An independent reporting media that covers Russia's crimes in Ukraine
The American M114 gun is now in action on the Pokrovsk front, holding back the Russian onslaught. Originally built in 1943 to halt the advance of Nazi forces during World War II, it was transferred to Ukraine by the Czech Republic during the full-scale war.
The city falls silent as it greets the funeral procession. Just a few minutes later, as the procession turns a corner, street traffic resumes. The act of remembrance permeates reality, shaping the rhythm of everyday life. How Lviv lives with the war, far from the front – a report by Frontliner.
The maxillofacial surgery ward is crowded. Men in civilian clothes and uniforms cluster by the exam rooms, wearing dark glasses or eye bandages. Among them — Oleksandr, who needs an ocular prosthesis after being wounded. So does Andrii. Ivan’s eye survived, but a fragment damaged the muscle and now he cannot open his eyelid.
Radiation, wild animals, and “Shaheds.” At night near the ghost city of Prypiat, a mobile fire group from the 25th Brigade stands guard under a sky where threats can appear without warning.
At the start of the full-scale invasion, the youngest soldiers were those born in 2003. Now — those born in 2007. Their feats and deaths are felt especially acutely, as recent school photographs have become portraits on graves.
At least 9,000 foreigners are fighting for Russia against Ukraine, according to estimates by the Coordination Headquarters “I Want to Live” project, a Ukrainian government initiative that operates a hotline to encourage Russian soldiers to surrender.
Russian soldier Mykhailo Romanov, commander of a tank regiment, has been accused by Ukrainian prosecutors of shooting a resident of the village of Bohdanivka and then raping his wife three times in 2022.
Even as U.S, President Donald Trump pushes for a peace deal with Vladimir Putin without a cease-fire, Russia is escalating its strikes on cities and towns in the Donetsk Oblast in eastern Ukraine, forcing thousands to flee.
Service members and veterans are excavating the Trypillian culture, thereby reclaiming themselves. They are rehabilitating through archaeology near Lehedzyne in Cherkasy Oblast.
Local authorities promised to bury every fallen defender at public expense, yet the mourners who trailed a cortege of three soldiers through town witnessed indignities money had not fixed. Widows and mothers were left convinced that the state’s help fell short.
An ambulance pulls away from Ukraine’s Heart Institute, a state-run facility in Kyiv, at 1 a.m. It speeds along at 150 kilometers per hour (93 miles per hour), occasionally turning on its sirens, as almost all the roads are empty. The destination: Korosten, a small town in the Zhytomyr region of northern Ukraine, approximately 90 miles (145 kilometers) west of Kyiv and near the border with Belarus. There, a deceased donor’s heart can save a seriously ill patient.
Seventy-three-year-old Lidiia Burlatska has lived through two wars in one city. In 2014, she did not leave Sloviansk during the occupation, and now she refuses to evacuate, even though the front line is approaching and is only 25 kilometers from her home. During three years of full-scale war, the retiree lost her son-in-law, learned to fall asleep to the sound of shelling, and stopped watching the news “because it hurts.” More than 50 years of living in Sloviansk have convinced her that there is no point in running away from what she has built her whole life. A Frontliner reporter spoke with a woman who lives where war has become part of everyday life, but where people still continue to hope.
Artist Valentyna Huk decorates the streets of Kharkiv with mosaics she has created herself. Today, six patterns made from the debris of windows that did not withstand Russian shelling hang on the city's buildings. Valentyna spends several weeks of painstaking work on each one, starting with searching for pieces of glass in the ruins and ending with assembling them into unusual “puzzles.” The artist showed Frontliner how sharp shards become “loud” street art under her delicate fingers.
Drones hunting enemy UAVs have become the latest twist in the battle of technologies. The war behind the controls and screens in a cozy dugout is somewhat reminiscent of a computer game, but the stakes are life itself. Frontliner visited the anti-drone drones of the 93rd Mechanized Brigade “Kholodny Yar” in the Donetsk direction and learned about the specifics of such hunting.
He survived the hell of Mariupol and several Russian prisons—and never broke. Oleksandr Savov, 33, was one of the last Ukrainian soldiers to surrender at the Azovstal steel plant — the vast industrial fortress in the besieged southern city of Mariupol— in May 2022. Three years later, on March 19, 2025, he stepped off a prisoner-exchange flight with broken ribs, missing teeth and a single thought: to hug his 12-year-old daughter.
Frontliner Reporter Andriy Dubchak and his colleague Inna Varenytsia have traveled to the Donetsk region to document life in frontline towns and villages. They will visit Ukrainian military positions, speak with locals, and share photos and reports from their journey. Follow their diary on the Frontliner website.
During a recent mass missile-and-drone attack on Kyiv in the early hours of 6 June, a Russian kamikaze drone ignited a large fire in buildings on Vadym Hetman Street near Shuliavska metro station, a busy transit hub on the capital’s Red Line just west of the city center. As firefighters, rescuers and the DSNS press team worked the scene, a deliberate “double tap” drone strike — now a grim new norm in Kyiv — hit the same spot. With U.S. deliveries of air-defence munitions growing uncertain, such follow-on strikes threaten to become even more frequent and deadlier.
The maxillofacial surgery ward is crowded. Men in civilian clothes and uniforms cluster by the exam rooms, wearing dark glasses or eye bandages. Among them — Oleksandr, who needs an ocular prosthesis after being wounded. So does Andrii. Ivan’s eye survived, but a fragment damaged the muscle and now he cannot open his eyelid.
