o you know how a post office operates during a war? How a postman or postwoman delivers pensions to a destroyed building? Or how a manager issues social benefits somewhere near Bakhmut, seeing people who have spent over a year hiding in basements?
What about road builders working on a road at the contact line as Russian forces fire across it? Or evacuation leaders organising transport for hundreds of people in ordinary train carriages?
These people are bringing victory closer with their work, risking their lives every day. They are motivated not by reward or pay rises, but by the people they cannot turn their backs on during this war.
Ukrainska Pravda.Zhyttia talked to employees of the Ukrainian Postal Service, Ukrainian Railways and the Ukrainian Roads Agency about their genuinely heroic everyday lives.
The postal workers: "I felt scared going into destroyed buildings"
Larysa has been working as a postwoman for the Ukrainian Postal Service, Ukrposhta, in Mykolaiv Oblast for 43 years. Usually, her "clients" are pensioners, as she delivers their pensions to their homes. Larysa talks about them as if they are members of her family, because she has been visiting them at home for many years, chatting to them and sometimes helping them. And they’ve got used to her too. So several times when Larysa wanted to quit her job, it was her clients who persuaded her to stay.
"Today, for example, I brought an extra payment to Andriivna, who is 97 years old. She’s a concentration camp survivor, she has a lot of health problems, and now she can hardly hear. But every time I see her, she smiles," Larysa says.
Larysa has many happy memories from her work. When she looks at multi-storey residential buildings, she fondly remembers each apartment and the person whose pension she used to deliver. Then she adds cautiously that there were many ethnic Russians living in Mykolaiv.
"And one of my Russian ladies, Mrs Valya - she came to the post office recently. She said, ‘Larysa, I'm ashamed that my passport says I'm Russian.’
But probably 80% of the people in Kulbakino are Russians. There’s a Soviet pilot, Mykola Yuriiovych, who is over 70. His daughter lives in Russia; she followed in her father's footsteps and is also a pilot. I once asked him if she ever shoots at us, and he said that she has the right to do so in a war. There are people like that left too," Larysa recounts.
When the full-scale invasion began, Larysa’s main worry was her grandchildren. Her son wanted to go to the front. Larysa reacted emotionally, saying she would go to the front too, but the post office manager turned down her request.
"We have our own front here, a different one: we have to visit people in their homes. At first, I felt scared going into destroyed buildings, but I’ve had to do that twice.
Once I was giving out pensions in one of the buildings. I left, and I’d almost reached the post office when a munition hit the building. The rocket destroyed everything from the third to the first floor. But fortunately, almost everyone had left the building at the time," she recollects.
Mykolaiv after an attack. Stock photo by Gaelle Girbes, Getty Images
The only pensioner who had received a payment that day was injured. She lived on the first floor. Her legs were crushed by a stove, but search and rescue workers came quickly to help her.
Despite regular shelling by the Russians in Mykolaiv Oblast, Larysa has not left and has no intention of leaving. There are no shelters in or near her building. So during the attacks, she takes her documents and goes out into the yard, where she waits for the Russian attack to be over, and then returns to work.
"These people need us"
Anna is the manager of a Ukrposhta branch on the Bakhmut front. The war has brought significant changes to her work, but it hasn't stopped her. Her office is practically on the contact line. In every village on the contact line, there are still pensioners in the basements.
"Working with people is always tough. And now, they are also locked away from the outside world, in emotional tension, with no one to talk to, as if cut off from life. That's why everyone comes and tells us about how they are sitting there, what is happening. There are decent people who are happy to see us. But some come and express their dissatisfaction, and then they apologise, saying they just had to vent," Anna says.
Anna remarks that she has been left practically alone in the Bakhmut central office, which she had previously headed.
"While we were working in Bakhmut, I didn’t allow women who have children to go [and give out pensions – ed.]. They offered to, they insisted, but I wouldn't let them go, because each time I didn't know how the visit would end. There were 25 of them, and now there is no one because they all left. I didn't hold anyone back, because I understand that everyone has a limit to their fear. And it’s almost impossible to find someone new in a war zone," she explains.
A ruined building in Bakhmut. Stock photo by Getty Images
Delivering pensions in an active war zone is dangerous. So Anna works with the military administrations and volunteers, and together they manage to get people together in a certain place at a certain time.
"We had an experience when we agreed with the village heads, who are just pensioners. They said everything was fine. But you can only gather a crowd of 150 people in a place that is really quiet.
For example, in Siversk, there is not a single intact building left. People are living in basements and bomb shelters. I’m not a local and I don’t know where they are hiding. So we agree on a day and place with the administration. There are five distribution points in Siversk, which we visit on different days," she explains.
Anna said that once she had to work under fire.
"There were only two people left in the queue; we were standing behind some buildings. Suddenly a projectile struck an area right behind a five-storey building. That building essentially protected us. We were really scared, but we carried on, because the people needed us.
They look forward to us coming, because we bring essentials as well as money. They are currently being given humanitarian aid – food – but sometimes they want a little sweet treat – a cookie or some sweets. One woman asked us, ‘Do you have any halva? I was really craving it’," Anna recalls.
She adds that she also brings people newspapers, so that they can find some information there – otherwise they have no access to news, and no means of communication.
Little extras from Ukrposhta. Stock photo: Getty Images
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