Aid worker recounts terrifying escape near Kharkiv frontline
A short trip turned into a frightening escape from a Russian drone as Anastasiia Bilchenko joined other aid workers to deliver aid to a small town in eastern Ukraine.
As Bilchenko made his second visit to Zolochiv, about 20 kilometers away from Russian forces, he thought it might be the last.
But as he tells the story of this encounter, he introduces it almost casually as a feature of his work in Kharkiv, one of the most bombed cities of the war.
That’s because drones have become such a part of ordinary life in his hometown that there seems nothing remarkable about having to dodge roadkill on the way to a nearby town.
“It was a dangerous situation,” he says in an interview a few days after the events.
“An FPV drone was flying right behind our vehicle and I was very scared. We could see through our drone detector that the drone’s eyes were following us.”
Because the danger came from a “first-person view” drone, or FPV, aid workers knew there was a Russian operator in a remote location, watching them with a camera on the front of the device.
The operator can destroy them and their vehicles if they wish. It all depended on the distance between the drone and the car. Their first move was to accelerate, leaving the drone behind. Their next decision was to hide.
“We stopped near some trees and buildings and quickly got out of the car,” he says.
Bilchenko doesn’t talk much about what happened next because it seems unimportant. The group emerged safely. Disappearing behind them, the drone looked for other targets. He tells this story casually from the safety of Gdansk, Poland, where he is meeting donors at the Ukraine Rescue Conference.
His escape with his colleagues is a reminder that the front line in war is not actually a line, but a sprawling killing zone whose size is determined by how far Russian and Ukrainian drones can reach. Anything under drones can be a target.
Robert “Magyar” Brovdi, commander of Ukraine’s unmanned system forces, estimated in May, based on the regularity of drone strikes, that the kill zone reached a depth of 25 kilometers on either side of the front line. He also said Ukrainian Pravdaa media organization, the threat will evolve together The rise of autonomous systemsFPV drone teams, bombers and electronic warfare.
“I would not advise anyone to approach the gray front line zone, 25 kilometers on either side, without proper preparation, requirements, protective equipment and everything else,” he said.
But this is where aid workers may need to travel, and where Ukrainian civilians still need assistance.
Bilchenko chooses to work in these conditions because he was born and raised near Kharkiv. He is the partnership officer of Peaceful Heaven of Kharkiv, a nonprofit group that started during Russia’s full-scale invasion in February 2022 and now operates nationwide with approximately 440 employees.
The organization started by providing hot meals on the front lines, then expanded to care for women and children, and now includes teams clearing landmines. One of its financial backers is the Australian donor Minderoo Foundation, founded by Andrew and Nicola Forrest.
Bilchenko’s reason for going to Zolochiv was to support a shelter for children run with the help of UNICEF, the United Nations Children’s Fund. Some of these areas are underground shelters.
“It’s a space where children can relax, socialise, chat with their peers and be with their parents,” he says.
When air raid alerts go off, Ukrainians have little time to prepare for air strikes, but in Kharkiv the time between alert and attack is even shorter, given that it is so close to the Russian border. People in the capital can receive a 10-minute warning before the strike; In Kharkiv this may only be 40 seconds.
“Maybe a week ago I woke up at night, but it wasn’t because of an alarm,” Bilchenko says. “It was an attack and there were maybe four or five explosions.
“Kharkiv is really in danger. But we still understand that people on the front lines really need help.”
While the city had a population of approximately 1.4 million before 2022, there is no reliable public guide to its population today. Moving west can be expensive because housing costs have increased in safer areas; Many people want to stay at home.
Bilchenko graduated with a law degree in Kharkiv – before the war it was a great student city – but left in 2022 to start a master’s degree in international relations in Estonia. He returned in September 2024.
“I realized that I really needed to help Ukrainians in Ukraine,” he says. “And Kharkiv, this is my love. It really is the best city.”
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David Crowe is the European correspondent for The Sydney Morning Herald and The Age.Connect with: X or email.
