Seventeen-year-old Anastasiia Ryvbalchenko has also skilled a slender escape.
She and her fellow passengers were compelled to go away their practice at 4am, towards the finish of a long of a journey from Odesa to Kirovohrad on 16 September.
“On my way to Odesa, there had been a lot of evacuations and now on my way back it was happening again,” she says. “I was already thinking that if there was another evacuation, I just couldn’t take it any more.”
An hour and a half later, as passengers waited in the darkish, a drone struck close by.
“There was an extremely loud explosion and everyone started running into the woods,” she said.
It is not clear what the goal was, and in this case the practice was not broken, but with further explosions lighting up the evening sky, Anastasiia determined not to linger, persevering with her journey on foot before being picked up by her mother and father.
“I’m not going to travel by train anymore,” she says.
Anastassia’s journey was more dramatic than most, but delays – some transient, others that last for hours – are now commonplace.
Since Russian drones first began attacking transferring passenger trains towards the finish of 2025, the routine for passengers has become more and more acquainted: go away the practice, scroll Telegram channels for updates on drone and missile launches, ship messages to warn mates and household that the practice is delayed.
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