We need real peace’: Easter truce fails to lift grim mood in war-torn Ukraine
The Orthodox Easter truce, brokered between Russia and Ukraine, commenced Saturday afternoon. However, just 38 minutes later, air raid sirens echoed across the Kharkiv region, northeastern Ukraine. Despite the pause in hostilities, ceasefire violations continued along the front lines, though no long-range missile or drone strikes were reported. The truce, lasting until Easter Monday, aims to provide a rare moment of calm after four years of Russia’s full-scale invasion.
“Easter should be a time of safety, a time of peace,” Ukraine’s President Volodymyr Zelensky wrote on X, vowing that Ukrainian forces would retaliate “strictly in kind” to any Russian moves. Trust in the agreement is thin, as the conflict shows no signs of easing.
In the heart of Kharkiv, families arrived at St John the Theologian Church with baskets of iced Easter cakes, painted eggs, and sausage for a blessing. They queued around the building to receive holy water from the parish priest. The traditional midnight service was moved to mid-afternoon due to curfew restrictions, yet the spirit of the holiday felt distant amid the war.
“Do you believe them?” Fr Viktor asked, reflecting on the truce’s promise. The church, once damaged at the war’s outset, still bears boarded-up windows, a reminder of the relentless conflict.
Close to the Russian border, members of the Yasni Ochi strike UAV unit, part of the Khartia corps, spent the weekend testing advanced equipment. They loaded kamikaze drones with explosives and practiced dive attacks on targets. Their commander, Heorhiy, ordered troops to stay alert unless under attack, anticipating Moscow’s next move. “Russia says one thing, then does the other. So you have to be ready,” Heorhiy said.
Meanwhile, those on rotation sent Easter cakes and alcohol-free wine to frontline comrades via drone. The training village, once occupied by Russian forces in 2022, now lies in ruins after being reclaimed by Ukraine. Yet, discussions about reclaiming territory like the Donbas region feel increasingly distant.
“We need real peace talks,” the commander stressed. He pointed to the Middle East conflict, where Ukraine’s drone expertise and technology have been sought, as a sign of global recognition of its role in the war.
As we traversed Kharkiv’s ring road, netting now stretched across the path to ensnare Russian drones. Still, the threat of missiles hitting civilian areas looms large. In a nearby suburb, several five-storey apartment blocks were shattered, while others stand boarded up and uninhabitable. Last month, a missile strike at dawn claimed 11 lives, demolishing an entire section of a building.
“This truce is only 1.5 days. But at least we can rest a bit, because here, you expect to die every second,” Olha said, showing footage of her ruined home. “We really want peace.”
Amid the destruction, a red rug still clings to a living-room wall, alongside photographs of the victims. Olha, who sheltered with her elderly mother during the attack, described the chaos of that night. “The building opposite was consumed by orange flames, and my flat was in pieces,” she recounted, underscoring the urgency of the truce.
