In a development that will shock absolutely no one with a functioning moral compass, a temporary truce has allowed hundreds of people to escape a war zone and hug their families. The evacuation from Russian-occupied Oleshky into Ukrainian-held territory began Friday and continued Saturday, marking the most significant ceasefire since Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine four and a half years ago - a sentence that should probably be read twice to fully absorb the bleakness.
Evacuees wrapped in Ukrainian flags stepped off buses at the Ukrainian-Belarusian border, where volunteers with hand-drawn welcome signs handed out coffee to people who had traveled by bus and plane through Russia and Belarus. Residents of nearby villages lined the highway waving flags and torches, presumably providing the kind of welcome that makes months of drone dodging feel momentarily worth it.
Tetiana Leonidivna, 71, thanked the Ukrainian soldiers who helped her flee. "We love them, we love them," she said through tears. "We know that they are protecting us. And a deep bow to them, and a deep bow to their parents, for having such children. I am proud, I am simply proud." It's the kind of sentiment that reminds you what all the geopolitical hand-wringing is actually about.
The ceasefire in Ukraine's southern Kherson region began early Tuesday and was expected to continue through Sunday evening. The White House said first lady Melania Trump helped broker the localized deal, while Pope Leo XIV pressed Russia and Ukraine to allow aid deliveries and evacuations - a diplomatic tag team nobody had on their bingo card.
Relatives and volunteers from the Red Cross, Médecins Sans Frontières and World Central Kitchen welcomed the evacuees at the border with aid, food, and - crucially - provisions for their pets. Because if you're fleeing a war zone, the least the international community can do is not make you choose between your cat and your survival.
Ivan Yevhenovych, 48, described the last months in Oleshky while holding a cigarette between shaking fingers. "It was very difficult. There were a lot of drones. It was hard to move around the streets," he said. "Since spring, there hasn't really been any staple food left. People had a little bit of their own reserves. We are thrifty people." He said landmines or drone strikes were killing residents every day - a detail that makes "thrifty" sound less like a virtue and more like a survival strategy.
An estimated 2,000 people remained in Oleshky when the temporary truce took hold. They were offered the choice of evacuation to Ukrainian- or Russian-held territory, or staying in the city with replenished food and medical supplies. "Many people stayed behind and didn't want to leave," Yevhenovych said. "Some for their houses, some for their animals." Priorities, it turns out, remain stubbornly human even in occupied territory.
Ukrainian authorities, seeking to protect those who remained and safeguard future humanitarian missions, have not said how many residents evacuated Oleshky and have restricted details of their route. Melania Trump posted on social media Friday that the humanitarian convoy could safely evacuate more than 750 people.
Liza Paliy, 19, waited at the border for her father, whom she last saw more than two and a half years earlier when she fled the occupied city with her mother and sister. "We thought at that time that it would be a month, two maximum, and we would return, but unfortunately two years have already passed," she said. A sentence that could double as a summary of the entire conflict.
Ukraine's human rights ombudsman, Dmytro Lubinets, hailed the humanitarian mission as a win. "This is an extremely important moment. Behind us are difficult negotiations, agreements, preparations, and an enormous amount of work. But most importantly, the people who waited so long to be rescued are finally safe," he said in an online post. Lubinets said evacuees ranged in age from just over one year old to 94, and they brought pets including dogs, cats, a parrot and a raccoon. He hoped the Oleshky truce could be replicated elsewhere, saying it "could form the basis of a new mechanism for responding to the most difficult humanitarian crises." A radical concept: doing the thing that works in more places.
Yana Lantratova, Russia's human rights commissioner, said both sides have agreed to conduct regular humanitarian missions in and around Oleshky. Lubinets did not mention this development. "The mission has concluded, but, unfortunately, living conditions in Oleshky remain extremely difficult," she said. "We will make every effort to support those residents who have made the decision to stay."
Some Oleshky evacuees who chose to move to Russian-occupied territory were taken to a temporary shelter in Simferopol, in Ukraine's Crimean peninsula, which Moscow annexed in 2014. "After everything they have endured and a long journey, it is essential for these people to rest, recover and feel cared for. However, support should not be limited to just a roof over their heads and a hot meal," Lantratova said in a social media post.
Meanwhile, the war continued its usual business. A Ukrainian drone attack killed a 30-year-old woman and a 41-year-old man in Russia's western Bryansk region, local governor Yegor Kovalchuk said Saturday. Five others were wounded. Local officials also reported Ukrainian drone attacks in the Russian republic of Bashkortostan, and Russian media said there was a fire in the regional capital, Ufa, home to several oil refineries. Russia's defense ministry said Saturday its forces had shot down 433 Ukrainian drones overnight. Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelenskyy said Moscow launched drone attacks on energy and railway infrastructure across Ukraine overnight, leaving 280,000 households in Dnipro and Kyiv regions without power.
So: a temporary truce, a few hundred people reunited with their families, a raccoon safely evacuated, and the rest of the war carrying on as scheduled. The bar for good news remains, as ever, somewhere near the floor.