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How Russian bombardment of a frontline village brought an estranged couple back together

Valeriy and his partner Nadia - Heathcliff O'Malley
Valeriy and his partner Nadia - Heathcliff O'Malley

There is scarcely a house in the farming village of Posad-Pokrovske that has not somehow been smashed by shelling.

The civic landmarks of the village school and sports centre are in ruins, while the roofs of homes are torn off and walls knocked down.

It seems impossible for anyone to have remained in the once-busy settlement for the months when it found itself on the front line between Mykolaiv and Kherson.

Yet somehow a few did and amid the rubble, there has even been love.

When the Russian invasion began, Valeriy Shulypa and Nadia Chernoshenko were living in separate houses. Both refused to leave even as the fighting got worse.

“My house is my castle. I feel better in my own house. I have food, I can cook, I don’t want to move,” explains Mr Shulypa, aged 49.

From the pre-war population of around 3,000 residents, humanitarian volunteers estimate somewhere around 30 stayed through the worst rather than evacuate.

As fighting has swept across Ukraine and millions have left their homes looking for safety, it has often been the most vulnerable, the elderly, the infirm and their carers, who have been trapped by advances.

The village of Posad Prokovske was on the frontline of the battles for Mykolaiv and Kherson - Heathcliff O'Malley
The village of Posad Prokovske was on the frontline of the battles for Mykolaiv and Kherson - Heathcliff O'Malley

Mr Shulypa and Ms Chernoshenko are none of those, but they chose to stay anyway, partly out of stubbornness and partly because of each other.

They were born 20 yards across the street from each other, watching each other grow up and going to the same school. As an adult, he went into the merchant navy before coming back home and getting a job at a grain silo. She became a farm labourer.

They had been together before, but at the time of the Russian invasion were living apart.

Mr Shulypa was reluctant to go into the history of their on-off relationship. “There were ups and downs. It’s not important now,” he said.

Russian forces pushed north out of Crimea toward Mykolaiv at the start of the war, and over the summer it was at Posad-Pokrovske that the Ukrainian front line solidified.

As Russian artillery battered the village, a shell hit Ms Chernoshenko’s family home. She was unharmed, but the roof was badly damaged.

The pair remained in the village throughout the entire battle - Heathcliff O'Malley
The pair remained in the village throughout the entire battle - Heathcliff O'Malley

Mr Shulypa went across the road to check she was alright.

He couldn’t bear to see her living without a roof, so he invited her to move in with him, and their relationship blossomed under otherwise terrifying circumstances.

“There were days when there were 150 or 200 impacts on the village,” he said.

“It was bad all the time. But we both wanted to stay. God will decide how long we live,” he added, glancing at her with a roguish smile.

Two shell holes in their garden show how close they came to disaster. Not only are the outside walls of their house peppered with shrapnel, but also the interior walls where shards of metal were blasted through the windows. They replaced the glass several times, only to have it blown out again.

They frequently slept in the basement. On at least one night they saw the twinkle of what they thought were fireworks raining down on the village, only to realise it was incendiary phosphorus munitions.

Ukrainian soldiers who had positions in the village advised them to leave, without success. Volunteers brought food to those left in the village and, in turn, the couple often cooked food for the troops.

“Soldiers told us we were either mad, or made of steel,” says Ms Chernoshenko, fussing over him as he recounts their story.

Valeriy and his partner Nadia - Heathcliff O'Malley
Valeriy and his partner Nadia - Heathcliff O'Malley

They relaxed and took their minds off the shells by making jigsaws together in the evening. Raised on tales of Second World War fortitude, they laid in stocks of food and prepared for winter. They also argued over whether it was safe to fly a Ukrainian flag from their metal gate.

Since then, things have become easier. The frontline has now moved on. Kherson to the south was liberated in mid-November and Posad-Pokrovske is slowly coming back to life. Hammering rings out across the ruins as returning families board up shattered windows, assess what can be salvaged and stretch tarpaulin across missing sections of roof.

Their romance is still going strong, and they have come to count on each other as they try to count the cost of the conflict in their village.

“We know a 21-year-old who died,” says Ms Chernoshenko “What is the reason for it? Who needs this war?”