Upon hearing the sirens of the convoy bringing back the Ukrainian prisoners of war, dozens of relatives of missing fighters raise signs with photos of their loved ones, stand on tiptoes, and prepare for the miracle they have been waiting for months.
The luckiest ones will be able to embrace their children, brothers, husbands, sons, and spouses, while another less fortunate group will finally hear from one of the released captives that their family member is alive and waiting to be exchanged after enduring torture and humiliation in Russia.
However, for most, each exchange means a new disappointment and the prolongation of the wait.
"I am waiting for my husband, who disappeared in December 2024. Every time I hear about an exchange, I come to listen for any sign that he is alive in captivity or, even better, if I can see him again here," said Yana Liashenko to EFE with a smile that is both sad and hopeful.
She is one of the many women who travel from all over the country to the Chernihiv region, bordering Belarus, whenever a soldier exchange with Russia is announced.
According to sources from the Ukrainian state body dealing with prisoners of war, authorities avoid communicating the names of the exchanged soldiers to their families until the moment they enter Ukraine, partly due to the psychological torment tactics reported by the Russian side during exchanges.
No prisoner lists in Russia
Relatives of the missing denounce that Russia does not provide Ukraine with any list of the enemy soldiers taken prisoner, and, as Kiev has explained, some of those released on Thursday were fighters whose whereabouts were unknown.
The first group to cross the border with Belarus - where Ukrainian captives are usually returned - arrives in the clinic's courtyard where they will be treated in several ambulances.
"Welcome! Welcome!" they timidly shout at first to those waiting for them as the clinic staff transports them inside in wheelchairs and stretchers.
The initial formality quickly gives way to more effusiveness. "Thank you! Thank you!" is now heard more loudly, until the chorus breaks into spontaneous individual voices that praise the heroism of the returnees and give them bags of sweets or tobacco.
The first cigarette on Ukrainian soil
To enter the hospital, the released soldiers pass by a wall full of photos of missing comrades-in-arms with phone numbers written on them.
The relatives stick them on the wall, clinging to the possibility that one of the returnees will call to say they shared captivity with their parents, children, or husbands.
The exchanged soldiers who can stand wait in the loft that leads to the hospital and examine the photos passed to them by the women below.
"Kursk front area?", "Third assault brigade!" they shout, hoping to hear that one of the wounded shared captivity with fighters captured in that front area or belonging to a specific unit, in case any of them brought proof of life from Russia.
Nine out of ten Ukrainian soldiers returned report having been tortured.
Many return emaciated and aged, in addition to being exhausted and confused by the reality awaiting them at home after months or even years of informational void and constant messages that their country has fallen.
Despite the fatigue and trauma, the released soldiers make another sacrifice and smoke their first cigarette on Ukrainian soil while trying to identify familiar faces in the flood of photographs passed to them by the families of the missing.
With the last released person entering the clinic, the women exhaust their options by handing over their photos and phone numbers to the staff.
Afterwards, when everything is over, they return to their hotels and will print more images for the next exchange tomorrow.