Arizona Tribune - Residents leave Ukraine's Chasiv Yar to escape Bakhmut fighting

He still suffers migraines but largely blames his headaches on the constant sound of artillery firing in the town of Chasiv Yar, eastern Ukraine.

"It's very noisy," he told AFP. "My nerves are shot."

Right on cue, the deafening sound erupts of shells launched towards Russian positions in neighbouring Bakhmut, where fierce fighting has been taking place since May last year.

At 7:30 am on Wednesday, Slabun, 62, had already been waiting for half an hour for the evacuation bus out of Chasiv Yar.

"It's a habit," he said with a toothless grin, lighting a cigarette and putting it to his lips through a thick salt and pepper beard.

"It's better to be early than late."

Soon, a white minibus arrives and he greets the driver and volunteer with a firm handshake, stubs out his smoke and clambers on board.

His two small holdalls -- all he is leaving with -- are loaded in the back.

"I'll return when the Ukrainian army has won," he said. "I was born here and all my family are buried here."

- Shelling -

The minibus, operated by the charity Save Ukraine, picks its way through the snow-covered streets on the way to its next pick-up, taking advantage of a relative lull in the firing.

The charity has been evacuating the vulnerable from conflict zones in Ukraine since 2014. As of early February, it said it had moved more than 83,000 children, adults and disabled people to safety.

In recent weeks, more people have been requesting help to get out of Chasiv Yar, as the fighting in and around Bakhmut inches closer.

The first stop for passengers is Pokrovsk, a 90-minute drive away to the southwest, and an emergency assistance centre run by the charity.

From there, they will be helped to find longer-term accommodation to start a new life elsewhere.

Lubov, 65, is heading to the western city of Lviv with her daughter, Olena, 45, with their two small dogs, Liolik and Richard, on their laps.

"It's a bit scary when the shelling happens and we obviously don't want to hear it," said Lubov, who didn't give her surname.

"I want to see my granddaughter, who lives where we're going. We hope the Ukrainian army will fight for us and defeat the Russians. Then we'll come back."

– No choice -

The minibus slips and slides down a sidestreet, coming to a halt where Mykola Yakimovich, 71, is waiting in his carpet slippers.

He is staying in Chasiv Yar but his wife, Lubov, 68, their son, also called Mykola, two cats and two dogs are leaving for his sister-in-law's in Dobropillia, north of Pokrovsk.

"I don't want to go," he said. "I've lived my life, so my son should live his.

"Since 2014 there's been a lot of bad things happening. It's better to take them away from here."

As ever, ordinary people are bearing the brunt of conflict, he said, before the family exchanges hugs and the bus drives away.

Lydia Ivanovna, 62, needs help as she leaves her home, walking with a stick and leaning on the supportive arm of Save Ukraine volunteer Andriy.

"I'm afraid to stay here because they're shooting and they could kill me. We've been told to leave," she said.

"I'm leaving my home and all my belongings because I don't have a choice. I'm old, I'm sick, so what am I going to do? I cry every day."

Dogs mill around, intrigued by the flurry of activity, as Ivanovna's friend, Tamara, 75, and another charity volunteer Yaroslav help carry her bags.

"I came to say goodbye," she said. "And they asked me to care of their pets."

L.Adams--AT