kharkiv and Zaporizhia regions – and beyond – would be at greater risk.
The medical cost of holding on is measured in soldiers' lives and body parts. Later, I visit a National Guard field hospital where medics work under the cover of darkness. Russian casualties may be higher, but its military can absorb losses more easily. The urgency of evacuations continues as the occupation looms.
