They stand in a small crowd outside the large metal gate, nervously waiting in the darkness. Both the stress and the stuffed plastic bags make most people overwhelmed.
“Where is my father? Where is my father?” the boy in a camouflage coat asks, leaning against the grey gate. When his mother tells him to be patient, the two women comfort each other nearby.
Svitlana Vakar floats behind the group, crying and sniffing, holding the hollow hand of her two-year-old grandson, Maksym. Wipe her eyes, she adjusts Maxim's red “Por Patrol” pufferfish jacket to protect him from the cold of winter and plant a long kiss on her head.
Maksym's father was greeted that morning by recruiting executives on his way to work. He was able to send a message to his mother. He was taken to this military assembly point on the edge of Kiev. Bringed for processing, they are held overnight and shipped in the morning for basic military training as recruits.
“Why take him like a dog? I won't allow him to say goodbye to his family and children,” Vakar began sob.
At the start of a full-scale invasion of Russia's Ukraine in 2022, men flocked to recruitment centres. However, after three years of crushing war, the volunteer wells are dry. Now, the man is waiting for the draft paper to arrive before appearing at the recruitment center. Or, make sure you don't find it.
The Ukrainian army has been helping to replenish the ranks by chasing the Dodgers' draft, facing a severe military shortage and serious injury. In some cases, it will take men away from the streets and buses and adopt the points of clothing such as jeans, suits, gym shorts and more. It happens so quickly that men can't always call immediately to let their loved one know what happened or where they were taken, the family says.
Some will be brought into this isolated facility. The facility will have friends and family treks saying goodbye hours before dawn and at dusk, providing essentials on the road ahead.
The losses are all around Ukraine, where fallen cover signs and monumental faces stretch out into the city streets. Of all the sacrifices, sympathy for those who avoid serving may be lacking. Nearly one million people are fighting in the Ukrainian army. They also have children and families.
The unpleasant and preemptive sadness on display at the gate is another aspect of the widespread insecurity that Ukrainians live in. It was unclear how many men inside ignored draft notices. Some relatives mentioned paperwork issues regarding exemptions or cited bureaucratic errors.
Vakar said when her son, Artem, 32, had been sent a message that morning in January and was taken to the recruitment centre, she said she “drove everything.”
“How can my mother react?” she said. She threw his West Blue cigarettes and some potatoes and eggs into a white plastic bag, then rushed to the point where Maxim had gathered.
Every few minutes the door inside the gate opens. The soldiers stick their heads out, calling their names “Roman” and “Oleg,” and those in the crowd will come forward.
As the clock moved to 6:45pm, there was a 15-20 wait, so more people continued to arrive.
The contents of the bag they carried spoke about how the man was suddenly taken away. Phone charger. socks. underwear. toothbrush. Warm coat. Many of the gates also had plastic containers with boluscht, macaroni food to facilitate the sudden transition to military life.
Vakar gave Maxim a snack at 6:50. Soon after that, “Vakar” was called. They were led through the gate, past the soldiers, with a list of names, another person with an assault rifle and led to a small strip of asphalt with a bench. There, she was able to see her son for about 20 minutes.
The gate continued cranking and returned to the visitors. Their bags are now empty, with many still tears flowing down their faces.
The centre is at the end of a winding road far from public transport. Some people piloted the pace while waiting for the taxi. Others called to report their husband and boyfriend missing.
Anya, 38, who was coming to search for her husband, said it took an hour to get to the nearest bus stop. She asked that only her name be used out of fear of retaliation. When she arrived, breathlessly she rushed to the gate, but was told to wait.
Others were still arriving, some carrying duffels. When I asked, “Where are you going?”, several people seemed confused. Or “How does the line work?”
I was running out of time, which could have been my last chance to say goodbye. In the morning, a large yellow bus rolls through the gate with a sign that says “Ukrainian Army!” “Visitors can come from 6:30am to 8am. The bass then undergoes basic training for 45 days, followed by assignment to the unit.
More men are brought into the van and exchanged them all day long. So the evening visit windows from 4pm to 8pm are full of relatives of people picked up a few hours ago.
Not all visitors make it in time – the man and woman who arrived at 8:14pm left.
However, Anya overcomes it to see her husband working at McDonald's. When she appeared 15 minutes later she was a wreck.
“He's not a soldier,” she said. “I don't know how he will serve.”
Anya says that when her husband called her after she dropped her 7-year-old daughter at school, she had bad feelings. It was a call she had been terrified for months, but was also less devastating when it came.
“I'm in shock,” she said. She said she would promote the exemption, find medical documents and do anything to release him. It was for tomorrow, she said. Now she had to go to her daughter. The girl didn't know that her father had been drafted.
“I don't know when I should tell her,” Anya suffocated her words in tears. She could no longer speak, and she went down a dark road. After a while, the gate opened and revealed that he was wearing civilian clothing being led over a flag that read, “It is the duty of Ukrainian citizens to protect their homeland.”
A white van was driven, but the crowd in front of the gate was clean. Before the sun rose, more people formed the lines again, packing plastic bags in their hands.
Oksana Parafeniuk Reports of contributions.
