Children of War

The situation in eastern Ukraine where 14-year-old Kamila Horbachova lived was getting increasingly risky. Russian artillery constantly bombarded her home city of Toretsk. First the electricity went out and then the water.

Kamila’s parents, who have essential jobs in mining, couldn’t leave, but by April of last year, they knew they had to get their daughter to safety. So they took Kamila to a nearby train station and put her on a train full of children bound for the relative safety of Lviv, the largest city in western Ukraine.

“I was very worried that we were leaving without our parents, by ourselves,” Kamila says, adding that when she boarded the train alone, “it was horrible for me.”

The situation in eastern Ukraine where 14-year-old Kamila Horbachova lived was becoming riskier. Russian troops constantly attacked her home city of Toretsk. First the electricity went out and then the water.

Kamila’s parents, who have essential jobs in mining, couldn’t leave. By April of last year, they knew they had to get their daughter to safety. So they took Kamila to a nearby train station and put her on a train full of children. The train then set off for the relative safety of Lviv, the largest city in western Ukraine.

“I was very worried that we were leaving without our parents, by ourselves,” Kamila says, adding that when she boarded the train alone, “it was horrible for me.”

When Kamila looked at her phone midway through the trip, she saw the news that the very train station she had stood in the day before had been bombed. Russian forces shelled the station in Kramatorsk on April 8, killing at least 50 people trying to get to western Ukraine. The children had been scheduled to leave at that time, but a last-minute twist of fate had pushed their trip up a day.

“It just happened that we left earlier,” Kamila says, her face drawn. She says that she thanks God daily that they escaped with their lives.

Midway through the trip, Kamila looked at her phone. She saw a news alert that the very train station she had stood in the day before had been bombed. Russian forces shelled the station in Kramatorsk on April 8. The blast killed at least 50 people trying to get to western Ukraine. The children had been scheduled to leave at that time, but a last-minute twist of fate had pushed their trip up a day.

“It just happened that we left earlier,” Kamila says with her face drawn. She says that she thanks God daily that they escaped with their lives.

Kamila’s story echoes those of millions of Ukrainian children. Since Russia invaded in February of 2022 and Ukrainians launched a strong defense, tens of thousands of Ukrainian soldiers and civilians have died (see “Where the War Stands,” below). No victim of war survives without some kind of loss, but experts often say that no one loses as much as children.

“Every one of Ukraine’s 5.7 million children have trauma,” says Murat Sahin, who represents the United Nations children’s agency, UNICEF, in Ukraine. “I wouldn’t say that 10 percent or 50 percent of them are OK. Everyone is experiencing it, and it takes years to heal.”

Kamila’s story echoes those of millions of Ukrainian children. Russia invaded in February of 2022. In response, Ukrainians launched a strong defense. Since then, tens of thousands of Ukrainian soldiers and civilians have died (see “Where the War Stands;” below). No victim of war survives without some kind of loss. Still, experts often say that no one loses as much as children.

“Every one of Ukraine’s 5.7 million children have trauma,” says Murat Sahin, who represents the United Nations children’s agency, UNICEF, in Ukraine. “I wouldn’t say that 10 percent or 50 percent of them are OK. Everyone is experiencing it, and it takes years to heal.”

More than a third of Ukrainian children—2.2 million—have fled their homes, with many of them displaced two or three times when additional territory was lost, according to humanitarian agencies. More than half of Ukraine’s children—3.6 million—may not have a school to go to this year.

With all this upheaval, time is dwindling to prevent a “lost generation”—the term not only for young lives taken but also for the children forced by war to sacrifice their education, passions, and friendships amid the disruptions, or suffer psychological scars too deep to be healed.

Across the country, aid workers and Ukrainian officials are scrambling to repair bombed-out schools and offer children psychological support.

More than a third of Ukrainian children—2.2 million—have fled their homes, according to humanitarian agencies. Many of them were displaced two or three times as more territory was lost. More than half of Ukraine’s children—3.6 million—may not have a school to go to this year.

With all this turmoil, time is running out to prevent a “lost generation.” This term is used to describe the young lives taken. It also describes the children the war has ripped from their education, passions, and friendships, as well as those who suffer emotional scars too deep to be healed.

Across the country, aid workers and Ukrainian officials are scrambling to repair bombed-out schools. They also are offering children support to strengthen their emotional well-being.

“We believe in the resilience of children,” says Ramin Shahzamani, chair of War Child Holland, a group that focuses on support for children in conflict zones. “If you’re able to reach children as soon as possible and help them deal with what they have experienced and what they have seen, then they are able to deal with their emotions.”

That resilience is evident in the way that children have adapted in their daily lives—for example, inventing a game based on the frequent checkpoint stops they encounter when traveling anywhere. They mimic the grim reality they witness.

“We believe in the resilience of children,” says Ramin Shahzamani, chair of War Child Holland, a group that focuses on support for children in conflict zones. “If you’re able to reach children as soon as possible and help them deal with what they have experienced and what they have seen, then they are able to deal with their emotions.”

That resilience can be seen in the way that children have adapted in their daily lives. For example, some have invented a game based on the frequent checkpoint stops they encounter when traveling anywhere. They mimic the grim reality they witness.

Even so, they must deal with unhealed psychological trauma. And the effects are not only mental but also physical.

Children exposed to war are at risk of “toxic stress,” a condition triggered by extreme periods of adversity, says Sonia Khush, the Ukraine director of Save the Children, a humanitarian aid group. The effects are so powerful that they can alter brain structures and organ systems, lasting long into children’s adult lives.

Many children have also suffered serious wounds. The destructive power of modern weapons can leave children with complex injuries that require amputation and long rehabilitations. After an attack on her home in Kherson last May, Maryna Ponomariova, 6, is relearning to walk. Most of her left leg had to be amputated because of shrapnel wounds.

Even though Maryna has approached her recovery with a positive attitude, the ongoing bombings in Kyiv where she’s being treated have been hard for her.

“The psychologist has been working with her, but then it was all reversed again,” her mother says of a recent attack that upset Maryna. “She was screaming that morning.”

Education is critical to psychological support, Khush says. Schools provide children with social networks among peers, guidance from teachers, and a routine that can provide a sense of normalcy amid pervasive uncertainty.

Even so, they must deal with unhealed mental trauma. And the effects are also physical.

Children exposed to war are at risk of “toxic stress,” a condition triggered by extreme periods of chaos, says Sonia Khush, the Ukraine director of Save the Children, a humanitarian aid group.

The effects are so powerful that they can alter brain structures and organ systems. These changes can last long into children’s adult lives.

Many children have also suffered serious wounds. Modern weapons have the power to cause significant harm. They can leave children with complex injuries. Many of these injuries require limbs to be cut off and long periods of rehabilitation. After an attack on her home in Kherson last May, Maryna Ponomariova, 6, is relearning to walk. Most of her left leg had to be removed because of wounds caused by metal fragments from an explosion.

Maryna has approached her recovery with a positive attitude. But the ongoing bombings in Kyiv, where she’s being treated, have been hard for her.

“The psychologist has been working with her, but then it was all reversed again,” her mother says of a recent attack that upset Maryna. “She was screaming that morning.”

Education is critical to mental health and well-being, Khush says. Schools provide children with social networks among peers and guidance from teachers. They also give children a routine that can help things feel normal during periods of ongoing uncertainty.

But education isn’t easy during war. At least 221 of Ukraine’s approximately 17,000 schools have been destroyed and more than 2,000 have been damaged by war, according to U.N. statistics. Another 3,500 have been used to shelter or assist the 6.2 million Ukrainians who have fled to safer parts of the country.

The social destruction is even harder to repair. The war has ripped thousands of families apart, as brothers and fathers have been drafted or killed, and children forced to flee, leaving grandparents and friends behind. Aid workers have noticed a growing problem of nightmares and aggressive behavior in young children.

Children separated from their parents “are among the most vulnerable of the vulnerable,” says Joe English, a communications specialist from UNICEF.

“The psychosocial impact the war is having on children is staggering, and it is often parents and caregivers who are the first responders in terms of identifying and responding to children’s suffering,” he says. Unaccompanied children “do not have that basic comfort of parental care,” he adds.

But education isn’t easy during war. There are approximately 17,000 schools in Ukraine. At least 221 of them have been destroyed and more than 2,000 have been damaged by war, according to U.N. statistics. Another 3,500 have been used to shelter or assist the 6.2 million Ukrainians who have fled to safer parts of the country.

The social destruction is even harder to repair. The war has ripped thousands of families apart. Brothers and fathers have been drafted or killed. And children have been forced to flee, leaving their grandparents and friends behind. Aid workers have noticed a growing problem of nightmares and hostile behavior in young children.

Children separated from their parents “are among the most vulnerable of the vulnerable,” says Joe English, a communications specialist from UNICEF.

“The psychosocial impact the war is having on children is staggering, and it is often parents and caregivers who are the first responders in terms of identifying and responding to children’s suffering,” he says. Unaccompanied children “do not have that basic comfort of parental care,” he adds.

One of the major unknowns of the war is the number of children orphaned or separated from their parents. Russian officials have also forcibly deported tens of thousands of Ukrainians from occupied territories into Russia, according to Ukrainian officials. Many are believed to be children separated from their parents.

Fearing for children’s welfare, some groups are trying to help. Ukrainian activists are using clandestine networks inside Russian-held territory to try to get information on those children—and, if possible, bring them back.

One of the major unknowns of the war is the number of children orphaned or separated from their parents. Russian officials have also forcibly deported tens of thousands of Ukrainians from occupied territories into Russia, according to Ukrainian officials. Many are believed to be children separated from their parents.

Fearing for children’s welfare, some groups are trying to help. Ukrainian activists are using underground networks inside Russian-held territory to get information on those children. If it’s possible, they hope to bring the children back.

There is hope for orphans too. A new effort led by the Ukrainian government and UNICEF has encouraged about 21,000 families to register as foster families. Already, 1,000 of them are trained and taking children in.

Kamila, the 14-year-old from eastern Ukraine, is now living in a former boarding school in Lviv that serves as a refuge for children from Toretsk. The 20 children there, who range from toddlers to teens, are navigating a strange new reality: They go to school and have movie nights, reclaiming something of a normal childhood, even as they frantically call their parents daily to make sure they’re still alive.

There is hope for orphans too. A new effort led by the Ukrainian government and UNICEF has encouraged about 21,000 families to register as foster families. Already, 1,000 of them are trained and taking children in.

Kamila, the 14-year-old from eastern Ukraine, is now living in a former boarding school in Lviv. It serves as a refuge for children from Toretsk. The 20 children there range from toddlers to teens. Each of them is navigating a strange new reality. They go to school and have movie nights. Doing so has helped them reclaim something of a normal childhood. But they continue to call their parents daily to make sure they’re still alive.

There are other challenges, including language. In Toretsk, Russian is the main language. (An estimated 1 in 3 Ukrainians speak Russian at home, including many from the country’s east, as a result of centuries of Russian dominance there, according to researchers.) At the boarding school, the children learn in Ukrainian.

The teachers say the children have adjusted to the changes. They play soccer in the small field outside and take field trips to the zoo. On a recent evening, the children curled up on beanbags and snuggled next to each other as they watched the animated movie Inside Out in Ukrainian on a large screen.

While grateful for their current refuge, they long for a true return to normal.

“It was just a miracle that we were saved,” says Anna Palova, 15. “I just want this war to be finished and return home to my parents.”

There are other challenges, including language. In Toretsk, Russian is the main language. (An estimated 1 in 3 Ukrainians speak Russian at home, including many from the country’s east. This is a result of centuries of Russian influence there, according to researchers.) At the boarding school, the children learn in Ukrainian.

The teachers say the children have adjusted to the changes. They play soccer on the small field outside and take field trips to the zoo. On a recent evening, the children curled up on beanbags and snuggled next to each other as they watched the animated movie Inside Out in Ukrainian on a large screen.

While they’re grateful to be safe and cared for, they long for a true return to normal.

“It was just a miracle that we were saved,” says Anna Palova, 15. “I just want this war to be finished and return home to my parents.”

Erika Solomon and Megan Specia cover Europe for The New York Times.

Erika Solomon and Megan Specia cover Europe for The New York Times.