‘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

As the Orthodox Easter ceasefire between Russia and Ukraine began on Saturday afternoon, the skies over Kharkiv region in northeastern Ukraine quickly turned tense. Just 38 minutes after the agreement took effect, air raid alarms pierced the silence, signaling renewed hostilities. Despite the temporary pause in hostilities, military officials and frontline units reported multiple breaches of the truce, though no major long-range attacks were launched. The respite, intended to last until Easter Monday, offers a brief reprieve for a nation enduring its fourth year of full-scale war.

At St John the Theologian Church, families gathered shortly before the truce’s start time to honor the holiday. They carried baskets of iced cakes, painted eggs, and sausages, seeking blessings from the priest. The traditional midnight service, which often includes a procession around the church, was moved to mid-afternoon due to curfew restrictions. Fr Viktor, reflecting on the event, questioned whether the ceasefire would truly hold. “Do you believe them?” he asked, highlighting the skepticism among locals.

Just 12 miles from the Russian border, members of the Yasni Ochi strike UAV unit trained at a military base. They tested new equipment, including kamikaze drones, as they prepared for potential attacks. Their commander, Heorhiy, instructed his troops to remain alert unless under direct assault. “Russia says one thing, then does the other. So you have to be ready,” he said. Despite the truce, the unit used drones to deliver Easter treats and supplies to comrades at the front, a gesture of solidarity amid the conflict.

Kharkiv’s streets now bear the scars of war. A ring road, draped in netting to hinder Russian drones, serves as a makeshift shield. Yet, missiles still strike homes with deadly precision, leaving little time for defenses to react. In one suburb, entire five-storey apartment blocks lay in ruins, while others were boarded up and abandoned. Last month, a missile attack killed 11 people in the early hours, reducing a section of a building to rubble. Among the debris, a red rug remains pinned to a wall, and photographs of the victims linger nearby.

Olha, a resident of the area, recounted how she and her elderly mother took shelter in a corridor during the attack. She showed me a video of the flames consuming the neighboring building, describing the chaos with raw emotion. “This truce is only 1.5 days. But at least we can rest a bit, because here, you expect to die every second,” she said. Her plea for calm underscores the hopelessness felt by many, even as Ukraine pushes for security guarantees from allies.

“Easter should be a time of safety, a time of peace,” Ukraine’s President Volodymyr Zelensky wrote on X, vowing that his forces would retaliate “strictly in kind” against any Russian aggression. The truce, he implied, is a test of resolve rather than a promise of peace.

Heorhiy, reflecting on the war’s impact, noted that several of his unit were once DJs in Dnipro’s underground music scene. “It’s not our choice. I don’t like war, my guys don’t like it. We used to have good civilian life,” he said. For now, Ukraine continues its fight, relying on international support for drones and expertise, even as peace talks stall. The US’s envoy to the Middle East, diverted to mediate Iran’s conflict, has left the Ukrainian cause in limbo, with the nation still seeking stronger assurances against future invasions.