My name is Robert Brooks, I'm a Cable World News (CWN.net) reporter assigned to reporting the war in Ukraine. I've been here, off and on, since the beginning of the war on February 24, 2022. I'm here because of my facility with language--still learning. I have a loft in the Bronx, but am rarely there. Working out of Berlin for these assignments. Have been assigned overseas for the past 20 years doing stories, mostly in war zones, with too many close calls to believe. But this is not my story. It's the story of a refugee. One I'm very close to.

After following the Ukrainian war in country since last March, the news desk sent me resources by wire to go to Kherson and be the first to get eyewitness stories from those liberated there. I had just arrived when shelling from offshore Russian ships forced me underground. It was just me with my high tech equipment in a pack on my back so that I could easily talk to people without huge cameras and camera people around drawing crowds and distraction. I pioneered the process enabling me to get candid stories more easily.

So here I was, following the crowds into a World War II era shelter. It wasn't crowded because there were other, less nasty, places where the residents could go. As we heard the shells strike nearby in the city, I looked around to see who was there with me.

Not far away amid a group of women, was a woman who stood out. She had that Nordic look of the Vikings who had invaded and left their mark permanently on the people of this region a thousand years ago. She was taller and more regal, naturally blonde with hair that seemed to fall into place beautifully. High cheekbones and a turned up nose that wasn't aloof even though her clothing suggested it.

She was wearing a full-length coat with a hood that was off to one side. The coat appeared to be beige cashmere and much richer than the other women's warm padded and colorful jackets around her. I needed to talk to her. But before I moved in that direction, I saw a young man approach her and talk to her briefly. I saw her open her coat a bit and I saw the man suddenly turn and run away. That was strange. All the more reason to talk to her and get her story. My first in a city of stories.

I approached slowly past the others waiting for the shelling to be over and arrived in front of her with her eyeing me as I did. She seemed to want to smile, but had a forlorn look on her face that belied her beauty, evermore obvious the closer I got. Still, she seemed to encourage me to say something.

"Hello," I spoke to her in Ukrainian with my bad accent. "My name is Robert Brooks. I'm a reporter from Cable World News covering the war. Would you mind talking to me? You can call me Bob, for short."

She answered in broken English. "Okay Bob, but it's a long story and like so many others here." She waved her hand around above the crowd. "You may find mine too shocking to report." Her beautiful eyes betraying her pain.

Who was this beautiful, intriguing woman, anyway? I knew then I had to know.

"Try me. Why did that young man who just talked to you, turn away and run?"

Her piercing blue eyes narrowed and she opened her coat a bit for me. She was naked under the coat but terribly disfigured with obvious cuts from a knife including the loss of her right nipple and scarring all the way down to her blonde hair down there where the bright redness of the scarring was still vividly evident.

I was shocked, but had seen worse. She closed her coat quickly, and then, looked at me, almost with pleading eyes, obviously needing help. I didn't run like the young man. I had to know more.

"That was terrible!" I whispered close to her ear. "I understand why that man ran now. Who would do this to you and why? I've got to get your story. Can you tell me? I'll listen. That's what I do. I listen to people's stories. Stories of people hurt like you."

She nodded her head, yes, and I followed her deeper into the tunnel where it got so dark no one wanted to be there except us. I guess better because what she had to tell me she didn't want others to hear.

I pulled out my camera recorder with a full charge and signaled for her to begin speaking. The camera and sound recording, I told her, would be confidential if she wanted. She shook her head, no.

"No, people have to know how bad it is. I've been waiting at the train station nearby to take the train to Poland or Germany. I was hoping that some man going that way would take me with him, even marry me, but as you can see, I'm so badly damaged no man will want me now."

Her tears began flowing freely and I produced some of the tissues I carried in a pocket for fending off the cold dampness of the climate on my growing red, bulbous nose prone to leaking a bit.

As she wiped her eyes dry again I asked, "What is your name and where did you learn English? I understand you well." 

"My name is Veronika Kovalenko. I worked for a travel agency here in the city. We had many tourists come through our agency both from Ukraine and all over the world. I had to understand English in order to speak to most of the customers."

Her eyes lit up a bit as though she liked talking to me. Was even interested in me. I sensed it. Resisted it to stay neutral, but there is something about women this beautiful that scares the average man and me. Never really feeling good enough to get too close. Not liking rejection. I had to remain professional and objective. But it was difficult with this woman, so close

I could feel her warmth.

"Are you…Ahh… were you married?"

"I was… We came from a small town 50 km north of here. Marko and I fell in love in high school. He joined the Army because there were Russian insurgents in the area that were threatening us way back then, ten years ago. He rose in rank to Lieutenant, leading commandos on raids into secessionist group strongholds. It was scary but he loved it. 'For our freedom,' he always said. But he worried me every time he left that he wouldn't come back.

"When our town was overrun by tanks last March, I was seven months pregnant and he decided to protect me by asking me to drive to Kiev or to Poland with our automobile. I'll never forget what he told me when I left.

 "'I'm going underground right here to help save our people. I'll see you when this is all over.'

"He looked me in the eyes, we kissed and hugged one last time, and I drove off not knowing if I would make it or not to safety or danger ahead. I was just one of so many wives and children that had to leave ahead of the Russians' arrival."

She began to cry again profusely and came to me. So I held her close feeling the warmth of her body and let her cry on my shoulder until she stopped and looked up at me with those beautiful pleading eyes once more.

"What happened? Did something happen to him?"

"About a week ago, some of our townspeople were in the hospital. I asked them about Marco. They told me that when the Russians came, they quickly realized who he was. They took him into the town square and made everyone watch while they called him a Nazi, slapped him and spit in his face. All the while, spewing other nasty unspeakable names. They cut off his penis first, and then, his balls until he begged to die. And then, they cut off his head dramatically with a sword in front of everyone.

So shocked by the horror before them townspeople quickly gave up the names of innocent people to save themselves. It was a brutal warning to everyone watching what would happen if they tried to resist. The Russians then sought out our families and massacred them, too! I have no one left! I'm alone in this terrible world!"

Veronika's tears flowed again as she uttered a number of epithets against the Russians who she obviously detested so much. Once again, I held her until she calmed down.

"What a terrible thing to learn about your husband and families. I can see why you want to get away. Far away from the Russians as you can. But you have a terrible story, too, don't you? I've heard so much from you already. I can wait if you can't tell me now."

"I must tell you. What happened to me should never happen to anyone. I want you to report how terrible the Russians are.  They should not be let go from the horrors that they inflicted on me, my family and my country, but should be punished to the fullest that civilized law allows!"

"We've got lots of time here before the all clear. My batteries are full. I can get both video and audio. Where do you want to start?"

For Veronika's story, read Part 2…