Severodonetsk’s last stand: brilliant manoeuvre or reckless waste of life?
June 27 2022, 5.00pm BST
Even the password allowing reinforcements into Severodonetsk sounded like a bad omen. “Valhalla,” said Vortex, the commander of a rapid reaction infantry battalion, the phrase that cleared their path into the battlefield.
The name of the warrior afterlife of Norse legend “set off all my superstitions”, he said. “I thought what a stupid choice, now we will not come back, even though it would be a heroic defence.”
Days later, with his forces depleted and survivors vomiting and stumbling from the constant artillery barrage, the order came from Kyiv for them to withdraw. Under cover of night they retreated to the river, crossing at dawn in rubber dinghies hauled across with ropes to the Ukrainian-held bank on the other side.
Seeing their retreat, the abandoned dog that had shared their collapsing trenches waded into the river and began swimming, leaving the city of Severodonetsk undefended to the Russian forces closing in.
“The losses we took were massive — thousands,” said Vitaly, a veteran sniper who fought on the Severodonetsk front lines for the whole two months the battle lasted. His battalion alone lost half its men.
Severodonetsk was, depending on your view, either a brilliant military manoeuvre, tying down thousands of Russian troops in pitched battle and exacting from them a brutally heavy cost for every metre of Ukrainian territory they stole. It may, as Vortex believes, have saved another more strategically critical front in the south, where Ukrainian forces are edging forward in their attempt to break the Russian Black Sea corridor, denying Moscow the chance to reinforce there.
Or it was a reckless expenditure of Ukrainian lives for territory indefensible against such massive Russian firepower, one that raises questions about which side will first become exhausted in what is fast become a grinding artillery war of attrition.
The eastern Donbas region is where Moscow set its sights after its humiliating early failure to seize Kyiv, retreating in early April to concentrate its forces on what the Kremlin called the war’s “absolute priority”.
Russian artillery battalions moved along with their separatist proxies to conquer the remaining Ukrainian-held parts of Luhansk and Donetsk, which
President Putindeclared as independent republics in the days leading up to the invasion.
Severodonetsk, from where Ukraine administered what was left in their hands of Luhansk, would always have carried totemic significance for either side, even before President
Zelensky tied the battle to the fate of the entire Donbas region, saying its future would be decided there.
The heroic battle of a small number of isolated and outgunned troops to hold it was, Zelensky argued, both evidence of Ukraine’s fighting spirit and of its desperate need for more sophisticated western multiple rocket launch systems capable of taking out Russian artillery. As the first of those, American-supplied Himars (high mobility artillery rocket system) arrived in Donbas last week, the
order came to abandon Severodonetsk and retreat across the river to the high ground of its twin city of Lysychansk, now Ukraine’s last toehold in the whole of Luhansk.
Vortex believes the city could have been saved if only the weapons had arrived before. “Just three days earlier and we could have held Severdonetsk,” he said. By the time he arrived in there “it was a wasteland. The Russians destroyed Severodonetsk, there was no city there any more.” In frustration, a fellow commander bellowed down his radio: “I don’t need reinforcements, I need buildings to fight from.” Even the forest around it had been stripped of cover by the relentless Russian shelling.
Vitaly believes the battle was a costly performance. “It was a political point to hold it, it was no longer defensible,” he said with the bubbling frustration of a man sent to fight artillery with a precision rifle.
Fighting there, he argued, wasted time better spent digging defensive positions on the opposite bank in Lysychansk where the Ukrainians benefit from higher ground. A general who argued for an earlier retreat to defend the city was rotated off the battlefield, he said, with disgust.
By the time they got there, the Russians had already manoeuvred to starting encircling Lysychansk, threatening to engulf the last corner of Luhansk and bolster their assault on the rest of Donetsk.
The situation in Lysychansk is “absolute hell”, Vitaly said. “For every shell we fire, the Russians fire 20.” The only civilians that remain are those too stubbornly
old, sick or poor to leave despite the exhortations of rescuers. In Kramatorsk, from where what remains of Luhansk and Donetsk are administered, civilians wounded by shelling arrived daily.
At Kramatorsk’s main hospital this week, medics loaded up an emergency truck with bandaged survivors for the journey with International Red Cross escorts to an evacuation train leaving from the town of Pokrovsk.
They including the 11 survivors of the shelling of a communal standpipe in Lysychansk where eight people died fetching water for their cut-off homes.
Tetiana Ignatchenko, a war correspondent who covered most of the previous eight-year low-level separatist conflict in the Donbas, now works for the administration here, helping people to evacuate.
From her vantage point she has a grim overview of battlefield losses, which Ukrainian officials recently estimated at 100 to 200 soldiers a day. “There are no official numbers but we have our own count,” she said. “We see the bodies come through.”
She doubts Lysychansk, and thus Luhansk, can now be saved, leaving the Russians to move on to Donetsk, along the road that runs from the river city on the hill to the rapidly emptying town of Bakhmut, dominated by soldiers on runs from the front line to repair vehicles and pick up food. “Bakhmut is next,” Ignatchenko said. “You can see what is happening, we’ve nearly lost all of Luhansk. Everything depends on what weapons now arrive from the West.”
Vortex, resting in Dnipro preparing for deployment to the next front line, does not regret the doomed defence of Severodonetsk. “We engaged a huge number of Russian forces and it meant they could not be used in another place like the south,” he said.
Ukraine’s conflict is a tale of two fronts; the grinding war in the east where land is slowly ceded to Russia at a high price to both, and the counteroffensive in the south where Ukrainian forces are starting to push back the occupying forces, seeking to break the corridor Russia has established along the coast.
Vitaly, gulping down a shwarma at Bakhmut’s Joker Street Food kiosk, is more circumspect about what lies ahead. He and his men travelled here from Lysychansk by the long road, the parallel route to Bakhmut now under heavy Russian shelling.
Ukrainian artillery pieces thunder along the road all day, firing and being repositioned in a game of cat and mouse to dodge destruction by Russian targeting. “We are already retreating our positions within Lysychansk,” he said. “I do not know if we can hold it.” Himars could help turn the tide if they can take out enough Russian artillery positions but it is still a race against time, he said. “The Russians are shelling harder than ever to try and take the Himars out,” he said. “When we used to get ten missiles, now we get a hundred.”
Further up the long road, Sasha a territorial defence commander, rests with his men at a village south of Siversk. He, too, is keenly watching the battle for Lysychansk. “If it goes, then so does Siversk and so does this road,” he said. Then the capture of the cauldron will be complete and they will fall back further into Donetsk. Zelensky wants the war finished by Christmas and told Nato so at its summit this week, asking for
more support to end the war in what seems to many outside like an optimistically short time frame. “So long?” Sasha said wearily. “I would like it to end now.