Buses stop running. Villages fall silent. As Russia inches closer, families in southeast Ukraine are leaving everything behind to survive.
TAVRIÍSKE, Ukraine — In recent weeks, buses have stopped running from the village of Tavriiske to the regional hub of Zaporizhzhia, about 50 kilometers away. As fighting creeps closer, the village is steadily emptying, its remaining residents forced to confront a stark choice: stay and risk death, or flee with little more than what they can carry.
Maryna Vyshnevska, 35, gathered her five children and a handful of belongings before boarding a police evacuation bus — one of the last lifelines out. “We thought they would be driven back and all this would stop,” she said, referring to Russian forces. “But when we realised it would only get worse and worse, it was better to leave.”
Her departure comes as Russia and Ukraine begin a new round of U.S.-brokered peace talks in Abu Dhabi. On the ground, however, Russia’s military momentum continues. Over recent months, Russian troops have ground forward along multiple sections of the 1,200-kilometer front line, tightening pressure on Ukraine’s southeastern regions.
While Moscow’s forces push toward the heavily fortified cities of the eastern Donetsk region, they are also advancing toward Zaporizhzhia — the capital of one of four Ukrainian regions Russia has unilaterally claimed, despite only partially occupying the territory.
Ukrainian military officials say fighting has intensified in recent weeks, particularly around the town of Huliaipole, roughly 40 kilometers east of Tavriiske. The villages in this area sit in a dangerous frontline bulge, with Russian forces positioned on three sides.
Residents who spoke to Reuters during a recent visit described living under constant threat from drones, artillery and air-dropped bombs. Anti-drone netting now shrouds the main regional road as police teams and volunteers patrol the area, evacuating civilians under fire. Local authorities say almost no families remain in the villages surrounding Tavriiske.
“Every day, every week, we see more destruction and a greater risk of entering towns like these,” said Vlad Makhovskyi, 51, a volunteer wearing tactical gear as he helped evacuate residents. At one stop, two men carried an elderly woman from her damaged home using a bright pink bedsheet as an improvised stretcher.
For those leaving, the emotional toll is heavy. Nataliia Fedorenko, 66, broke down in tears as she described the fear of remaining behind as fighting worsened. “It’s scary. Nobody wants to die,” she said quietly before evacuating. “I know I don’t have much time left, but this kind of death…?”
As Russia presses forward and diplomacy struggles to keep pace with events on the battlefield, villages like Tavriiske are becoming ghost towns — stark symbols of a war that continues to consume civilian life in its path.
