“Only the Dog Sleeps Through It”: An Account of Nighttime Kharkiv

Dariia Khlebnikova works as a project manager at our partner organisation WBWU in Kharkiv. In the following account, she has written down her experiences of the night-time attacks by the Russian army.

The last few weeks have been very restless and tense due to the resumption of nighttime drone attacks, which are now combined with missile strikes. The duration of the attacks has also increased: While previously, an attack lasted for about 15-20 minutes, which were 6-8 missiles or about one or two drones, the attacks now continue for an hour and a half to two hours. Almost every night. Dozens of drones circling over the city and region, flying into the city or passing through it in transit, keep us in tension and anticipation.

On the nights we are not fortunate, the attacks on the city hit residential areas. Usually, they hit infrastructure facilities – repair workshops, industrial zones, and transport hubs. On the one hand, this is better than in Sumy or Zaporizhzhia region, where mostly residential areas and ordinary citizens are under attack, with many killed and wounded, including children. But strikes on industry and repair facilities also cost us quite dearly. Kharkiv is a frontline city; there are many military personnel here, and their transport, armoured vehicles, and tanks are also repaired here. Our air defence system fighters try to minimise these attacks and protect the city, but unfortunately, they are not all-powerful, and the enemy also doesn’t stand still and improves their drones.

The main strikes on the city come during the most difficult nighttime hours, when everyone is sleeping – the “night owls” already, and the “early birds” still. From 2 to 4 AM, the silence is surreal, even the birds are quiet. It’s hot, windows are open. And you get up from bed when you hear the characteristic “buzzing” sounds of a drone, then bursts of gunfire when mobile sky defender brigades try to shoot it down. And finally, a whistle and an explosion. Windows shake, the blast wave rolls from room to room, your heart pounds in your ears. Lately, they come in pairs, so in a minute or two, everything repeats.

And then you can exhale and start hurriedly checking Telegram channels where they write about drone and missile movements and explosion sites. You type messages to family groups, friends and colleagues, asking if everyone is okay, fingers trembling either from nerves or perhaps from lack of sleep. The last time I had such difficult nights was when my boys were still infants – I thought that was it, there wouldn’t be any more nights with such a broken sleep rhythm.

It seems to me that the children already go to the safe place without waking up, silently sit with their eyes closed, and then also silently go back to their beds. And I can’t fall asleep for another thirty to forty minutes. It seems that my dogs have the strongest nervous system. The older one doesn’t come with us from her bed to the safe place, she won’t wake up even if an explosion sounds right over her ear. The younger one runs after us and doesn’t understand why the whole family is rushing somewhere around the apartment in the middle of the night, but for him, it’s entertainment.

In recent days, such nights have become routine; it’s very hard to fall asleep, every typical sound lifts you from bed on reflex. Along with this, we lead normal lives during the day, go to work, take exams, and walk our pets. We no longer notice the fatigue and nervous tension, but it doesn’t leave us. And every night it becomes harder to wake up and move to the safe place, and during the day to continue working, studying, communicating.