‘I Went To Ukraine’s Frontline To Witness Our Life-Saving ICU On Wheels,’ Maltese NGO Worker
The bullet proof vest was heavy but strangely comfortable. Vitaliy, who manages security and logistics at MOAS’ bases in east Ukraine, made sure it was snuggly put on immediately after the call came in for the patient extraction. It was my turn to accompany the ambulance and Vitaliy took my safety and those of the other four MOAS staff visiting from our headquarters in Malta very seriously.
He waved with a smile as I climbed into the modified Land Cruiser which would be my office for the rest of the day. The Guardian newspaper had aptly named MOAS’ ambulances an ‘ICU on wheels’. Having been in one myself, it became immediately evident why. Space at the back of the vehicle is designed to perfection. Medical monitors, respirators, infusers and a plethora of medical and pharmaceutical equipment line one side of the cabin, while seating for the doctor and paramedic line the other. The middle is occupied by a stretcher.
No time is wasted to get to the collection point. We cruised down the mostly empty highways at an average 140km an hour. Traffic was non-existent. We only saw military vehicles on the road. But the speed was necessary because there was a long way to go and people’s lives were at stake. Oleg, our driver, handled the roads with ease. There were military checkpoints at every entry and exit from the highway into the cities but we got through quickly as thankful hand greetings were exchanged between the driver and the guards.
There are currently over 50 MOAS emergency vehicles conducting specialised medical extractions and the site of our MOAS ambulances have become a common site over the years. As we left the countryside and the urban sprawl started to unfold before us, our siren started blaring. Cars obediently parted to the sides as we rushed through traffic lights. From the windows I could see the occasional signs of devastation wrought by rockets – pocked structures, almost as if some giant monster had taken a large bite out of these buildings.
We slowed down as we turned into the driveway of an unassuming yet somewhat ornate mid-century clay brick building. This was the closest we would get to the front line. I was told that we were less than 20 kilometres away from the worst of the fighting, which is more or less the distance from Sliema to Mellieħa.
You wouldn’t know it just by looking at it because there is no signage, but this was none other than a field hospital, which is the first line of medical care to those injured by the war. The bare exterior hid the intense hustle of triaged treatment taking place inside.
The patient, a soldier, was quickly rolled out, eyes taped shut, head bandaged and almost completely covered by a blanket save one arm from which metal pins protruded. It is likely that his injuries were suffered from artillery fire or a landmine. He was intubated by Andrii, our doctor. The monitors beeped to life as they displayed the patient’s vitals while the intravenous drip bags were checked by Artem, our paramedic. The whole process was efficiently concluded within minutes, and we rolled out for our long commute to the specialised hospital where he would be given further treatment.
The MOAS Malta HQ team was informed in mid-May that we would be conducting a field visit to Ukraine, which currently hosts our biggest project. We were there to physically monitor and evaluate the work conducted and to experience first-hand what we’ve been distantly working on for the last two years. Through relentless dedication, perseverance and persistence, the mission has grown from one person on the ground (our founder Christopher Catrambone) in early 2022, to a staff of circa 150 Ukrainian professionals. To date, we have transported over 45,000 critical patients in our ambulances, amounting to over 70% of the most severe cases nationally.
I joined MOAS in early 2023 and was already an admirer of the tremendous search and rescue efforts the organisation had conducted in the Mediterranean and the Aegean Seas from 2014 to 2017, saving over 40,000 people. Working for a global humanitarian NGO can take many forms, and there is truly something rewarding towards lending one’s time and skills to the amelioration of marginalised communities and the alleviation of suffering.
After a year of working from the office, collating project data, and organising fundraising activities locally, I was thrilled (and slightly scared) that I would finally be given the chance to meet my colleagues in the field. It was almost faith that days before the team was supposed to depart, I found myself listening, live, to Ukrainian folktronica band Go_A. As I stood in front of the stage at Earth Garden, the lead singer paid tribute to her people, whose defenders have been fighting off the Russian invading force. She also referred to the fact that as a result, reaching Malta now took at least 24 hours, when it took just four hours before. My team and I experienced this artificial lengthening of proximity firsthand.
We consume war through the flashing images on a screen, or perhaps a history book reporting on the damage and loss of life experienced in faraway lands. But being given the opportunity to visit Ukraine during its invasion takes away this shroud of impersonal distance. When you meet face to face with the people whose lives have been radically altered as a result of the unbridled pursuit of power and domination, this perspective rapidly shifts. Ukraine is a reminder that although Europe has gotten comfortable with its prolonged period of peace, regressing to our continent’s history of violent war is not as improbable as one might think. There should be gratitude for this bastion holding off an aggressor whom we are pleased is not at our door.
Five hours later, as the first signs of dusk started to show, I was told that we were approaching the hospital for patient drop-off. Five hours of non-stop laser-guided precision by the staff focused on getting this complete stranger laid out on a stretcher to where he needed to be.
It’s no surprise that the mileage these vehicles can rake up approximates 150,000 kilometres annually. Although the journey did at times seem frightening, with spikey anti-tank barricades obstructing roads or dark storm clouds restricting visibility of the path ahead, there were also instances of clear blue skies and views of endless fields of golden wheat stretching to the horizon. Perhaps this was a reminder that even in the grimmest of times, there is still beauty and hope.