It was a day when you felt it rained mud. A day without light on the sodden soil of Donbas, Eastern Ukraine. In April 2023 I was following medics in Chasiv Yar. They would take care of wounded soldiers evacuated from Bakhmout. All day long, in a small house, we heard explosions. Outgoing, incoming. Submunitions. Grads. Everyone was very calm, courage is contagious. Late in the afternoon, we heard that some seriously injured soldiers were on their way. We went to the meeting point behind some buildings from which you shouldn’t stray: a section of wall at your back is an extra chance of not being hit by shrapnel. The soldiers were very tense. The IFV turned into an ambulance arrived. It maneuvered through a puddle as big as a pond, and a wounded man got out. Then another, badly banged up, with a tourniquet on his left shoulder. One of the medics approached. When she saw his face, she exclaimed « Sasha! » and kissed him gently. She didn’t know that among the soldiers evacuated that day she would find her husband. It was raining mud and there was no light.
