IRPIN, Ukraine — This suburb northeast of Kiev has become one of the most controversial and symbolic battlefields of Russia’s brutal invasion of Ukraine. It was claimed this week that Ukrainian forces had managed to defeat the invaders after slaughtering hundreds of civilians in the Russian advance on the capital. A few days after the mayor announced that Irpin had been released, we began to see for ourselves. After a 20-minute drive from Kyiv on Thursday, a French colleague, my driver Sasha and I arrive in Stoyanka, at the western end of the capital. The place is damaged: A gas station has collapsed under bombardment and the burnt vehicles are spread on the highway leading to Jytomyr. This is one of the last checkpoints on the road to Irpin. Exhausted members of the Territorial Defense manning it try to prevent us from going further. “It’s not safe there!” warns Victor, a 20-year-old carrying an AK-74 in a slingshot. He invites us for coffee at their base, a former Georgian restaurant called Radio Tbilisi. We share a cigarette and discuss our idea of going to Irpin. Deplores. The entire city has not been declared safe and remains within range of artillery and rockets. After weighing the risks, we decide to try our luck nonetheless. “It’s your responsibility,” Victor sighs as he shakes our hands. A winding road through a forest leads us to the entrance of Irpin. As we approach the city, Sasha stops the car. About 500 meters above, a black car carrying a white “V” with spray blocks the road. Its windows look broken, its trunk open. we hesitate. “It could be the Russians,” our guide says cautiously. About five minutes later, a Ukrainian soldier comes out of the forest. We ask him if it is safe to go further. He shrugs his shoulders. “It may.” We decide to do it.
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A few miles ahead, we meet members of the Ukrainian special forces clearing the city. After some negotiation, their commander, Phil, agrees to take us on a tour of the city. “I can only take you to the area we cleaned. “The rest of the city is not safe,” he said. We started walking to a two-story house next door, where the soldiers are taking a break. Phil barks orders in Ukrainian and the men start picking up their equipment. One of them displays his Savage sniper rifle with childish enthusiasm. “It’s American!” he tells us with a smile. Once they are ready, Phil turns to us: “Have you ever seen a headless body? It’s not beautiful. ” We have been warned that there are four civilians who are dead further down the road, killed by either shrapnel or snipers. According to the city’s mayor, Oleksandr Markushyn, between 200 and 300 Irpin residents have been killed since the beginning of the Russian invasion. “Let’s go,” says Phil. We snake through alleys, keeping close to the walls of the houses. Every building in this residential area bears the marks of battle: The windows are damaged, the facades full of bullet holes or shrapnel. Around the corner of a house, we meet a bus carrying a red cross that has been shot, with its windows broken. Inside, a teddy bear is lying face down, covered with soil. “Children are shooting, fucking bastards!” exclaims a soldier. In the front seat of the bus, a first aid kit has been opened, with its contents scattered on the floor. We go further on the road. As we move towards the city, the rhythmic beat of the air defense systems is heard echoing in the surrounding forest. “It’s ours,” says one of the soldiers, smiling. We pass a construction site where we meet the first dead body, a man wearing blue jeans and a blue jacket. “Protect yourself,” says Phil, pointing to another body a hundred yards ahead. He is a man. His face is rotten, revealing his skull. A part of the trunk is missing. His belongings are scattered around. Once we get the whole thing from an observer, we move on, covered at all times by a sniper. Behind us, soldiers are watching. “Watch your feet,” a soldier tells me as we pass through an open field. “For mines?” I ask. “Yes, that’s,” as he points to the dog wiping the place. Laughs. About 50 yards in front, a man’s body rots, with his chest exposed. Another, a woman, is lying face down next to a small crater. Her body is covered with a jacket. “One mortar killed them,” says Phil. As we stop to take pictures from the scene, one of the soldiers accompanying us discovers another corpse behind a nearby fence: She is a woman in a pink jacket, still holding her bag. “She’s probably been there for a few days,” she says, as she hangs her belongings nearby. To make it easier to recognize her later, she tells me.
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We return to the main road, until a gray Renault that, as we are told, has fallen over a Russian tank. Fortunately, no one seems to be inside at the time. A school bag rests on the rear left wheel. Until there we will go to Irpin. “The rest of the city has not been cleaned yet,” says Phil, as he points to the apartment buildings in the distance. On the way back, the Ukrainian soldiers insist on showing us a car that was allegedly stolen by Russian soldiers trying to leave the city. The car, a white BMW with a spray-painted “V” on its doors, is full of laptops, phones, and ammunition. We are told that the Russians looted the nearby houses leaving the city. We ask about the driver’s fate. “He was killed.” Despite our research, we do not have more details.
Guillaume Ptak / The Daily Beast
After being confirmed on the radio that the road is clean, Phil leads us back to the entrance of the city. As we get into our car, he shakes our hand and shouts: “Glory to Ukraine!” before heading back to Irpin.
