Ukraine Crisis In Kupyansk, the ambiguous success of the Ukrainian army: "The Russian soldiers were caught without a fight"
By Florence Aubenas, Kupyansk, Le Monde
Posted today at 2:00 p.m.
The capture by Kiev's troops of this northeastern Ukrainian city, a railway hub, had initially seemed a foregone conclusion. But it remains close to the front line.
It was a small town in the far east of Ukraine, discreet and charming, with two factories, 27,000 inhabitants and a river. In February, the Russian invasion turned Kupiansk into a strategic point, now marked in red on the staff maps. A railway junction on the border of the two countries, the town had become the gateway for the supply of Russian troops to the northern front of the Donbass, the limits of which begin barely 20 kilometers away.
In the autumn rain, the Ukrainian counter-offensive has just planted its flag in the town's main square. "The Kharkiv region is 94% under our control and the reconquered area is almost completely cleared," says a Ukrainian deputy commander of a base near Izium, nicknamed "Diver". That "almost" makes all the difference. Around Kupiansk, Russian soldiers continue to fight bitterly, while they have quickly retreated elsewhere. The official Ukrainian visits that were supposed to celebrate the victory there are postponed from day to day.
Near the town hall, residents remember that the city fell without a shot at the start of the Russian invasion. “This will avoid destruction,” argued the mayor, elected from a pro-Kremlin party, welcoming the occupants with docility. The strategic position of the city quickly erected it into a Russian administrative and military base in the region. All the signs of a planned annexation seemed in place: propaganda posters, open registrations to obtain a Russian passport, distribution of telephone chips or payment of a bonus to pensioners. Only Russian TV channels were allowed.
Dmytro, a mechanic, regularly took one of the two daily shuttles to the nearby Russian Federation. There, finding work seemed easier to him. Today, in Kupyansk, passersby who see him talking to us walk away from him, faces closed, hostile and frightened at the same time.
On a camping table, Galina sells pasta, shampoo, matches. Both rubles and hrynvia (Russian and Ukrainian currencies) are accepted. "It was calm with the Russians," she said. "No one was against it," Dmytro continues, raising his voice over the noise of the fighting in the vicinity.
Viktor Pripouta, a farmer, intervenes: “That is false. And Mikola? Do you remember Mykola?" A pro-Ukrainian veteran from Donbass, Mykola was loaded into an armored vehicle after organizing a demonstration of 150 people against the occupiers. It was the first and last event of its kind. To avoid discussion, Galina turns her head away. Uncertainty can be read in her eyes: are the Russians really defeated for good? Who knows how the situation will turn out?
“On television, I saw…” begins Dmytro. The farmer cuts him off: “To find out what's going on, I look out the window, not the television."
With the counter-offensive, the city is now on the front line. No water, no electricity, no gasoline, shops looted. An old lady has been dead for four days, the smell is unbearable. There are no more ambulances or firefighters to evacuate the body. In the streets, the noise of the fighting draws closer.
A car has just parked, marked "humanitarian aid". From everywhere, people come running with used plastic bags, even the older ones who are hobbling around. But when the distribution begins, a bomb falls with a bang on a nearby block of houses. A second one crashes even closer. Part of the crowd makes a sudden U-turn to take cover, while the other continues to rush towards the distribution. We collide without a word or a shout, terror and misery thrown against each other in a chilling silence.
Today, Kupiansk is all the more strategically important as the Ukrainian counter-offensive advances towards Donbass. Huge military convoys are driving south, some heading towards Donetsk, others towards Luhansk. Each battalion is displaying its war trophies, Russian machines seized during the last fighting and triumphantly stamped with the arms of the victors. But the proximity of the Russian border, 15 kilometers away, obviously complicates the recapture of the city. "Our enemies can continue to mass troops on their side of the border," explains a Ukrainian officer in a base in the region.
He took part in the battle of Balaklyaya, a city twice as big as Kupiansk, 70 kilometers away. However, it fell almost by itself, like most of the liberated territories in the region. "We have noticed that Russian soldiers retreated easily when left without a command," the officer continued. "In Balaklyaya, we began by locating and decapitating the headquarters." According to him, the Russian soldiers were then surrounded in large groups, and then attacked. "They were caught without fighting," he rejoices.
As if to whip up the ardor in Kupiansk, President Zelensky posted a photo of a bombed-out square in the city on September 19 with the caption "Our Kupiansk," calling for the return of "order and civilization."
Among the soldiers, they discuss Vladimir Putin's speech, who has just announced a partial mobilization in Russia. "It can change very quickly with them, but we are ready," says one. All in the glory of the counter-offensive, the troops compare their enthusiasm with the pessimistic signs of the adversaries. Glib, a 23-year-old fighter, says he saw on social networks that young Russians from Belgorod, on the other side of the border, about 50 kilometers away, are trying to flee to avoid being drafted.
After the liberation of the town, massive numbers of requests for leave for September 1 were discovered in the Russian command post.
Suddenly, the ringing of Glib's telephone stops the triumphant speeches. He silences the others with great gestures. It is the University of Kharkiv calling him for his online entrance exam. The voice, sounding as if from another world, announces an immediate test in Ukrainian grammar. "If the questions are too difficult, you tell them you don't have network," whispers a colleague. And Glib, looking suddenly serious: "Hey, if I don't get a degree, what will I do after the war?"