In March 2022, Russian troops committed unrestrained atrocities against Ukrainian civilians and prisoners of war during an occupation of Bucha, a suburb of Kyiv. Bucha’s undisputable evidence of mass executions, rape, torture, and the cynical mass deportation of children prompted the civilized world to demand charges of war crimes reaching into the upper echelons of Russian military and civilian power, even to Vladimir Putin himself.
We know about the Bucha atrocities because Ukrainian troops retook the city a month later. Now, as Ukrainian settlements fall to Russia’s eastern offensive, we have little information about the myriad “Buchas” that are being absorbed into the unrecognized “people’s republics” of Ukraine’s Donbas region by Russia. Are they receiving the same treatment as their compatriots in Bucha?
We do have horrific accounts of massacres by Russian forces in occupied villages and towns in eastern Ukraine. One of these is the hometown of my daughter-in-law, Ryta. She spends much of her day in contact with friends and relatives back home as they struggle to survive. She offers a grim litany of accounts from friends and neighbors that confirm that “Bucha” is the rule rather than the exception. Atrocities against women, children, and the elderly are a Russian core strategy, not merely the result of untrained recruits running amok. These atrocities are carefully planned and executed by hardened combat soldiers, whose task is to annihilate the adult male population of Ukraine.
Accordingly, I asked Ryta to describe the Russian takeover of her home village in her own words as she recounts the horrific accounts told by survivors.
She writes the following:
In my imagination, I can picture my village of Mykhailivka (some 45 kilometers from Donetsk City and 20 km from Pokrovsk). I can see in my mind’s eye our home, much of it built by hand by my father, a coal miner, near blind from mining accidents incurred during the Soviet era. I can still picture the lush vegetable garden tended by my mother and father. I can hear the bubbling stream from which my father brought home a bounty of fresh fish. In my dreams, I picture our village school and conjure up the images of my “same-year classmates” (odnoklasnyky) with whom I spent ten years of my life.
Such memories must remain just memories. My Mykhailivka is no more. It has been wiped from the map, reduced to a pile of rubble and makeshift graves.
Here is what people from my village tell me: As the order to evacuate Mykhailivka came down from the Ukrainian military command, villagers fled either in their own cars, a communal van, or on foot to nearby Selydove or Pokrovsk, from where they could be sent to the relative safety of western Ukraine by train—or nowhere, because they lost everything. Many escaped thanks to a Dunkirk-like operation in which brave volunteers shuttled villagers out of Mykhailivka, all the while risking encirclement by advancing Russian troops. They had to cease rescue operations before the evacuation was complete, leaving behind stragglers to fend for themselves.
What the evacuees left behind was mainly rubble from protracted shelling of the past weeks. It took only one bomb to wipe out the main street, which was parallel to my parents’ street. The day before, the house of the person who worked in the administration department of my village had been incinerated with her entire family inside by a smart bomb (she had helped Ukrainian soldiers a lot). I guess the Russians knew whom to kill first. Located a little outside of town, our home was also reduced to nothing more than a pile of rubble. Goodbye, childhood memories!
A few of my neighbors decided to stay, thinking that the occupation by Russian troops could not be worse than the nonstop shelling they had sustained. With Russians occupying the village, the bombing should stop, they probably concluded. A group of them hid—men and women—in an abandoned farm repair station left over from Soviet times, hoping volunteers could reach them. They have not been heard from. Most likely they are dead. Mykhailivka descended into an eerie silence as remaining villagers watched for the first detachment of Russian forces. The wait was not long; incoming Russian troops immediately got down to their bloodthirsty business. The Pishuk family owned a grocery store in Mykhailivka. The husband was shot in front of his wife, who pleaded for her husband to receive a proper burial. They rejected her plea, saying, “His body will preserve better in the cellar.” Seeing that, she walked out of the village alone toward Selydove. Along the way, she encountered rubble, human bodies, and animal remains, victims of the sustained bombardment of the region.
Back in Mykhailivka, the Russians shot the men of the Pavlov family, whose son was a lifetime Down’s sufferer cared for by his father. The father was led away, never to be seen again. I guess they thought that the Russians would take pity on a severely handicapped person, who posed no harm to anyone. They even killed their dog and cat.
Rita’s account of the Mykhailivka massacre confirms several bitter points. First, there are no real limits on Russia’s way of war in Ukraine. It is genocide. And the indiscriminate execution of males is a conscious policy to reduce the supply of men fighting to halt the Russian advance. No questions are asked: just shoot, whether they are twenty or eighty. Second, women are not routinely executed unless they occupy some official position, such as mayor, or are just unlucky. Perhaps Russian officers fear that the wholesale shooting of women would not sit well with their troops, some of whom are new to the battlefield. Third, the leveling of all buildings and structures is specifically designed to prevent anyone from inhabiting the area in the near future. Fourth, neighbors from nearby towns exhibited incredible courage, risking their lives to rescue Mykhailivka residents before the Russian troops arrived.
We also recognize Russia’s strategy for the future. As Mykhailivka is gradually rebuilt, Russian families will be moved in. Children will be deported to Russia to receive “patriotic education.” At some point, the residents will be asked to “vote” on whether they want to be a part of Russia. We need not speculate on their forced answer.
With mounting civilian and military casualties, there is scarcely a Ukrainian family that has not lost sons, daughters, fathers, and mothers in a war initiated by Russia for the political benefit of its ruling class. Throughout Ukraine, the hatred of Russia and Russians is palpable. This hatred will not dissipate through any conceivable plan for “peace.” Any peace considered unjust by the Ukrainian people (and Putin will demand such a peace) will lead to violent reactions, perhaps resulting in a partisan war aimed at Russia and Russian interests. If Putin thinks that he will achieve victory by way of a “peace” engineered by the Kremlin without the United States or Europe as guarantors, he is in for a surprise.
Here is Ryta’s plea:
It is time for the world to open its eyes, to throw away false optimism, and to provide real help to Ukrainians to stop this genocide. The atrocities we witness in Mykhailivka and beyond should not be forgotten or ignored. The international community must unite to condemn these acts and support Ukraine in its struggle for survival and justice. The world cannot turn a blind eye to the ongoing violence and suffering; it must act decisively to help those in need, ensuring that the voices of the victims are heard and that their stories lead to accountability and change.
