DAY 2: Today, our plan takes us to Seversk, a small town on the front line in the Bahmut district. We go here together with Sergey Severin, my travel partner, on war trips for nearly a year. He is a devoted, compassionate brother who sacrifices himself for the sake of others. Our car is loaded with water, bread, batteries, gasoline, hygiene products, clothing, and pillows for the field military hospital. We have also brought First Aid medical kits for the soldiers.

We drive through untouched forests, which are now filled with blackened, charred trees and remnants of burned military equipment. Venturing into the forest is dangerous due to land mines. It is said that Ukraine currently has the highest concentration of mines in the world. Complete de-mining, according to some estimates, will take at least 10 years. Thanks to the "liberators"...

On the way, we stop at a 'stabilization' point. It is a field hospital where wounded soldiers from the front line are brought for emergency medical care. They are later transferred to hospitals on the "mainland." Last time, they asked us to bring pillows. These pillows are needed for transporting the wounded on stretchers. I posted a request for pillows on Facebook, and within a couple of days, the need was fulfilled. We hand over the pillows, clothing for the injured, milk, and sweets to the medical staff. They don't have much time for us here; the hospital is not a place for idle conversation as they are working tirelessly to save the lives of wounded soldiers day and night. We bid our goodbyes and continue on our way.

In Seversk, we explore new areas that we haven't been to before. Very few volunteers come here. We met Tatiana during our last visit. She is an open and friendly woman. She asks us to take her photo and send it to her son via messenger. She can't do it herself because there is no connection in the city. Her son lives abroad and wants her to join him. However, she strongly refuses. She has a 30-acre garden here and wonders who would take care of it if she leaves. I sent the photo as requested. We take such requests seriously and understand how important it is for people.

Misha, a man in his forties, sent his family to relatives in central Ukraine at the beginning of the war. We respect him for this decision, as not everyone acts so wisely and often puts their women and children in danger. He stayed behind to take care of the household. In early May, a shell hit his house. It's unlikely that it can be restored. But Misha is trying to do something about it - he covered the roof with plastic and is clearing away the debris.

It seems like he can't fully accept the reality that he and his family have lost their home. We can't offer much assistance in this situation. We advise Misha not to cling to the ruins and to go be with his family. We offer help with evacuation, but he refuses. We give him bread, water, and gasoline. We share the same supplies with Misha's neighbors as well.

We have dozens of similar encounters today. Sometimes we have to take cover as the shelling is very close.

As we approach some of our military troops, we ask them, "Guys, do you need first aid kits?" Big smiles. They are excited. They won't refuse. We quickly distribute the first aid kits, aware that any movement can be detected by drones. We express our wishes that the kits won't be needed by the guys. We hug them and quickly leave. A big thank you from the Ukrainian defenders to our partners from the HART mission who provided these first aid kits!

By evening, we head back to the base. On the way, we learn that Druzhkivka was under shelling. Sergey speeds up - his family is there. It turns out the missile hit a residential five-story building. Many apartments are damaged. Thank God, everyone is alive. Sergey's relatives are also safe. We are heading to the site where the missile hit a residential building. We offer the affected people shelter in our refugee homes, but they refuse. They ask for help in covering their windows with plastic. We assist them with that. It's the last task for today, an unplanned one. Exhausted and already in the dark, we return to the base.