When the moist concrete walls deep below ground and the mold and the cold and the weeks without fresh fruit or vegetables became too much to bear, some in the Bunker underneath Elina Tsybulchenko.
The last Ukrainian holdout in the ruined city of Mariupol was located in the Azovstal steel plant, which was bombarded. They could look up and see something. It was like looking from the bottom of a well. It was as far away as peace for those who could not climb to the surface.
Seeing the sky was a sign of hope. It was enough to make Elina's daughter cry.
The United Nations and the International Committee of the Red Cross brokered a deal with the governments of Russia and Ukraine to evacuate the steel plant in Mariupol and the Tsybulchenko family was among the first to leave. More than 100 people fled the plant after a brief cease-fire.
They arrived in the southern Ukrainian city of Zaporizhzhia this week. They described their two months at the center of hell to The Associated Press.
Russian forces have pushed their way into the plant, where hundreds of people are trapped. The seizure of Mariupol is expected to have a central role in Moscow's celebration on May 9 of Victory Day, historically marking the end of World War II.
The bombardment of her city in the early days of Russia's invasion shocked her. She knew the steel plant was the only real shelter in town because of her memories of civil defense drills. She assumed they would stay a few days when she, her husband Serhii, her daughter and her son-in-law decided to hole up in her office.
Elina said they didn't even take toothbrushes. A few days turned into 60.
They only brought their documents, three blankets, two dogs and fruit in a basket. They didn't think they'd mark the holiday there.
The steel plant has a maze of more than 30 bunkers and tunnels spread out over 11 square kilometers. The evacuees would eventually meet on the buses to Zaporizhzhia and compare their experiences, but they had little or no communication with those in the other part of the plant.
Estimates of the number of civilians and Ukrainian fighters who remain are complicated by their isolation. The Ukrainian side said this week that a few hundred people are still trapped. There was an effort to evacuate Friday.
The number of people who are still alive is threatening to drop every day. Some evacuees watched in horror as the wounded succumbed to their injuries and first aid supplies ran out.
Serhii Kuzmenko said people rot like our jackets did. The foreman and his family fled the plant along with 30 other people.
The Tsybulchenko family lived among 56 people, with 14 children ages 4 to 17. The fighters brought down the bare ration oftinned meat, porridge, crackers, salt, sugar, and water. There wasn't enough to go around.
The family's old cocker spaniel was cold and staring at them. They decided that the dog had to die. It was an act of mercy. They asked a soldier for sleeping pills, but he said the dog might suffer more.
He let me shoot it.
rubble and scrap metal were placed atop the dog to protect it from other animals.
There wasn't much comfort. Elina said they went to bed like this every night and wondered if they would survive.
The benches were padded with the uniforms of the steel plant workers. They used buckets for toilets. They used plastic bags when the bombardment became too heavy. People played games to pass time. One piece of wood was carved into a toy.
The children were able to play in the room. Children drew what they wanted to see the most in an arts and crafts contest after people found markers and paper. They drew nature and the sun. They drew Easter eggs and bunnies.
The drawings were on the walls. The mold migrated to clothing and blankets from the corners. The only way to keep it dry was to wear it. After their first proper showers in months, the Tsybulchenkos were worried they smelled of mold.
When they tried to collect rain, they often used a solution of water and detergent to clean themselves and their dishes, which caused Elina to have an allergic reaction. She went to her office in the early days and brought down personal items that she had left there.
It was too dangerous to go above. The office collapsed in the bombardment.
Over the course of two months, the people in the Bunker would hear about the possibility of Mariupol being evacuated, only to learn they had failed. There was skepticism and fear when the news of the U.N.-negotiated evacuate was announced. The planning started with who should leave first.
Elina's cramped legs gave her trouble and others said the Tsybulchenkos should leave. The other people insisted. They assumed that everyone would be taken in the days ahead. Some wanted to see if the first evacuate was a success.
A small girl stayed behind and drew a flower, a heart and a message on Elina's arm. The girl's name was shortened to Leta.
Everyone in the Bunker agreed to meet at a cafe in Zaporizhzhia when the evacuees were done.
The Tsybulchenkos apologized to the others as they started toward the surface.
They said don't worry, we'll follow.
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Elina didn't know her workshop. The roof had been torn apart. Walls were destroyed. There were craters and unexploded shells on the ground.
The family and other evacuees blinked when they emerged from the rubble. The sunlight hurt their eyes.
It was not loud. For the first time, the Russian bombardment had stopped.
The weather was great, and the U.N. deputy humanitarian chief was waiting for the evacuees.
There was a dangerous stretch ahead. The receiving point for evacuees was a railway bridge. The buses were not far away.
The Russians tried to recover the mines they planted. The machine hadn't detected everything.
The Russians shouted from hundreds of meters away as he and a colleague approached in their vehicle. The machine was brought in again. More mines were found.
As the evacuees emerged, the Ukrainian soldiers walked ahead and behind them to make sure they were safe.
Elina said that they didn't see any bodies along the way. The Russians had taken them away.
Twenty-one people showed up on the first day. The rest came after. There were hugs and kisses when the second group met the first. They hadn't seen each other in Azovstal and didn't know what had happened to them.
The buses left the ruined city. Graveyards lined the streets. People hugged each other and held their heads in grief after the bus crash.
They could still see signs of life. It was the market day. There were people outdoors. Some peered through windows.
The evacuees were not safe. The buses headed east toward Russia. The U.N. staffers thought they were going there first.
The evacuees said they faced pressure from the Russians to go to their side. The Russians tried to board the buses, but they were not allowed to.
The priest asked the evacuees why they were leaving.
At times, the evacuees were stripped to check for military-style tattoos. Ihor, Elina's son-in-law, said that some Russians were nice. They were mocking if he spoke Ukrainian instead of Russian.
Ihor said that they always had this fear that they could end up going to Russia.
As the convoy slowly traveled around Mariupol, they could see flashes of light. Two women were killed and 10 people were wounded at the steel plant.
Russian forces pushed into the plant's perimeter with heavy, bloody battles.
The evacuees entered their shelter during the winter. The landscape was black and gray. After passing through no man's land, Elina noticed green and yellow fields again.
They entered Ukrainian-held territory after a harrowing final stretch of checkpoint.
Russian-controlled communities were urged by Ukrainian officials to join the convoy. The buses were not allowed to take them. Elina and other evacuees cried as they passed people waiting in vain.
Elina said they felt shame.
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Yesica Fisch is from Zaporizhzhia, Ukraine.
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The war in Ukraine is covered by the AP.
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