‘No one will care about the cost’ Kursk region refugees fear a push by Moscow to retake Sudzha by May 9 could bring a wave of civilian deaths for those left behind
On February 1, a missile strike destroyed a boarding school in Sudzha, the largest city in the part of Russia’s Kursk region occupied by Ukrainian troops. Since the start of Ukraine’s cross-border offensive in August 2024, the school had served as a civilian shelter and aid distribution center. Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky accused Russian forces of carrying out the strike, while Russia’s Defense Ministry claimed Ukrainian troops were responsible. Volunteers estimate that more than 2,000 civilians remain in the occupied town. Novaya Gazeta Europe spoke with relatives of those who had been living at the boarding school. They shared what they knew about the fate of its residents and the school’s role in Sudzha over the past several months — and voiced fears that Russia’s efforts to retake the city could result in further civilian casualties. Meduza shares an abridged translation of the report.
Masha’s parents, Sergey and Natalia, were among those living in the basement of the Sudzha boarding school destroyed by a missile strike in early February. Sergey helped keep the facility clean and maintained its wood-burning stoves, while Natalia, who had medical training, administered doctor-prescribed injections and distributed medication to the residents.
In November, when a group of civilians was evacuated through Ukraine’s Sumy, one of the departing women took with her a letter from Natalia to her daughter:
Masha, my dear, I’m sorry we didn’t listen to you, that we didn’t leave with you and ended up in this nightmare. But please don’t worry. Stay strong. We’re doing fine. The room is warm — Dad keeps the stoves going, I give injections to those who need them and give out medicine as prescribed by the doctors. I love you. The doctors come regularly. Doctors from Sumy visit and oversee everything. They bring medicine too.
The woman sent Masha a photo of her mother’s letter on WhatsApp. She reads it over and over, tracing the familiar handwriting.
Sofia is another former Sudzha resident whose parents chose to stay behind.
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“When the evacuation happened, my parents could have left,” Sofia said. “But my mom wouldn’t abandon my brother; all his documents had burned in his car, and they were only evacuating people with proper paperwork.”
In November 2024, Ukraine evacuated 46 Sudzha residents through its own territory, transferring them first to Belarus and then to Russia. The complex route was necessary because neither side could agree on a ceasefire or a direct humanitarian corridor. As a result, evacuees traveled from Sudzha to Sumy, then to Belarus, before finally returning to Russia. Many were afraid to go into the unknown, so only a small group took the trip.
Yelena, another refugee now living outside of the region’s occupied territory, said her parents are unlikely to ever leave through Ukraine.
“They’re in their seventies, they watch TV, and they trust our government,” she explained. “They probably wouldn’t trust the Ukrainians. I don’t even know if I should ask them to reach out because, first of all, I don’t want too much contact between them and the Ukrainians — someone might take their frustration out on them. My parents could end up in danger. And second, if I invite military personnel into their home, they might see it as me bringing the enemy to their doorstep.”
Since November, evacuation has no longer been an option — constant drone strikes have made the roads impassable, even for volunteers.
Yelena last spoke to her parents in August. After the occupation began, she lost all contact — she hasn’t even seen a notification that they’ve been online. On August 6, when heavy shelling began, she wanted to go and get them out, but her husband convinced her not to drive into a war zone in their small car.
She desperately wants to find out what happened to them but has no idea how to do so safely. However, she did manage to reach an activist who had traveled from Ukraine to Sudzha. He told her that her parents are alive.
‘Their plan was impossible’
In the days leading up to the boarding school strike, shelling in Sudzha intensified. Explosions rattled the streets around the school, forcing residents to take cover. On January 31, some relatives managed to reach people inside through Ukrainian contacts:
They [the Sudzha residents] said January 31 was the most terrifying day they had ever experienced there. It felt like fire was coming from all directions — explosions were constant, buildings were being destroyed. They were so scared that they seriously considered waving white cloths and walking toward the border on foot. They just wanted to get out, to somehow reach Sumy and evacuate.
But those who spoke to Novaya Gazeta said they knew the plan was futile. Even if they avoided the crossfire, many of those trapped in the town were elderly or physically unable to walk the distance.
“There were seniors, bedridden people, disabled people who couldn’t have made it two kilometers. Their plan was impossible, though their desperation was understandable — they were terrified and didn’t believe they would survive there,” one source said.
The plan to walk to the border never materialized. The next day, on February 1, a missile strike destroyed the boarding school. Sofia recounted what her parents told her:
They had just finished eating and gone down to the basement when suddenly the entire ceiling behind them — whole sections of it — blew apart. Everything caught fire, flames buried everything.
The school was in flames. The main entrance to the shelter was blocked, leaving no way out. Smoke and dust filled the air, choking the survivors — many of whom were elderly or in poor health.
Sergey and Natalia, Masha’s parents, were among those in the basement. Masha recalls that her mother had just been getting ready for bed when the explosion hit. Instinctively, she pulled a blanket over herself. A brick struck her father, but as he put it, “I’ll live.”
About 10 minutes later, according to Maria’s parents, Ukrainian soldiers led them out through a side exit of the shelter and took them to a nearby church. From there, Ukrainian forces began evacuating Sudzha residents to Sumy.
To this day, it remains unclear exactly who was inside the school when the missile struck. Families are left with unresolved questions: “Was this person there at that moment? Were they inside the school?”
In response, relatives have organized their own search efforts, creating chat groups to share any information they manage to obtain from either Ukrainian or Russian authorities. Their primary focus is finding those who remain in occupied territory. Volunteers are compiling lists of the people still in Sudzha. By their count, 2,938 people remain in the Sudzha district, with 550 missing within the town itself. One coordinator told Novaya Gazeta that among those listed are about 48 children, including several infants. Some women even gave birth after Ukrainian forces took control of the town; one mother was taken to a maternity hospital in Sumy.
But these figures come from independent volunteer efforts. Russian Human Rights Commissioner Tatyana Moskalkova initially released an official list containing just 517 names. Only recently did authorities acknowledge that more than 2,000 people remain in the area.
“Beyond Sudzha itself, many people are still in surrounding villages and settlements. The Ukrainians try to deliver aid — rations, water, bread — whatever they can. Now I truly understand the saying that ‘bread is life.’ I’ll never throw away even a crumb again. Because every time I sit down to eat, I wonder — did my parents eat today? What did they have? And I know the other Sudzha residents feel the same,” said Maria, whose parents were in the school but have since been evacuated.
‘Street fighting will break out’
According to Russian volunteers searching for those still in Sudzha, people from the boarding school are now being transported to Russia via Sumy and Belarus. More than 105 people have already been evacuated to Ukraine, most of them former residents of the school and people from nearby homes.
Once in Russia, they will undergo questioning by the FSB and be required to sign nondisclosure agreements, according to a source who has spoken with evacuees from a previous group. However, one volunteer who spoke to Novaya Gazeta disputed this:
In Russia, returnees usually meet with a psychologist first, they’re given food and rest. I’m sure the authorities do speak with them, but I’ve never heard of anyone being held for long. Families with children, for example, were almost immediately reunited with their relatives. People working on search efforts have reached out to them to gather any information about those still in Sudzha. And sometimes I get the feeling that the investigators don’t even question them at all.
Sofia, however, is worried about what she calls “the aftermath.” She fears that evacuees won’t receive proper medical care and that the stress could trigger heart attacks, strokes, or other serious conditions.
Yelena’s concerns run even deeper:
When you see footage of so-called liberated areas, you realize everything is burned to the ground. That’s why we’re terrified for our loved ones. If Sudzha and the surrounding areas come under assault, there might be nothing left, depending on what weapons are used.
Now, she’s anxiously awaiting May 9 — Victory Day — a date the Russian authorities may choose to coincide with retaking Sudzha. Yelena fears that this “liberation” could come at the cost of hundreds of civilian lives, including her parents’.
“Once the battle for Sudzha begins, street fighting will break out, and at that point, no one will care about the cost,” another source said, echoing widespread fears among residents.
“There are people who have been living in basements for six months,” said Maria. “More than 2,000 of them. And they’re still fighting to survive. They want to live. And we need them. No one is a stranger — they’re all our own. I don’t care about certificates or compensation. I’d give it all up in a heartbeat. I just want my parents here with me. I will never let them go again. Not even for a second.”
