Ukraine Crisis In liberated Kherson, residents between jubilation and disbelief
After eight and a half months of Russian occupation, the Ukrainian forces were greeted with emotion by the population of this city in the south of the country.
By Rémy Ourdan for Le Monde (Kherson)
Posted today at 06:57, updated at 09:12
The fog of dawn still envelops Kherson when the first inhabitants appear on Freedom Square, only about twenty at first. Few of them had the privilege to participate in the first celebrations of the city's liberation, the evening before, dancing around a brazier. Many, in Kherson cut off from the world, heard only a distant and uncertain echo of the historic event of November 11, through the stories of neighbors, or because they saw, in their street, a column of Russian soldiers leaving or Ukrainian fighters entering the city.
The first visual confirmation of the recapture of Kherson by the Kiev armed forces, for these people who had no access to television or social networks during the night, comes at dawn on Saturday 12 November: a Ukrainian flag is planted in Freedom Square, in front of the deserted building of the regional administration. It floats in the wind on what was a monument dedicated to the heroes of the Maidan revolution, destroyed by Russian forces in the first days of military occupation.
There are also these four police officers on duty around a van, who seem to be wondering what they are doing there, alone at this early hour, in a city which the Ukrainian general staff fears is still infested with plainclothes Russian agents, or soldiers from Moscow who missed the hour of departure before the bridges connecting it to the other bank of the Dnieper were cut.
A first military jeep appears in the fog. Three special forces commandos emerge, bearded, drawn features. Immediately grabbed by the inhabitants, entwined, congratulated, they quickly put on a smile that had perhaps disappeared from their face over the months of fierce fighting. The three fellows, in control of their emotions, seem almost surprised by the intensity of the welcome, by the gestures and the words of these Ukrainians who cling to them as one would cling, after a long time under water, to a lifeline.
"Surreal"
“Are you real? ! asks a woman . She wants to touch them, kiss them. Another woman brings yellow and blue ribbons – the colors of Ukraine – from her shop. People ask soldiers to write a word on them with a black marker, then wrap them around their wrists or pin them to their coats. On the other side of the square, men hoist a flag on the roof of the Ukraine cinema. "These Ukrainian flags everywhere, I can't believe my eyes" , a lady is moved.
The central square is gradually filling up. The soldiers of the 28th Mechanized Brigade, at the forefront of the battle for the reconquest of the Kherson region, arrive at the city center. Then there are the police forces. After eight and a half months of occupation, suffering, silence, emotion overwhelms Freedom Square. The people of Kherson are in tears. Young girls hug the soldiers. Children wave flags. Everyone wants a hug, a shoulder to rest on for a second, a smile to share.
In a city without electricity, without water, without phone, everyone takes out a cell phone with a miraculously charged battery and takes pictures. Memories to look back on later. "As soon as the phone network is restored, I will send these pictures to my children abroad," says one woman. "You won't have to wait too long," smiles the special forces officer. He orders a soldier to deploy three Starlink antennas in the square. After a few minutes, the first phones begin to vibrate, releasing jams of waiting messages. The satellite network is so quickly taken over that it quickly becomes overwhelmed, impossible to make any call or send a picture. No matter. It's time for joy.
In the center of Freedom Square, one takes pictures in front of the destroyed monument, where residents lay flowers in tribute to those who fell in 2014 for the independence of Ukraine. In front of the Ukraine cinema, waiters at Topy, the only café open in a ghost town where all the curtains are down, take out five tables on the terrace and start serving hot tea and coffee. "It's surreal..." murmurs a young man. "It's almost as if this is peace, normal life."
A humiliating retreat for the Moscow army
Some inhabitants, seeing the presence of a journalist, start to spontaneously evoke the months of occupation, "the fear of the Russians", "the lack of everything", "the wait for the return of our guys". A woman is indignant: "Why is Putin doing all this? Why this war? Ask him this question in your newspaper!" Another tells us that "the Russians stole everything, the food in the stores, the books in the libraries, the carpets in the wedding hall, and even the little train in the kindergarten!"
Although it was less sudden than in the Kiev region and less chaotic than in the Kharkiv region, the retreat from Kherson was just as humiliating for the Moscow army. It marked the third bitter failure of the Russian war in Ukraine, while the city, conquered on 2 March, was the only Ukrainian regional capital to have passed under Russian control.
Zhanetta, a doctor whose apartment overlooks the square, saw "these checkpoints where Russian soldiers were stopping men, searching cars, searching phones." "The Russians said they were there 'forever'. We looked at them from our windows, without saying anything. We were waiting for our soldiers so impatiently," she says in a choked voice.
Anton, a young photographer who aspires to work for the press, was unable to document the occupation. "I was too scared. I only left my house twice in eight and a half months," he says. Once to see a friend downstairs. The other time, it was to try to flee Kherson, towards the territory under Ukrainian control. We went through about 30 checkpoints and at the last one, the Russian soldiers wouldn't let us through. It was a terrifying journey." Olga, a young psychologist who specializes in medical checkups for sailors in the port of Kherson, also didn't venture onto the streets of her city during the occupation. "The Russians came once to search my house. Then I stayed at home with my parents."
"This is the best day of my life!"
A man parks an old black Soviet-era Pobeda at the curb. Strollers gather to admire the antique. The car is equipped with six speakers, and it blasts I Have Nothing by Whitney Houston. "Don't walk away from me/I have nothing, nothing, nothing/If I don't have you," Whitney sings. "You, Ukraine," sing the young people surrounding the car.
Olga shares a bottle of "Ukrainian champagne" with another woman. They drink from the bottle, like so many others in Freedom Square. "This is liberation. This is the best day of my life," says one man. Some begin to improvise dances. The Ukrainian anthem aside, the most popular tune is Chervona Kalyna ("Red Berries"), an old song that rocker Andriy Khlyvnyuk "Boombox" covered in the days after the Russian invasion and which became a rallying song of the Ukrainian resistance. Soldiers' jeeps that continue to drive through Kherson also play it. The crowd is waving flags and singing at the top of their lungs.
Shortly before sunset, the three guys from the special forces leave. The back of their pick-up has become a kind of altar covered with offerings: flowers, chocolate bars, children's drawings... Those of the 28th Brigade also leave, followed by the policemen. They return to their bases, away from the city. Oleh, a police special forces fighter, is one of the last to sign flags and ribbons. "I have no words to express what I feel, my emotion," he says modestly. I am from Kherson. This is my hometown, I used to live here." Oleh does not want to talk about his departure in February, or his war. Another day, perhaps. "Please, write 'Glory to Ukraine' on this flag," a little girl asks him.
Night falls. In the distance, Ukrainian artillery fires a salvo of shells. The war is not over," says a soldier. Our comrades are on the front, advancing towards other territories to be liberated. We have received orders to spend a day or two in Kherson to see the population, but tomorrow we join them." In the darkened city, the girls stop dancing. "I am a little afraid that the Russians will punish Kherson for being so happy," says Natalya. Liberation is good, but it is not yet peace.