The driver raises the volume of the car radio as soon as the time for the news flash has arrived. We understand that there was still “fighting in districts of Kiev” as well as “extremely violent strikes in Kharkiv”and that the Ukrainians continue to “fleeing hell”. Oleg, seated at the front, seat 6D, shakes his head as he watches the landscapes of plains passing by at 100 km/h on his right: “Since the Russians attacked us, I’ve only been thinking about that, about this war. I can’t concentrate on anything anymore. In the office, I am no longer efficient. So it’s good that I have to go home to Kiev.”
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Already two hours since the 42-year-old Ukrainian is on board this fluorescent green bus from the Flixbus company, Wednesday March 2. He embarked in Krakow, a large city in southern Poland, where he has lived for seven years with his wife and daughters. Officially, he assures us, it is to see his parents, stranded in the Ukrainian capital, that he travels these 900 interminable kilometres. The proof: he found space in his suitcase to bring them some medicine. The financial analyst also took his laptop, “just in case”, “to be able to consult work emails and respond to them if necessary”. But of course it’s not just that: “I’m also going there to help.” “I’ve never really touched a weapon, he clarifies, rubbing his hands against his sweatpants. But it’s not something that worries me, believe me.” The plan of his journey: crossing the border between Poland and Ukraine, stopping in Lviv, before heading to the capital, Kiev, “by train, car or bus”.
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Poland has 1.25 million Ukrainian citizens, according to Selectivv DMP database (link in Polish). VSHow many, like Oleg, have already crossed the border towards their native country to lend a hand in the fighting? No official figures have been released. But the number of buses, minibuses, shuttles, the number of carpool ads offering to drop off whoever wants to the border is a good indicator. From Krakow therefore, but also from the capital, Warsaw, from Wroclaw, Poznan, Lublin, Katowice…
These buses, which many normally take to go on vacation or weekends for cheap, are now used for the war effort. By force, our Polish driver, Wojtek Szczygiel, recognizes them, “all those who are not there as tourists”. “When I see a guy alone, with an army color package, I say to myself ‘OK, he will fight’, he says at the Rzeszów station, pulling on a cigarette. On Tuesday, I again took a group of five or six young Ukrainians. Same, they were coming in to lend a hand.”
“The guys are there, by -5°C, in the dark, in a bus station, before going to war. It’s a lot of emotion every time. I have my family here, my life is quiet.”
Wojtek Szczygiel, bus driverat franceinfo
The day before, at Warsaw-West bus station, a short man barely 1.70 m was waiting to board a West Travel bus. Vasyl, 36, was about to “return to the country to defend it”. His ticket “to go to war” cost him 110 zlotys (23 euros). “I come home when everyone is fleeing, he summarizes, smirking, hands in his pockets. I looked at the schedules and routes and made a reservation.” In his huge bag, things for several weeks. But above all, a jar of spread “for the parents”. On a bench, Victor, khaki jacket on his back, seems to have promised someone pastries to celebrate his return to Ukraine. On his right, another passenger, in his thirties, holds his plastic ticket and his 40-kilogram bag tight. But it’s his vegetable bag, which he has to bring back to the family, that worries him: “Will there be room?”
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Maria and Aleksandra, Oleg’s two daughters, aged 15 and 18, would have liked above all to keep their father on the quay. “Neither they nor my wife understood what I was doinghe admits, fiddling with his smartphone. They were against. It was not easy to leave them.” And his boss? Not much more… “When I explained my plan to him, he said to me: ‘Huh? But you’re crazy! Why are you doing this? Stay in Poland!’ But I feel that’s what I have to do, it can’t be explained.”
To his colleagues, who expressed their support to him again just at the beginning of the week, Oleg promised that he would see them again soon, “in a month maybe”. The truth ? “I haven’t taken a return ticket yet.” Vasyl also promised his Polish friend who accompanies him before the big departure that they will meet again “quickly”. “See you”, he told her, climbing the four small steps of the bus, before settling in his place, window side, making the “V” for victory with his hand, then turning around to dry a few tears.
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4:25 p.m. Our Flixbus stops again. Bus station of Rzeszów, c.capital of the Subcarpathian Voivodeship, 200,000 inhabitants. The last stop before the border. On the platform opposite ours, a white bus is packed. “Normal that there are people, our driver pointed out to us. Makes sense to him between the border and the center of Poland.” In ours, sOnly two passengers join us. “You can sit wherever you want, there is room”he suggests sympathetically. Dimitro, seat 11C, has already started gathering his things. He won’t go much further. “I live in Poland in Wroclaw, but I’m Ukrainian too, so I could go back… but I don’t want to, I can’t, he lets go, affected. I have absolute respect for my compatriots who are going to fight. But it is not that simple. My father died last May, and I’m the man of the house now. I can’t do this to my mother and my sister.” Leaving, perhaps never to return. Impossible.
“My mother and my sister tell me about the bombings every day. It’s not possible. I have to protect them. Do you understand me?”
The landscapes continue to scroll. A pub for a local beer, a blue sign indicating the direction of Lviv straight ahead, cattle, factories, a forest, and more cattle. On the front seat, 10B, Ivan will also be content to wait at the border on the Polish side for his few relatives who began their flight from the region of Drohobych. “I have friends who are currently in the ranks of the Territorial defense. They tell me: ‘Stay in Poland. When we need you, we’ll call you!'”
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6 p.m., the sun has already set on Przemysl and on the Medyka border post, one of the busiest since the beginning of Ukrainian exile. Our bus won’t go any further. Terminus for peace. Afterwards, it’s Ukraine and the war. Oleg was about to “grab” his suitcase and his next bus when Wojtek Szczygiel, our driver, who hadn’t known him three hours earlier, rushed over to hug him tightly for several seconds: “Good Luck”, “good luck”, he whispered to her. Then there was a long handshake. Afterwards, Oleg took off for good. He contacted us on Messenger a few hours later. It was to tell us that he had arrived safely. His last words: “Now let’s keep quiet.”