Volunteers carry sandbags to fortify Odesa's historic port ahead of a Russian assault that could begin any day.ANTON SKYBA/The Globe and Mail
As the sun set over the beach beside the Odesa Yacht Club, a quartet of men with shovels hurriedly dug at the sand, trying to fill as many burlap sacks as possible before the city’s 7 p.m. curfew. The bulging sandbags were then added to a pile of hundreds in the back of a container truck and driven to the city centre, as residents raced to fortify this historic port ahead of a Russian assault that could begin any day.
Until three weeks ago, Odesa was a place of all-night leisure, famed in Ukraine, Russia and beyond for its comedy clubs, its cafes and its sandy beaches on the Black Sea.
The invasion launched by Russian President Vladimir Putin has changed everything. The comedy clubs are closed. Finding a coffee is a challenge. And the beaches are being converted into sandbag piles that guard everything from Odesa’s main administration building to its 19th-century National Academic Opera and Ballet Theatre – as well as a statue of the city’s founding governor, the Duc de Richelieu, which stands atop its famed Potemkin Stairs.
The Duc is now covered up to his neck in sandbags, with the flag of Odesa poking out defiantly near the top.
A statue of the city’s founding governor, the Duc de Richelieu, is covered in sandbags to protect against potential Russian shellingANTON SKYBA/The Globe and Mail
Near the city’s main pedestrian promenade, a tank was parked this weekend in front of what used to be one of Odesa’s most expensive restaurants. Its barrel was pointed toward the Black Sea, where the Russian navy has amassed an armada that includes at least six large amphibious landing craft that have yet to be sent into action in this 18-day-old war.
Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky warned a week ago that Russia was planning to attack this city of one million people, saying it would be a “war crime” to destroy a place so rich in both Russian and Ukrainian history.
“It’s the historical background that makes it a cultural capital,” said Yelena, a 38-year-old opera singer, referring to centuries during which the city passed from Greek, to Turkish, to Russian, to German, to Soviet rule before Ukraine gained its independence in 1991. Odesa had one of Europe’s largest Jewish populations before the Holocaust, and the city remains a renowned centre of Jewish culture.
“A lot of blood and nationalities met here,” Yelena said. “Every nationality contributed something to Odesa.”
All of that feels at stake right now. “It’s very sad to see the city like this,” she added. She joined an impromptu performance outside the opera house on Saturday afternoon with her husband, Ivan, a choir director. The couple asked that their last names not be used out of concern they could face retribution if Russian forces enter the city.
The anticipated assault hasn’t happened yet, in part because of Ukraine’s fierce defence of Mykolaiv, 130 kilometres to the east, where an unknown number of people have died during a two-week-long battle for the city. Nine people were reportedly killed there on Sunday by air strikes, the latest in a devastating campaign that earlier resulted in the destruction of a cancer hospital and an eye clinic.
On Sunday, Britain’s Defence Ministry said intelligence sources indicated that Russian troops were now “attempting to circumvent Mykolaiv as they look to drive west towards Odesa.” People in Odesa know their city – which Mr. Putin mentioned twice in a vitriolic speech days before the war began – will almost certainly be targeted soon.
Albert Kabakov, the manager of the Odesa Yacht Club, mobilized volunteers to fill sandbags to fortify the port of Odesa.ANTON SKYBA/The Globe and Mail
“We’re not doing this just in case. We have seen what the Russians have done to Kharkiv, Kherson and Mariupol and we know that, if they get the chance, they will do the same to Odesa,” said Albert Kabakov, the manager of the Odesa Yacht Club, as he watched the last truckload of sandbags leave the beach on Saturday evening. “We are grateful to Mykolaiv for giving Odesa a chance to fortify.”
Mr. Kabakov said the sandbag-filling operation began on the third day of the war, when he received a call saying the city needed sand. “In two hours, we had arranged two excavators as well as trucks ready to be loaded up with sand.” About 1,300 volunteers have since signed up to help the operation, which Mr. Kabakov estimates has filled more than 400,000 sandbags.
Peter Obukhov, a city councillor who now manages a volunteer donation centre, said about half of Odesans had left the city since the war began on Feb. 24. The other half seem determined to stay, come what may.
At the city’s famed Bristol Hotel, which survived two world wars and a communist revolution, workers spent the weekend hurriedly boarding up the windows of the 19th-century establishment, where a suite went for $500 a night before the invasion.
Sergey Bardus, head of security at the Bristol, said seeing his city half-deserted and boarded up “makes me hate the people who are forcing us to do this – the Russians.” The muscled 50-year-old said he was planning to make his stand with the hotel. “I will wait for them here and I will fight them here. And we will win, I will not even discuss that.”
Workers spent the weekend hurriedly boarding up the windows of the city's famed Bristol Hotel.ANTON SKYBA/The Globe and Mail
Hanna Shelest, a security analyst who lives in Odesa and advises the Ukrainian navy, said it would be foolhardy for Russian forces to attack the city without first capturing Mykolaiv. An amphibious attack, even supported by paratroopers, would fail unless there was a way to supply the forces overland, she said.
“Without having supply from Crimea, through Kherson and Mykolaiv, I can’t imagine it,” she said, adding that, while Kherson was captured by the Russian military on March 3, resistance continues in the city. “To supply from the sea is the most dangerous thing you can imagine. … So, while Mykolaiv is strong, we are safe.”
Ms. Shelest dismissed worries that the 1,400 Russian troops stationed in the breakaway Trans-Dniester region of neighbouring Moldova could play a significant role in an attack on the city. But, she said, it was clear Russia already had agents and saboteurs in Odesa. Several had been captured since the start of the war, she said – including one who was personally apprehended by her father, whom she described as the burly captain of a merchant ship.
“Ten minutes before curfew, and some guy was trying to make videos of all the buildings with his telephone. When my father questioned him, ‘what are you doing?’ he started to run,” Ms. Shelest recounted. “He was not lucky because my father has extremely quick reactions and a very heavy hand.”
Mr. Obukhov, the city councillor, said Odesa was preparing for all-out defiance in the style Ukrainians have already demonstrated in Kyiv, Kharkiv, Mariupol, Mykolaiv and elsewhere. Each day and week the war goes on without a Ukrainian surrender, he said, raises the costs for Mr. Putin and his regime.
“I’m waiting for when this will end, but I understand this will not happen very soon. We are waiting for one of three things: for Putin to die, the Russian economy to die, or for the Russian army to die. We understand this will take several months,” Mr. Obukhov said.
In addition to its reputation as a nightlife capital, Odesa is famed as a city that’s difficult for a foreign army to subdue. During the Second World War the city held out for 73 days against a joint Romanian and German attack, a battle that cost more than 90,000 Axis soldiers and 40,000 Soviet troops their lives.
Parts of the 2,500-kilometre-long network of catacombs under the city are now being prepared for use once again as shelters. Tour guide Oleksandr Vasylenko says he worries the old tunnels won't withstand the kind of weaponry Russia has used on other Ukrainian cities during the invasion.ANTON SKYBA/The Globe and Mail
After Odesa finally fell, Soviet partisans took to the 2,500-kilometre-long network of catacombs under the city, emerging to conduct hit-and-run attacks. Parts of the catacombs were converted into bomb shelters during the Cold War, though they have since fallen into disuse.
Portions of the urban labyrinth are now being prepared for use once again as shelters. However, tour guide Oleksandr Vasylenko said he was worried that the caves, which were originally dug in the 19th century as residents sought stone to build their homes with, wouldn’t withstand the kind of weaponry Russia has used in its attacks on other cities. Photographs of unexploded ordinance suggest Moscow’s arsenal has included 500-kilogram bombs.
“For 15 minutes this would be nice … but the objective is not just to hide, but to survive,” Mr. Vasylenko said. “Because as we’ve seen in Mariupol, you need food, you need water, you need medicines.” He showed The Globe how the tunnels, which wind dozens of metres underground, had been looted of every last lightbulb and electrical wire over recent decades.
Like others who have remained in Odesa, Mr. Vasylenko said he longed for the return of prewar times, when in high season his company would take as many as 1,000 visitors a day on tours of the catacombs.
Before the Russian invasion began, Odesa was a place of all-night leisure, famed in Ukraine. Now its residents are preparing for the worst.ANTON SKYBA/The Globe and Mail
Such wistfulness is common here as the city braces for the worst. Wandering the centre of Odesa on Sunday, kindergarten teacher Margarita Murashkina stared across Deribasovskaya Street, normally the heart of the city’s entertainment district, but now blocked by dozens of metal tank traps. The restaurants and bars were all quiet, and the school where Ms. Murashkina works has been shut since the first day of the war.
There was neither laughter nor music this weekend in a city famous for both. “We are just waiting for victory, and for this to be over,” Ms. Murashkina said as she watched a black cat climb over a makeshift barricade of cement flower boxes, wooden pallets and metal shelving that blocked access to Deribasovskaya Street. “We just want our city to be back to normal.”
Parts of the 2,500-kilometre-long labyrinth of tunnels under port city in Ukraine are now being prepared for use once again as bomb shelters. The Globe’s Mark MacKinnon visited some of the tunnels, which were originally dug in the 19th century, then converted into bomb shelters during the Cold War and have since have since fallen into disuse.
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