Tales of Resilience from Inside Ukraine: ‘We Had 36 People Sleeping in My Parents’ House’

On the menu today: If we’re supposed to beware the Ides of March, I guess it’s not a great day to be in, you know, Ukraine. I’ve arrived in Lviv for my second trip to this war-torn country, and my interviews reveal that the war can disrupt life in the most unexpected times and places — like when you’re already nervous about passing your driver’s test, and you spot an approaching Russian drone overhead. Elsewhere in Lviv, a former U.S. ambassador to Ukraine weighs in on the grim assessment of the state of the war made in this newsletter earlier this week, and makes the case for a more optimistic outlook.

And have you ever wondered what it’s like to run a restaurant while bombs are intermittently falling, the power’s out because of Russian attacks against the country’s energy infrastructure, and the staffers are getting drafted? And yet, each day, the small business owners of Ukraine find a way. If you can run a business while your country is under attack, you probably have what it takes to thrive in any environment.

At Least You’ve Never Feared a Russian Drone Attack during Your Driver’s Test

Lviv, Ukraine — Lviv may well be the safest big city in Ukraine. The city still gets hit by Russian bombings intermittently, but the city’s location, just 43 miles from the Polish border, means that it’s about as far from Russia and as close to NATO as a big city gets in this country.

But relative normalcy is still relative, and every Ukrainian you meet has some story to tell. The story I heard from Halyna Melnyk, an information-technology professional who lives here in Lviv, may be my favorite so far, as Melnyk had a Russian drone fly over . . . during her driving test.

The test was canceled; thankfully, she was not marked down for failing to use a turn signal to let the overhead Russian drone know she was making a left.

Another time, Melnyk was racing to a bomb shelter in another building when she spotted a Russian drone approaching her location. But as she opened the door of the building with the bomb shelter, she realized that if the drone struck the building she was entering, she would be crushed under collapsing floors before she could reach the basement. But if she stayed outside, she would likely be killed by the explosion, falling debris, and flying shrapnel. She described being frozen in indecision, trying to decide whether she was safer inside the building or outside, and which way of dying would be worse. Thankfully, the drone flew elsewhere.

Melnyk told me her parents live very close to the Ukrainian border with Poland. When the war began, there were long lines of civilians attempting to get out of the country, and her parents’ home became an impromptu waiting station for the waves of women and children attempting to escape.

“At one point, we had 36 people sleeping in my parents’ house,” Melnyk said. “People were sleeping on the floor everywhere, just coming, sometimes staying for a few hours, then moving on [toward the border]. . . . To be frank, that was something that helped us survive. We were all shocked. No one knew what to do. My parents had just had a very bad Covid [infection], so they were sick as dogs. But they felt obliged, that they had to cook food, and run around to help all of these people.”

I asked Melnyk and her friends, Marta Plechii and Yulia Prus, whether those who lived here, in the westernmost portions of the country, felt differently about the war than those elsewhere.

“It’s not only about distance, it’s about culture,” Melnyk told me. The three young women pointed out that they grew up watching Polish movies, and central Europe’s democracies, freedom of expression, and rule of law were metaphorically right next door. That shaped their worldview and sense of identity much more than the relatively far-away Russia. Vladimir Putin’s claim that the Russians and Ukrainians are one people was always wrong, but feels particularly absurd here, in the regions of Ukraine closest to the West.

“It’s about the mentality of the people,” Melnyk continued. “Here in the Western part, we were always pro-Ukrainian; we never spoke Russian. We had a totally different kind of culture and historical events that we lived through. We were closer to Poland, closer to the Austrian empire, to the Lithuanians, and so on. I feel lucky to be born here, because I like my culture, and I like the attitude that we have. Many of the people who are fighting there [at the front] are from here in the West, because they have this kind of mindset. A lot of my friends are over there fighting . . . or they are no longer alive.”

Melnyk’s comments about Western Ukrainians reminded me of the comments of “Wolf,” a commander in one of Ukraine’s civilian-defense units whom I spoke to last summer, who articulated a fierce sense of independence from foreign powers and solidarity with his regional brethren:

Ukrainians have never relied on their government — whether it’s [President Volodymyr] Zelensky, or [former president Petro] Poroshenko. We rely on ourselves. We won’t wait for orders to do something. Offense, defense, assault, ambush — just do it. This is our land.

The Best-Case and Worst-Case Scenarios for Ukraine in 2024

I reached out to former U.S. ambassador to Ukraine John Herbst, and he argued that the assessment of the state of the war in Wednesday’s edition of this newsletter, offered by David Knowles of the Daily Telegraph’s Ukraine: The Latest podcast and national-security researcher and analyst Kyle Orton, was too gloomy.

“Yes, nearly every problem mentioned — the Russian advantage in manpower and equipment, the vagary of aid, the matter of conscription — is real, but not as bad as generally described,” Herbst told me. “For instance, the Russian equipment advantage was not sufficient to conduct as intensive and effective an infrastructure-bombing campaign this winter as the first one, which ran from October 2022 to March 2023. Putin remains unwilling to do another mobilization — though some say he will after the election, [that’s] possible, but unlikely — and to pull soldiers from Russia’s big cities. Instead, they are looking globally for volunteers. Also, while this is principally a land war, Kyiv’s victory at sea more than offsets the pullback at Avdiivka.”

Herbst offered a tough assessment of how the Biden administration, and certain NATO allies, have managed their assistance to Ukraine.

“Finally, the real authors of the less-than-stellar showing of the counteroffensive sit in Washington and to a lesser extent Berlin,” Herbst said. “I warned a year ago that if we continued to dribble weapons into Ukraine, we could only expect the counteroffensive to achieve modest success, defined as liberating a few hundred square kilometers. Washington did not want to send the necessary Abrams [tanks], F-16s, and especially long-range ATACMs in quantity — for fear of Kremlin escalation. I work with lots of three- and four-star generals — Breedlove, Clark, Hodges, Lute — who have repeatedly said that we would never launch our troops against fortified lines without the stuff we declined to send Ukraine.”

I asked Herbst for his best-case and worst-case scenarios for the Ukrainians for the rest of the year.

“My sense, based, among other things, on talking with senior Ukrainian military [members], is that if there is no U.S. aid for another four to six months, Kyiv may make minor line adjustments and not more,” he said. “The worst-case possible scenario for one year out: The U.S. does not send aid or additional weapons. Europe steps up partly, which we are seeing now. Possibly, Ukraine can hold on to Kharkiv and other significant parts of the east bank. The key question will be what weapons Europe can provide. But for sure Ukraine can retreat to the Dnieper and hold the line there. If there is no U.S. aid but Europe can buy U.S. weapons for Ukraine, Russian gains even one year out are not likely to include the whole east bank. And [the chances are] better than 50 percent that Kyiv still holds Kharkiv.”

Herbst’s sense of the best possible scenario is: “Congress passes the aid package by late May; our presidential election means no decrease in aid to Ukraine; and the administration, Democrat or Republican, overcomes the current squeamishness and arms Ukraine for victory. In that case, Ukraine receives lots of fighters, tanks, demining equipment, electronic-warfare equipment, and long-range missiles; makes at least some gains to the east and south; and has taken out the Kerch bridge and is making it hard for Russia to rely on the land bridge to supply its troops in south mainland Ukraine and Crimea.”

Keeping the Food Cooking When the Lights Go Out

Every business in Lviv — down to the smallest Italian restaurant — must make ends meet, maintain their supply chain, and serve customers while simultaneously dealing with the unpredictable challenges of war.

Porco Marco on Virmenska Street in Lviv is a tiny restaurant — five stools and a counter and a display case, with all the action in the kitchen on display in front of you, just a few feet away.

Proprietor Anastasiya Gren is quick to insist that in a country at war, there’s nothing heroic about just keeping a restaurant running. But people still need to be fed, and life must go on in the ways that it can in wartime. When the war broke out, Porco Marco put itself to work baking bread for volunteers and refugees.

Porco Marco is a two-person operation, and the chef needs a background in baking — “It’s not simple. When you eat, then you’ll understand,” Gren boasted before our meal. Since its opening in 2019, Porco Marco has had to shut its doors three times — first when the war began, and most recently when Dmytro, the chef, was summoned into military service.

“It was a surprise,” Gren said. There’s a short video on Instagram about Dmytro, declaring, “Without complaining, he trained as a sniper, and after hopping behind the counter one more time, went to the front lines.”

The current chef, Kirill Petrushynskyi, has been making the restaurant’s pizzas, pastas, sandwiches, and baked lemons for three months. Petrushynskyi and his family are from Kharkiv, a city in northeastern Ukraine much closer to the Russian border; more than 20,000 buildings in Kharkiv have been damaged since the beginning of the war.

Petrushynskyi said that the Lviv restaurant scene has hobbled along for much of the war, but the past few months have seen a turn for the worse.

“It wouldn’t be fair to say that everything is generally okay with business,” he said. “In one square kilometer, in the last three or four months, about 20 restaurants have closed.” He notes that like in the U.S., the Ukrainian restaurant industry is always volatile, but more restaurants have closed than opened during this recent stretch. He said some restauranteurs have moved to Kyiv to find new work or opportunities. It’s easy to forget that before the war, Ukraine was a major tourist destination, and UNESCO has estimated that since February 2022, the Ukrainian culture and tourism sectors have accumulated lost revenues of $19.6 billion.

“People who come here, they make this atmosphere,” Kirill told me.

“It’s always interesting guests,” Gren said. “I don’t know why, but maybe the atmosphere — many people make new friends here. These two meters” — she gestures to the narrow space — “a lot of interesting things happen in here.”

As of this writing, as the sun rises, it’s all quiet in Lviv this morning. Let’s hope it stays that way for a long time.

ADDENDA: My last entrance into Ukraine had more than its fair share of complications. Yesterday, I moved through the Krakovets border crossing with just about the shortest waits possible, and almost no traffic. Make of that what you will — different time of year, different day of the week, different time of day. Maybe it’s nothing, or maybe it’s an indication that all kinds of shipments and traffic into Ukraine have slowed down.

I can’t help but get the sense that the “PROUD of Poland’s Independence” on the side of the Polish Airlines jetliner at Warsaw International is a not-so-subtle signal to anyone who might be thinking that the country’s independence could be easily altered.