Donbas evacuees as Russia claims Pokrovsk capture
At the new end of the line on the western side of the Donetsk border, the station feels like a holding point rather than an arrival. BBC reporting from the area describes how trains no longer run into the Donetsk region itself, a visible sign of how the front has shifted.
People wait here for lifts to safer towns. You see soldiers coming off the line and families trying not to look back. For many, this train west is the first pause after months of alarms and disrupted sleep.
Andrii hugs Polina a moment longer, then checks his return time. He is due back at the front and they do not know when they will meet again. When peace talks come up, he gives a weary smile and calls them “just chatter”. He is not expecting a quick end.
On the carriage west, others squeeze in a few of their 20 days’ leave. Most fall asleep as soon as the doors close. Denys, two years into service, says the fatigue is mental as well as physical. Drones, he tells us, pass over the city “like flies”, yet his unit insists it is not giving up.
BBC reporting puts Russian control of the Donbas-Ukraine’s industrial east of Donetsk and Luhansk-at roughly 85%. In recent days, Moscow said it had taken Pokrovsk in Donetsk; Kyiv replied that fighting was still under way inside the city. Two statements, one battlefield still in motion.
Why does Pokrovsk matter if you are trying to make sense of the map? It sits on the route to the so‑called fortress belt of Slovyansk, Kramatorsk and Druzhkivka, where at least a quarter of a million people live. For many Ukrainians interviewed or cited by the BBC, ceding these hubs is a step too far.
Talks led by the United States continue to move forward and back. A leaked set of US ideas was widely read as close to the Kremlin’s demands. President Volodymyr Zelensky has said territory is the hardest question. The BBC also notes envoys linked to Donald Trump met Ukrainian negotiators before travelling to Moscow, adding to the noise.
The civilian story runs on its own timetable. At a reception centre in Lozova, just over the regional border, dozens arrive through the day. Staff told the BBC they register about 200 people daily. Many chose thick fog for their escape, hoping drones would see less from above.
Yevheniy and Maryna reached Lozova with their two children from Kramatorsk. She says there are more drones now and even a walk to the shop feels risky. They plan to move to Kyiv and have little faith in the talks. As Yevheniy puts it, he doubts “that side” will accept Ukraine’s terms.
Others are weighing grim trade‑offs. Oleksandr says staying is no longer an option; his children are already in Germany. He calls Russia’s maximum demands “probably unacceptable”, yet he is willing to consider parts of the leaked plan that would swap control of some areas for peace. That is the kind of kitchen‑table dilemma this war creates.
Inna is travelling with five children, the youngest nine months old. In Kramatorsk she tried to tell them the thunder in the night was fireworks. Now she says a deal is needed and, if it means leaving home for good, she is prepared. For parents, the calculation often narrows to one line: keep the children alive.
The army is under strain too. According to figures cited by the BBC from Ukrainian authorities, there have been nearly 300,000 cases of desertion or absence without official leave since the full‑scale invasion, with numbers rising sharply over the past year. Definitions differ, but the trend signals fatigue alongside continued resolve.
Serhii-not his real name-is one of those hiding from arrest. He volunteered early in the year but says his undermanned unit near Pokrovsk lacked training and leadership. Two friends disappeared from the ranks; in May he left as well. He insists he came to serve and might still return, but only if he trusts the command above him.
Here is what this means when you read headlines about deals and districts. Peace talks can stretch for months while shells keep falling. Soldiers and families weigh pride, law and survival in real time. One fighter compared populations-around 140 million in Russia to roughly 32 million in Ukraine-and asked whether numbers decide outcomes. History says not always, but the strain is real.