JohnDe
La dolce vita
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Russia's destruction of the dam that is located in Russian held territory shows that Putin and his Generals can no longer have the capacity to move forward or defend. It also shows their desperation. An advancing army does not flood land in front of them.
Instead, they have created two headaches of Ukraine forces; sending troops and equipment forward is now drastically reduced, and resources will have to be diverted to help flood victims.
The flooding has caused water restrictions to the Crimea region held by Russia.
Instead, they have created two headaches of Ukraine forces; sending troops and equipment forward is now drastically reduced, and resources will have to be diverted to help flood victims.
The flooding has caused water restrictions to the Crimea region held by Russia.
After the dam collapse, Russian-controlled areas have been abandoned
Russian forces appear not to care about the plight of inundated residents
Natalya was one of the fortunate ones. On June 8th she managed to get a connection to speak to her friends in Oleshky, across the Dnieper river on the Russian-occupied east bank. But the news was not good. The town, which sits in lowland, south of the destroyed Nova Kakhovka dam, is one of the worst-hit of all the settlements in Kherson region. Most of it is under water. Her friends survived only by climbing onto rooftops. They had asked Russian forces to help them evacuate, but were met with indifference. “My eyes are burning from tears,” Natalya says. “I’ve been crying all night.”
Those Khersonians living on the Ukrainian-controlled west bank have been dealt a double blow of war and ecological catastrophe. But for many of them, the immediate comparison is with those living across the Dnieper in occupied territories, where prospects are even worse. People are learning about abandoned loved ones over agonising phone calls—when they manage to get a connection. In November, Russian troops pulled back from the western bank, thereby splitting families, friends and neighbours left on different sides of a line of control. Now they are also separated by a wall of dangerously contaminated water.
Gafar Safronov, who is 39, last spoke to his godmother in Oleshky on June 7th at 7pm. The scarcely audible phone call was enough to find out that she was alive—but that her ducks, chickens and pigs were not. They drowned in the flooding, which had come on too quickly for her to do anything to save them. His godmother was now on the first floor of the partly submerged building. There were even rumours of corpses floating in town. “I’m sorry, it’s hard to speak,” he says, before moving into a corner to take a handkerchief to dry his eyes.
Mr Safronov’s neighbour, Natalya Mertsalova, a 35-year-old, tells a similar story. She got through to friends in Oleshky in a short phone call on June 7th. They reported that an obese man with difficulty walking had not been able to join his wife on the roof in time. She survived, but he did not, and now his corpse is under water. Ms Mertsalova heard that Russian forces had given operational security priority over the evacuation process, closing checkpoints as they moved their heavy weaponry. “Civilians have been left on their own,” she says.
In Hola Prystan, a town further down from the dam, residents were offered an early chance to evacuate, says Anna Ivanova, after speaking to her parents who remained in the area. But at first, the flooding was not bad enough to move; many chose to follow official advice suggesting that peak water flows would come by midday on June 6th. As a result, only 30 of an estimated 6,000 people evacuated. (A Russian-installed official in Kherson claimed that the number of evacuees was much higher.) Then came inundation. Anna’s father climbed onto his roof with his German-shepherd dog and waited for evacuation. Hundreds remain in similar conditions. Locals are rescuing themselves, sailing between each other’s roofs, using any available means.
Emotions are running high, but you have to be careful about what you say on the phone to relatives on the other side, explains Inna Voronova, 52, a shopkeeper at Kherson’s once-busy Shuminsky market. A loose tongue can land them in trouble, she says: “This week, I wanted to curse Putin so badly, but I remembered that phones are monitored.” The Russians, suggests Ms Voronova, believe that many of those who did not accept earlier offers of evacuation were secretly waiting for the Ukrainians to regain control and that is why they were reluctant to evacuate. Zoya, a neighbouring shopkeeper, also originally from the eastern bank, says recent reinforcements of Russian forces in the Kherson region had been especially anxious about local intentions. The new troops have even brought their own cook, she said. “They are afraid locals might poison them.”
Dmytro Kuleba, Ukraine’s foreign minister, announced on June 8th that agreement had been reached with the UN to form new emergency groups to help evacuate people from occupied territories. That initiative will prove difficult without the agreement of the Russian side, which appears unlikely to be forthcoming amid Ukraine’s counter-offensive. A military source in Kherson said there was little that the Ukrainian side could do. “As much as we want to help, we can’t send thousands of troops to their deaths by forming a rescue mission,” she said.