In Ukraine's 'fortress,' soldiers struggle to save a city almost empty of life
Ukrainians say the Russians are changing their tactics as they press a slow-moving, bloody offensive
A paint-chipped, smoky wood stove is the only source of heat in an abandoned, drafty home where a Ukrainian artillery gun crew has been sent to rest.
The tired members of this tight-knit group are normally dragging an old Soviet-style 122 millimetre D-30 howitzer around the smoldering ruins of Bakhmut, the eastern Ukrainian city described by President Volodomyr Zelenskyy as the country's "fortress."
The city — and the gun crew — have held on through the months of bitter, relentless fighting that turned this once sedate provincial town of 73,000, nestled in the rough folds and jagged cuts of coal-rich Donbas, into an enormous graveyard.
The gun crew's billet — hidden behind a high, gated wall and sheltered by a web of tree branches bearing rotting, frost-scorched fruit — is far enough away from the fighting to allow the troops to relax, but close enough for occasional crunch of artillery to remind them of what they left behind.
As nearby Russian troops press a grinding, slow-motion offensive, the Ukrainians sleep with their rifles and body armour beside their beds.
CBC News was granted access to the Ukrainian National Guard artillery unit, whose members offered first-hand accounts of how the Russian army is changing tactics and, in some cases, becoming more deadly. They provided a fascinating glimpse of the techniques that have allowed the Ukrainian military to hold on.
Aside from their ingenuity and fighting skills (and the Russian military's apparent inability to cross even small rivers), the Ukrainians have benefited, said one soldier, from their ability to rapidly treat casualties — battlefield first aid skills taught to them by Canadians through the Operation Unifier training mission.
For those still hunkered down in the embattled region, and those who've fled to safety in nearby Ukrainian cities, the whys and hows matter little as they grapple with bigger questions about how to survive and when — or even if — they want to go home.
It could be a long time.
Most observers agree Moscow's long-anticipated offensive to claim all of the Donetsk and Luhansk regions has rumbled to life, with its territorial gains to date amounting to one or two-kilometre stretches.
According to a British Ministry of Defence assessment, the Russians are paying an enormous price in blood for that territory: Russia is now losing soldiers at a rate higher than it was at the beginning of the full-scale invasion almost a year ago. Ukraine's General Staff estimates Russian losses at over 800 killed each day, a figure that could not be independently verified.
A career soldier who was trained by Canadians (CBC News is using only his first name, Volodymyr, in keeping with Ukrainian military identity restrictions) said he and his comrades have been fighting in Bakhmut since October and have watched the agony of the city as it has been torn apart block by block.
"Behind the river, it is like completely, completely ruined, completely grey and just burned out," he said.
"Some areas of the city just don't have buildings because they are ruined and burned."
The Russians, he said, changed tactics recently and are now attacking more often in smaller groups, without the support of tanks and armoured personnel carriers — perhaps because of the heavy losses they've already sustained.
"They used to send big groups, like 20 people, to force our positions. Now that changes completely," Volodymyr said. "For example, during the night, with night vision, you can almost see his face in front of you because now they are small groups, up to five people, very quietly [trying] to take our positions."
He said the Russians also appear to have gotten better at hiding from drones. Social media has been awash in images and video of Ukrainian drone strikes on unsuspecting Russian soldiers.
In an ominous sign for the Ukrainians, the Russians are also getting better at coordinating their artillery.
"They are learning. They are evolving and, yes, it's more scary for us, but the main thing for us is to learn how to fight against that, to find another way to defeat them," Volodymyr said.
Ukrainian soldiers' ability to hold the line has been backstopped by their battlefield medicine skills — skills Volodymyr said were "taken to a whole new level" by Canadian training delivered before the full invasion.
"I can definitely state that we saved many, many lives because those who were injured, they didn't die and we knew how to properly help them," he said. "Canadian instructors and trainers helped us and I'm very thankful for that."
Another soldier, Denys, agreed. He said the battle of Bakhmut has been a bloodbath for the Russians because they don't possess the same skills.
"The Russians send their soldiers to die and the Bakhmut battle won't be in their schoolbooks," Denys said. "There is nothing for them to brag about ... this is just a craziness from the side of Russians."
There are no reliable estimates of Russian or Ukrainian casualties. The Ukrainian General Staff estimates that since the full invasion began on Feb. 24, 2022, roughly 139,000 Russian troops have been killed or wounded. It only acknowledges up to 13,000 Ukrainians troops killed.
The Norwegian army, however, estimated last month that Ukraine's casualties were much higher — perhaps as high as 100,000 killed or wounded.
Beyond life-saving battlefield skills, the training by Canada and other western allies had the benefit of giving Ukrainians confidence, according to the former civilian adviser to the commander of Ukraine's special forces.
"Training has more than one result," Denys Podanchuk told CBC News last week, before the visit with the gun crew. "It's not only new knowledge, it's not only new possibilities. It's added something to your motivation. It makes you strong. For sure, all these training were very, very useful."
Denys, the gun crew commander, said the confidence he and his men have in their training, in their ability to take care of one another, has kept him going in Bakhmut since October.
"These moments [we] were on every combat duty," Denys said. "How to tell? There are the moments, for example, when the enemy's artillery started working on us. Everyone stayed alive that time. Is this a good moment? I think it's a very good moment. It will be remembered 'til the end of my life."
Most of Bakhmut's civilian population has fled. Some estimates suggest that less than one per cent of the city's pre-war population of 73,000 remain amid the ruins.
Hundreds of kilometres away, across the wide, calm Dnieper River, Viktoria Kopotko lives in a shelter in Dnipro. She fled Bakhmut with her daughter, Yuilia, last September as the fighting intensified.
Day-to-day existence became unbearable "without gas heating, water supplement and electricity," she said.
"Life became like that only after the war started," she said, "but before it we had work, salaries, and my daughter studied. Everything was as it should be. We had a nice and stable life."
With the war entering its second year, she's focused on surviving as a displaced family. Her 12-year-old daughter used to ask regularly when they would return home.
Viktoria Kopotko has no answer. She doesn't know if they'll be able to return — or what they would find if they did.
When asked recently if she wanted to go home, Yuilia appeared to have given up.
"No, there's nothing to do," she said. "The city is destroyed."
CBC News has been on the ground covering Russia's invasion of Ukraine from the start. What do you want to know about their experience there? Send an email to ask@cbc.ca. Our reporters will be taking your questions as the one-year anniversary approaches.
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