For several miles, the arrow-straight road on which we are travelling has been empty of other traffic. Eerily so, even for areas such as this, directly behind the front line.
Only the regular thump of artillery fire and a steeple of smoke rising from the utterly destroyed but still contested town of Maryinka — beyond the fields to our left — remind us we are not alone.
Then, suddenly, the reason for this strange absence is made clear. We are approaching the speck-on-the-map village of Velyka Novosilka when our way ahead becomes obscured by clouds of white smoke, streaked through with nicotine yellow. This is not seasonal stubble burning — but the immediate aftermath of a Russian heavy mortar barrage.
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