‘We need real peace’: Easter truce fails to lift grim mood in war-torn Ukraine

We need real peace’: Easter truce fails to lift grim mood in war-torn Ukraine

The Orthodox Easter ceasefire between Russia and Ukraine began on Saturday, yet within 38 minutes, air raid alarms blared across the Kharkiv region. Despite the pause in hostilities, frontline forces reported several breaches of the agreement, though no long-range missiles or drones were launched. This truce, lasting 32 hours until Easter Monday, aims to grant a brief respite to those enduring four years of relentless conflict.

Hope and confidence remain tenuous in this war-torn region. As the 16:00 (14:00 BST) truce time approached, families gathered at St John the Theologian Church to receive blessings for their Easter celebrations. Baskets filled with iced cakes, painted eggs, and sausage were brought in, while parishioners lined up for holy water. The service, typically held just before midnight, was shifted to mid-afternoon due to ongoing curfews. Fr Viktor, the priest, questioned the sincerity of the ceasefire when asked about its meaning.

“Do you believe them?” Fr Viktor wanted to know, as I inquired about the significance of the Russian pause in fighting.

St John’s church, itself damaged early in the war, still bears boarded-up windows from the initial assault. Parishioner Larisa, a local attendee, expressed skepticism about the truce’s effectiveness. “Maybe there will be a pause,” she mused, “but then Russia will only launch even more intense attacks. We’ve seen that before.”

Meanwhile, a military unit stationed near the Russian border tested new equipment at a training ground. Members of the Yasni Ochi strike UAV unit, part of the Khartia corps, practiced deploying kamikaze drones. Their commander, Heorhiy, instructed his troops to remain alert unless under direct attack. “Russia says one thing, then does the other,” he noted. “So you have to be ready.”

Despite the ceasefire, some soldiers found ways to send Easter gifts to comrades at the front. Drones carried cakes and alcohol-free wine to the frontline, a gesture of solidarity amid the chaos. The training village, once occupied by Russian forces in 2022, now lies in ruins. Discussions about reclaiming territory like the Donbas region have faded, but Heorhiy insists Ukraine cannot halt its efforts without better support from allies.

The commander highlighted Ukraine’s growing influence, citing the Middle East war as a testament to the country’s drone technology and expertise. However, the peace process, spearheaded by the US, has stalled. President Donald Trump’s envoys have been redirected to negotiations with Iran. Ukraine continues to demand strong security assurances, particularly from the US, regarding potential future invasions.

Heorhiy, reflecting on the war’s toll, recalled that several of his unit were DJs before the conflict, part of an underground music scene in Dnipro. “It’s not our choice,” he said. “I don’t like war, my guys don’t like it. We used to have a good civilian life.”

Heading back into Kharkiv, the city’s ring road is now draped in netting to ensnare Russian drones. Yet, this measure offers little protection against missiles striking residential areas. In one suburb, entire five-storey blocks of flats have been reduced to rubble. Others are boarded up and uninhabitable. Last month, a missile attack killed 11 people, destroying an entire section of a building in the early hours.

Among the wreckage, a red rug still hangs on a living-room wall, and photographs of two victims lie nearby. Olha, a neighbor, shared her account of the night the missile hit. She and her elderly mother had taken shelter in a corridor, watching as flames consumed the building across the street. “This truce is only 1.5 days,” she said, “but at least we can rest a bit. Here, you expect to die every second.”