Russia’s attacks on civilians and refusal of humanitarian aid for besieged frontline Ukrainians in the occupied territories have become a powerful symbol of the Kremlin’s barbarism. In recent weeks, the results of this anti-humanitarian campaign have been highlighted in the small, occupied town of Oleshky.
Conditions are critical in the town, which sits on a tributary river southeast of Kherson, the town liberated by Ukraine in 2023. Occupied since 2022, when it had a population of 24,000, its remaining residents are trapped without food, electricity, or proper medical help. They are pinned in their homes by the constant threat of Russian drones, mines, and artillery. Water is scarce; there have been no supplies for four months, and some are said to be eating dogs to survive.
Oleshky has made headlines and inspired campaigns around the world, but it is far from unique in the war-ravaged Kherson region. People in other settlements also face the choice of starving to death or taking their chances under fire.
“When my grandfather and grandmother left Oleshky, I said, ‘Once you get some rest, you need to have a full health check, because there are only four doctors left in Oleshky, and there have been no medications at all for the last six months,” 19-year-old Vlad from Oleshky, who now lives in Lyon, France, recalled. “They answered: “The best medicine for us right now is to eat, eat, just eat. Everything else can wait.”
The two 70-year-olds had managed to leave the brutality and food shortages of Oleshky by walking 25km (15 miles) along a mined road to Radensk, another occupied settlement and the nearest place cars could still reach.
“My grandfather said they were lucky to get out in time, because just three days later, the Russians announced that all attempts to leave would be blocked,” Vlad said. “Some people ignored the warning and tried to leave anyway, just to survive. A Russian drone struck someone they knew, and they lost a leg.”
“Is it theoretically possible to leave now? he wrote on Threads. “Yes. Has it become much more dangerous compared with two weeks ago? Yes.”
At the end of September, Ukrainian forces delivered around four tons of food and medicines to occupied Oleshky using drones. Reports suggest Russian soldiers stole many of the supplies, and some civilians who picked up the food were detained, beaten, and thrown into a basement.
The situation began to deteriorate significantly in the winter of 2025, according to media reports and conversations with people from the region. Before that, food, medicine, and fuel for generators could still be delivered to the town at least once every few weeks, and some residents were evacuated during such trips. The last food delivery was on May 26. Then, on June 2, two people were killed and two others seriously injured while attempting another delivery. On September 1, another group of vehicles trying to reach Oleshky spotted mines and had to turn back.
During the summer, people could still survive, organizing informal markets and exchanging food they had grown in their gardens, but now the growing season is over, and winter is approaching.
“Someone would come with some grain, someone with pears, someone with a beetroot. They swapped things among themselves,” said Olena Hnitetska, a Ukrainian journalist from the Kherson region who stays in touch with a friend’s mother who managed to escape. “She told me she was happy to get some kind of grain. And it wasn’t ordinary buckwheat; it was the kind you just soak in hot water and then eat for a whole week.”
After the Russians sabotaged the Kakhovka Dam in June 2023, Oleshky and the surrounding settlements never fully restored basic services. There were ongoing problems with electricity, gas, and communications, as well as serious shortages of drinking water. Cemeteries, hospitals, and morgues were flooded, and the dead were left unburied.
“My friend, who survived the flooding there, said there were so many bodies in people’s yards,” Olena said. “He was walking home through waist-deep water after the flooding and said corpses were floating in the water.”
Around 2,000 civilians remain in occupied Oleshky, including at least 45 children, according to Ukrainian officials. Five of the 13 settlements in the community have been completely destroyed, and another three are approximately 80% destroyed.
In some villages, only a handful of residents remain: six or seven people may live in one, and 12 in another.
“Even from settlements where there is no direct fighting and which are farther from the front line, leaving is extremely difficult,” said Oleksandr Tolokonnikov, deputy head of the Kherson Regional Military Administration. “People are stopped at [Russian] checkpoints, subjected to filtration, their phones and other devices are checked, and they can be detained for the slightest suspicion.”
The Russians see civilians as legitimate targets and drop small explosive mines from drones that mingle with leaves on the ground. When people then scramble to try to hide from an attack drone, they step on them as they focus on the sky rather than the ground.
“In five minutes, they can scatter these little “petals” everywhere,” said Olena, who was herself the victim of a drone attack. “You can know that an area is mined and still not see the mines.”
Hola Prystan, Stara Zburivka, Hornostaivka, Zavodivka, Kakhovka, and Nova Kakhovka are other settlements in the same death grip as Oleshky but without the international headlines.
“Where there are apartment buildings, where the Russians can place their drone positions because it is convenient for them to launch from there, where there are enough basements for them to hide, all these settlements can become Oleshky,” Olena said. “It is convenient for them to use civilians as human shields.” Despite several failed evacuation attempts and calls from Ukraine’s Foreign Minister for international organizations to secure access, there have been no humanitarian corridors for civilians. The United Nations says the Russians will not allow its personnel to enter the area.
In many cases, people stayed because they thought the war would not last long. Others could not leave, and now the only chance is if Moscow agrees to a humanitarian corridor that does not lead through mines, drones, or filtration.
Elina Beketova is a Fellow with the Democratic Resilience program at the Center for European Policy Analysis (CEPA). She is the author of Behind the Lines, a database and article series focused on Ukraine’s temporarily occupied territories.
Europe’s Edge is CEPA’s online journal covering critical topics on the foreign policy docket across Europe and North America. All opinions expressed on Europe’s Edge are those of the author alone and may not represent those of the institutions they represent or the Center for European Policy Analysis. CEPA maintains a strict intellectual independence policy across all its projects and publications.
