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SLOVIANSK, Ukraine — The belongings of Volodymyr Nikulin, a Ukrainian police officer stationed near the country’s eastern front line, boil down to this:
a car riddled with shrapnel, a small bag full of sweaters and pants and two plastic bags full of basic foods and medicines.
Maintaining simplicity is essential for Nikulin, who has had to abandon three cities to escape the advance of Russian forces in the eastern Donbass region, losing his home each time.
So you have learned to live on little and be ready to pack your bags in no time.
He has barely bothered to settle into a friend’s apartment he currently occupies in Sloviansk, a city 15 miles from the combat zone, leaving the bedroom intact and sleeping instead in a small office.
The distant rumble of Russian bombing periodically echoes through the walls, a reminder that he might soon have to leave it all behind again.
“Who knows where I will be in a few months?”
cop nytVolodymyr Nikulin, a Ukrainian police officer, sits in what he calls his “lucky” but battered car, in Sloviansk, Ukraine, this month Photo Tyler Hicks/The New York Times
Nikulin said on a recent morning last month in Sloviansk, acknowledging that Russian forces in the area were creeping up.
He joked that at least he could count on his broken car, remembering how it had helped him escape several Russian attacks.
“It’s my lucky car,” said Nikulin, a 53-year-old police lieutenant colonel, with a slight smile.
Nikulin’s story of fleeing from city to city under attack — Donetsk in 2014, when Russian-backed separatists took control of the city; and then, after Russia’s full-scale invasion began, Mariupol in 2022 and Myrnohrad this summer — is emblematic of the plight of millions of Ukrainians displaced by the war.
Like many, he has abandoned beloved cities, seen his homes destroyed or occupied, and mourned his neighbors killed in the fighting.
As a police officer evacuating besieged cities, he has also faced tough trials, such as helping journalists escape from Mariupol so they could reveal harrowing footage of the Russian attack there.
Employment
Working for the national police near the front lines means living with constant uncertainty amid near-daily attacks from Russia.
Nikulin often rushes to places hit by missiles to help pull the wounded from the rubble.
A police station where he used to work has been attacked several times, and his colleagues have been killed while guarding stations bombed by Russian forces.
“We are targets for the Russians,” Nikulin said as he drove through Kramatorsk, another frontline city near Sloviansk.
He was wearing a khaki jacket without insignia, to avoid being identified by the disloyal locals that could alert the Russians.
With Russian troops advancing steadily into the Donbas, the cycle of Nikulin evacuations may be far from over.
A sign that says “I love Myrnohrad.” Mr. Nikulin had to flee the city this summer amid Russian advances. Photo Nicole Tung for The New York Times
Still, he believes that one day he will return to his hometown of Donetsk, confident that the Ukrainian army will turn the tide on the battlefield.
Nikulin, a reserved man with piercing blue eyes, grew up in Donetsk in the 1970s and 1980s, when it was part of the Soviet Union.
The son of a miner and a clothing factory worker, he aspired to a military career and studied at the Donetsk Military Academy.
He graduated in 1992, a year after Ukraine became independent from the USSR, and eventually joined the crazy police forcel.
At the time, Donetsk was affected by gang wars fueled by the post-Soviet economic collapse.
“Every day, there were several murders with guns and bombs,” he recalled, as local businessmen, backed by the gangs, fought for control of state assets.
But over time, the city was transformed and pacified.
Nikulin grew fond of its rugged charm, a reborn mining powerhouse with gleaming skyscrapers and artsy cafes.
One of his happiest memories is watching a quarter-final match of the 2012 European Football Championship at the new stadium in Donetsk.
Ukrainians waiting to be evacuated from their homes in September. As a wartime police officer, Mr. Nikulin has helped evacuate multiple cities. Photo Nicole Tung for The New York Times
“The city was changing, developing, becoming more european“, said.
Then in the spring of 2014, pro-Kremlin insurgentsbacked by Russia, organized an armed uprising in Donetsk, demonstrating against Ukraine’s turn towards the West.
As rebels rapidly overran the city, Nikulin said he worked covertly with colleagues to secure control of computer servers containing critical financial and security data.
Exodus
When he was finally forced to leave Donetsk in July, he packed only summer clothes, thinking he would return in a few weeks.
“T-shirts, a cap, shorts, no jacket,” he said.
“No one understood that we would be gone for so long,” he said.
He paused briefly and added:
“I don’t want to say forever.”
Nikulin moved his police department to the southern port city of Mariupol and quickly felt at home again.
A dozen kilometers from Russian-occupied territory to the east, Mariupol became an “island of freedom” for those fleeing Russian occupation, he said.
Its lively markets and sunny walks along the Sea of Azov offered a lovely sense of normality.
Until Russia launched its large scale invasion in February 2022.
Mariupol was a priority objective for Moscow’s forces, who soon surrounded the city.
Inside, Nikulin and his colleagues worked to maintain order, fighting off looters who raided stores as panic gripped the besieged population, and helping residents when Russian bombs fell on their homes.
The documentary “20 days in Mariupol”filmed by journalists from Associated Press which covered Russia’s siege of the city, begins with a tense scene of Nikulin, dressed in a bulletproof vest, inside a hospital as Russian tanks surround him. “The tanks have entered,” he is heard saying over a walkie-talkie, alerting the Ukrainian forces.
Without Nikulin, the documentary, which won an Oscar this year for its harrowing account of the brutal Russian assault, may never have seen the light of day.
In Mariupol, he helped AP journalists find Internet access in the midst of the attacks so that they could transmit their images.
He then smuggled them out of the city, passing through 15 Russian checkpoints in his bomb-damaged car, with plastic covering the broken windows.
They hoped that the Russian soldiers would not search the car and find the journalists’ cameras hidden under the seats, which would mean immediate arrest, or worse.
“It was stressful,” Nikulin said, recalling how he tried to distract soldiers at checkpoints by offering them cigarettes.
Mykhailo Vershynin, who headed the Patrol Police in Mariupol during his defense, said Nikulin “was like a father” to journalists.
“I really wanted the world to know what happened to Mariupol.”
After escaping from Mariupol, Nikulin moved to Myrnohrad, about 80 miles to the north.
From there, he continued to help evacuate eastern frontline towns such as Toretsk, which Russian forces recently entered.
Memories
His phone is full of videos showing brick houses crushed by bombs.
However, convincing residents to leave could be difficult, he said, because some are old and have never lived anywhere else, while others believe they will be better off under Russian rule.
“It’s complicated,” he said with a sigh.
“But we have to get these people out.”
“For him, it’s more than just a service: it’s deeply personal,” said Yevhen Tuzov, a Ukrainian volunteer who has worked with Nikulin on evacuation missions, noting that the police officer couldn’t stand watching Russia tear his region apart. native.
Last summer, Nikulin was wounded in the back by missile shrapnel while rescuing people after a Russian attack in Pokrovsk, near Myrnohrad.
Despite the injury, Nikulin continued to work, occasionally traveling to kyiv, the Ukrainian capital, to undergo surgery. three surgeries who removed the shrapnel.
Despite witnessing so many cities and towns fall to Russia, Nikulin has maintained his optimism.
It says that while the first phase of the war, from 2014 to 2022, became a frozen conflict, complicating Ukraine’s efforts to regain lost territory, the large-scale war that began almost three years ago presents a opportunity for Ukraine to recover its territory.
“I know, it sounds very strange,” he said of his optimism. But he remembered how that same optimistic belief had driven him during the seemingly doomed escape from Mariupol in 2022.
“Hope was our power.”
For now, however, Nikulin continues to retreat.
When Moscow forces launched a new offensive toward Myrnohrad this summer, he was forced to move again, this time leaving an apartment that belonged to his wife’s family.
He recorded a video of his departure in mid-August.
“Home sweet home,” she says in English in the video, before walking through hallways adorned with floral wallpaper and passing a kitchen table filled with apples, a teapot and salad bowls.
His heavy breathing is audible, betraying his deep emotion.
And he concludes: “I don’t want to say goodbye.”
c.2024 The New York Times Company
## Open-Ended Questions about Nikulin’s Story
This article tells the powerful story of a Ukrainian police officer navigating the devastating reality of war. Let’s break down his experience into thematic sections with open-ended questions to encourage discussion and diverse perspectives:
**I. The Personal Cost of War:**
* How does Nikulin’s personal history with Donetsk shape his understanding of the current conflict?
* What are some of the emotional and psychological tolls of witnessing constant destruction and loss?
* Why do you think Nikulin feels compelled to help others evacuate, even though it puts him at great personal risk?
* Nikulin mentions the difficulty of convincing some residents to leave. What factors might influence their decision to stay, even in the face of danger?
* How does the article portray the complex relationship between hope and despair in a warzone?
**II. Navigating a Divided Reality:**
* Nikulin describes “disloyal locals” and mentions residents who believe they’ll be better off under Russian rule. What might be some of the reasons behind these varying perspectives within Ukraine?
* How does the presence of “disloyal locals” complicate Nikulin’s work as a police officer?
* What are the ethical dilemmas faced by individuals caught between conflicting loyalties during wartime?
**III. Journalism and Resistance:**
* What role do you think journalists like those from the Associated Press play in exposing the realities of war?
* How does Nikulin’s bravery in assisting the journalists contribute to the wider war narrative?
* Why do you think it was important for Nikulin to ensure the journalists’ footage was seen by the world?
* How can media coverage influence public opinion and international response to a conflict?
**IV. Resilience and the Future:**
* Despite experiencing loss and setbacks, Nikulin remains optimistic about Ukraine’s future. What factors contribute to his resilient outlook?
* What are some of the potential challenges facing Ukraine in rebuilding after the war?
* How do you think Nikulin’s experiences will shape him in the long term?
* How does this story inspire you to think about the human cost of war and the importance of peace?
These open-ended questions are designed to spark deeper thinking and discussion about the complexities of war, resilience, and the human spirit. They encourage the exploration of multiple perspectives and encourage empathy for those directly affected by conflict.
