What’s old is new again, and it’s not pretty
After spending more than a month in Ukraine documenting the war earlier this year, Marcus Yam is back in the eastern part of the country where fighting remains fierce and residents continue to endure with no end in sight.
While taking time off from covering the conflict, Yam won the Pulitzer Prize for breaking news photography for his “raw and urgent images of the U.S. departure from Afghanistan that capture the human cost of the historic change in the country.”
He’s now back in Ukraine to document the conflict and its human toll.
Day 111: The fire crackles beyond the curtain.
White body bags liter a mass grave.
Fragments from munitions laid out across a white veil.
Behind it, a pummeled home. A gentle reminder of a vicious cycle.
Day 110: The road to Lysychansk is under attack.
A woman emerges. Her hair and hands covered in dust. Smoke rises from the rubble. She weeps.
A dark sky looms over an obliterated police station. Nowhere is safe.
The battle ahead, beyond the broken glass.
Day 109: Civilians evacuate from Lysychansk.
Volunteers risk their lives to bring many out. A woman clasps her hands together.
Sun scorches the road. Expressions carry more than the weight of exhaustion.
A child sits on the floor, a front row view.
Day 108: Lysychansk, Ukraine
A tireless duel of bombardment destroying Lysychansk. Residents await help, scour for food & water.
Journalists run for cover. Rockets hit, engulfing with smoke & dust.
The city is withering.
“We’re praying to God this ends. It’s so scary. We never thought this war would happen,” Antonyna Samsonyuk said in tears
Day 106: Lysychansk, Ukraine
Dogs of war.
These puppies did not flinch at the sound of artillery. They made no noise. Mother is nowhere to found.
They sat quietly, unaware of their surroundings. They huddled together under an old trailer to play.
Rockets overhead. We went inside a building. Leaned into a dark room.
I inadvertently set off a booby trap. A fuse is lit. A moment of reckoning. A buddy next to me takes a knee.
A loud explosion. Alive. It was only a stun grenade. Fortunately. Learned a valuable lesson.
Day 102: The path to Lysychansk.
People under the belly of a water truck. They have lived without water or electricity.
Liubov shrugs as she chops wood to cook. She invites help.
A school burns in Lysychansk. Fighter jets roar above, then ‘boom.’
Machine gun fire rattles down the road. The voices of men screaming instructions echo.
A woman sobs. ‘I cannot live like this anymore. Nobody knows when this is going to end.’
Day 101: Kilometers from the Russians, soldiers stay alert.
Locals surface for fresh air. One-hundred days of fear.
More dark days to come.
Day 99: The cadence of war.
Russia is laying down a barrage. Civilians ask, ‘When will this end?’
Day 98: Slovyansk has a front row seat to Russian invasion.
Vitaliy’s wife was killed in an attack. He grieves. Next door, a room splashed red.
A night gone wrong.
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