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Postal workers risk Russian shelling to keep Kyiv’s most isolated neighborhoods supplied

Ukraine's postal workers risk death daily delivering pensions, food, and medicine to citizens under relentless Russian bombardment.

By mitch·4 min read
A Ukrainian postmistress stands beside her armored van amid ruins, serving elderly villagers with cash and medicine.

Every morning Igor Smelyansky looks at a map of Ukraine and decides who gets sent into danger. He is the head of Ukrposhta, Ukraine’s state postal service, and his job is not military strategy. It is logistics in a war zone.

His aides feed him live intelligence on Russian attacks. Smelyansky balances potential success against risk to life or limb. If it is too dangerous to go today, he tells his teams, they will go tomorrow or somewhere else. The key is agility.

Smelyansky’s Daily Calculus

“If it’s too dangerous to go today, we won’t go.”

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Ukrposhta does more than letters and parcels. It pays out pensions in hard cash, collects utility bills, and delivers food and medicine to people on the margins of society. In a vast rural nation wracked by war, the service holds the country together.

The Target on Ukrposhta

That has made it a target. Russia has stepped up attacks on post offices, sorting offices and logistical hubs. The Kremlin claims strikes are retaliation for Ukrainian attacks on Russian online retailers like Wildberries. Smelyansky says the targeting is deliberate, not accidental.

“It’s not an accident, it’s deliberate,” he said. “By attacking Ukrposhta, you put pressure on people⦠who are depending on the truck coming in.” Russia denies targeting civilians.

Since 2022, hundreds of Ukrposhta branches and vehicles have been hit, and more than 50 staff have lost their lives, according to the service.

Kateryna Marynych’s Village Run

Kateryna Marynych, a 38-year-old postmistress, runs the office in Lukasheve near Zaporizhzhia. She lost her home and her husband during the full-scale invasion and came to the area to rebuild her life. Her van was destroyed in March by a Russian drone targeting soldiers nearby.

She still goes to the village. Elderly villagers form a steady queue while she hands out cash and takes payments from the passenger seat, window open. One customer, Nadiia, said she was grateful: “It’s a long way for us to travel to Zaporizhzhia. Especially now, at a time when there are attacks all around us. The fact that they come here is really nice.”

Oleksandrivna, 77, arrived wearing a purple dressing gown, walking with a crutch. Asked where she would be without Kateryna, she replied: “We would be stuffed! I am just out of hospital after a stroke. Where could I go for my medicine?”

Mykola, 64, pointed to another service. “It is very important,” he said. “It’s one of the few joys of the month: you come out, have a chat with people, collect your pension, and go home.”

The Last Link With Kyiv

For many people in remote communities, Kateryna is their last link with the Ukrainian state. She travels with her partner, Slava, who drives and handles parcels while she sorts cash. Both wear body armour near the front line. The van carries a side-arm for personal protection and a device showing the location of small drones.

Kateryna says she hopes her customers are proud of her. “They love me, they need me,” she said. “They are waiting for me. Sometimes they call me, especially after attacks on Zaporizhzhia and ask me how I am. We are like a big family. My attitude towards them is like a grandmother or grandfather.”

She accepted her job was dangerous but would never change it. “It is my work,” she said. “If I can’t, who will do my job?”

A Wider Escalation

Russia’s wider war on Ukraine includes fast drone attacks on civilian infrastructure, energy facilities, transport networks and border posts. Analysts say Russia is looking for other ways to pressure Kyiv as its invasion stagnates on the battlefield in the east.

The attacks on Ukrposhta are part of that pattern. Smelyansky faces a daily calculus of risk. The stakes are not abstract. If he sends a van, he risks the driver’s life. If he does not, people lose food and medicine.

The Choice Before Him

The choice is brutal. Stay home and let people starve. Or send a van and risk a driver’s life. Smelyansky makes that call every morning, weighing the same factors his aides report to him: where the Russians are firing, where the crowds will gather, and where the trucks can safely arrive.

He has learned to move fast. He has learned to be flexible.

The work continues.

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