In war-torn Ukraine, Russian missile strike destroys Okhmatdyt Children’s Hospital in Kyiv
Breathing became nearly impossible. The faces of those around me conveyed the panic they felt as they suffocated. Many did not survive.
- 4 months ago
July 30, 2024
KYIV, Ukraine — In 2003, at just 14 years old, I left Odesa with my family for Patagonia, Argentina, seeking better opportunities. Despite the distance and years, my heart remained connected to my homeland. When war broke out between Russia and Ukraine in 2022, my older brother Taras and I knew we needed to return.
We couldn’t sit back while our country fell under attack. I volunteered, while my brother joined as a sergeant. I never imagined I would lose him along the way. More recently, on July 8, 2024, I witnessed the Russian missile strike on Okhmatdyt Children’s Hospital – Ukraine’s largest children hospital, located in Kyiv.
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Returning to Ukraine to join the fight
Before my family migrated, my brother Taras completed a term of military service in Ukraine and obtained the rank of reserve sergeant. So, when we decided to fight against the Russian invasion, he joined a battalion of the Ukrainian National Guard with rank upon arrival. Meanwhile, with no military service whatsoever, I jumped in as a volunteer.
When Taras and I arrived back in Ukraine, I connected with a group of Spanish-speaking foreign volunteers. The first four months proved incredibly difficult. We relied on our own resources, lacked proper clothing, and had no weapons until we became part of the army.
Fighting at the front filled me with pure adrenaline as I embodied the tension, and chaos. Although I felt strong and confident, I also experienced deep sadness at times, struggling not to falter. I feared even the slightest break in my focus could cause me to fall apart completely.
Together with my brother, we plunged into the darkness of war. Missiles struck daily, destroying everything in their path. We saw explosions and watched as rubble and debris from buildings flew through the air. The cities sat empty and deserted, making them terrifying. Our survival felt uncertain, knowing that at any moment, a missile could hit and kill us.
In November 2022, while in combat with my brother, the worst possible thing happened. Shrapnel hit Taras’ body. I ran desperately to help him, but he died in my arms. The pain in my heart felt immense. To honor my brother and allow his fight for our nation’s freedom to continue, we named our battalion after him: Argo. After Taras died, we continued fighting in the area. I remember seeing people running in panic, not knowing what to do. Wounded individuals, piles of rubble, and dead bodies lay on the pavement. Some days, I felt like the monster of war was swallowing us whole.
Russian missiles destroyed the Okhmatdyt Children’s hospital
On Monday, July 8, 2024, a Russian cruise missile destroyed part of the Okhmatdyt Children’s Hospital in Kyiv. The attack killed at least 30 people and injured more than 130 others. The shelling created a scene of complete desolation and anguish. The explosion was deafening, and the rumble and tremor enveloped the city.
The mighty explosion blew out windows, flinging furniture and shattered glass. Drops of blood splattered along the corridors and doors of the hospital. Emergency workers combed the compound for survivors as the smoke stung our eyes. The facility was destroyed. Many children in the middle of surgeries when the missile hit, found their lives hanging in the balance. Ceilings collapsed, forcing doctors and patients to take shelter between the walls to try to survive.
I organized the group as we conducted relief efforts, searching for survivors. As I navigated through the 10-story main building, most spaces were reduced to rubble with blackened walls. The floor of one room lay covered with blood. The intensive care unit, operating theatres, and oncology departments took heavy damaged.
Volunteers lined up, passing bricks and other debris to each other, some with cuts on their hands. Smoke still billowed from the building, and some of the volunteers and emergency crews donned protective masks. The attack forced the hospital to close and evacuate. Some mothers carried their children on their backs, while others waited in the courtyard with their young ones. A few hours after the initial attack, another air raid siren sounded, sending many desperate mothers running for shelter with their children.
Evacuating survivors: “I had to stay focused to ensure the doctors could reach patients safely”
Doctors and nurses left the hospital with children on stretchers or carrying them in their arms, treating them amidst the debris and smoke. Some mothers shielded their infants with cloth to prevent them from inhaling the toxins. Breathing became nearly impossible.
The faces of those around me conveyed the panic they felt as they suffocated. Many did not survive. I felt terrified and immensely sad seeing wounded, cancer-stricken children fighting this second battle. People flooded the streets, desperately looking for their relatives. One mother ran out of the building with her baby girl’s catheter still in place. Others, shivering, clutched their babies, while wounded and dazed doctors tried to comprehend the scale of the devastation.
I had to stay focused to ensure the doctors could reach patients safely. We set up treatment areas in nearby parks to accommodate patients. A multitude of ambulances lined the streets, transporting the most vulnerable children. Fire trucks entered the perimeter to continue clearing the rubble. Children waited on the shattered pavement. Some were wrapped in sheets while others sat in wheelchairs and donned oxygen masks. The sight proved tragic and hellish. Russia’s attack on one of Ukraine’s largest pediatric hospitals became an unforgettable sight. These children were already fighting for their lives. This is unforgivable.
Community unites in grief: Thousands form human chain to clear debris
Meanwhile, the community came together in grief. Hundreds of neighbors flocked to the hospital with water and aid, comforting those affected and searching for the missing. Many injured children remained trapped under the rubble. Suddenly, thousands of people gathered around the hospital, forming a human chain, removing debris piece by piece.
Children, adults, the elderly, rescue teams, people from wealthier parts of society, military personnel, and doctors in blood-covered coats all worked together to rescue survivors. Hand to hand, we passed pieces of concrete, pipes torn apart by the impact, and fragments from what had been a building just hours before. We sought to clear the area and unearth possible victims.
Against this backdrop, my blood ran cold as we laid bodies on the grass and covered them with blankets. War alone is heartbreaking, aggressive, and merciless. Every time I experience these situations, I feel a stronger urge to fight. Over time, I learned I cannot give room to anguish and fear. I cannot show weakness, or I would immediately become destabilized. I strive every day to keep a cool head and prepare myself for something even worse than the present.
Walking through this hell on earth is indescribable. Death follows you at every turn. People lose their homes; looters steal, murder, and rape. Much of the city becomes piles of concrete. When you watch innocent children die, your heart aches, and that pain is unbearable. I hope this war ends soon enough. In the meantime, I will continue to stand with my comrades and fight for freedom.
