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A Slight Delay Due to Ballistic Missiles: The Reality of Ukrainian Railways

In most countries, a delayed train is an excuse to huff loudly, sip coffee, and compose a strongly worded tweet at the local train operator. In Ukraine, a delayed train is just another day at the office—assuming your office is occasionally targeted by ballistic missiles.

This week has been a particularly grim demonstration of what it takes to keep a country moving while a hostile neighbour insists on using your transport infrastructure for target practice. Ukrzaliznytsia, the state railway, has endured one of its most painful weeks since the full-scale invasion began.

The Statistics of Survival

To put the sheer scale of the Russian bombardment into perspective: in just five days, the railway has been attacked 41 times.

If the British rail service has a bit of snow or hot weather, the network grinds to a halt for a fortnight. Ukrzaliznytsia had 11 locomotives severely damaged in under a week, and they are still running. Over these five days, railway crews have had to evacuate passengers from trains 350 times. It is a staggering number, but the primary objective remains unchanged: get people away from the tracks, the stations, and the carriages before the missiles arrive.

Unfortunately, not everyone made it to safety.

The Human Cost

This week, the railway lost six of its own workers. Three of these individuals rushed out to restore traffic following a drone strike. Once the initial air raid alarm had cleared, the enemy targeted the exact same location with deadly ballistic missiles—a horrific ‘double tap’ tactic designed specifically to kill first responders and repair crews.

On the 5th of August, an overnight Russian strike targeted logistical warehouses in the Brovary district of the Kyiv region. Eight people lost their lives on the Kvitneva station platform, simply because their train had been delayed and they were waiting to go home.

A day later, a Russian drone struck the railway station in Lozova, in the Kharkiv region, killing two railway workers and injuring eight other people. Located near the front-line Donetsk region, Lozova is a crucial logistical hub for soldiers, volunteers, and evacuated civilians.

Across the network, 17 railway colleagues were injured this week. The railway family is famously tight-knit, and those who escaped the blasts are now waiting by hospital beds, ensuring their colleagues get the care they need.

The Silent Stations

Despite being one of the enemy’s top strategic priorities, Ukrzaliznytsia continues to function. Railway workers turn up for their shifts knowing exactly what the risks are. After every attack, the crews are out there replacing shredded tracks, restoring destroyed infrastructure, and dragging damaged rolling stock back into service.

They do this with such terrifying efficiency that the true scale of the attacks is often invisible to the wider public. The tracks are cleared, the craters are filled, and the trains roll on. The freight keeps moving, and the passengers keep travelling.

But there is a cost that cannot simply be welded back together or filled with fresh ballast.

For the past three days, the usual music played across Ukrzaliznytsia stations has been turned off. The state flags fly at half-mast. It is a quiet, stoic tribute to the colleagues and passengers who didn’t finish their journeys this week.

Next time you see a train rolling past, whether in Kyiv or elsewhere, take a moment to consider the sheer bloody-minded resilience it takes to keep Ukraine moving. It isn’t just diesel and electricity powering those locomotives; it’s sheer, unyielding defiance.


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They call them "Forbidden Zones" - places the world has turned its back on. For me, they are home. I've spent my life behind the lens, chasing the stories that exist on the edge of the map. From a decade spent embedded in the heart of Ukraine - navigating both the silent decay of Chernobyl and the frontlines of war - to the restricted borders of North Korea and the radioactive remains of Fukushima, I documents what remains when the headlines fade. With a background in journalistic photography and a raw, unflinching style, my work explores the intersection of human resilience and environmental ruin. My photography has been featured globally, offering a rare window into the zones the world was never meant to see again.

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