Ukraine Divided | Tim Judah
As we got closer to the front everyone in the car went quiet. Sheriff—the unit commander’s call sign, because he was a police chief before the war—took out a gadget the size of a cigarette packet and stared at its tiny screen. If it flashed a 1, that meant there was a Russian drone a mile and a half away. If it flashed a 2, a drone was half a mile away, and 3 meant you had five seconds, Sheriff explained, “to get out of the car or you are dead.” A few minutes later we were in a forest, close to where Russian troops had seized a small patch of land near Ukraine’s northern border, including half of the destroyed town of Vovchansk. I had just come from Kyiv. In my hotel I had had a corner room slightly above street level. Every day girls in their twenties came with friends and stood in front of my window and took photos of themselves. Sometimes there were three groups of girls at the same time. …