Ukrainians from conflict-torn city seek refuge where they can

Sitting among the few possessions that his family could grab before leaving home, three-year-old Yegor brandished a blue plastic pistol and repeated quietly to himself: "Those men are killing people."

Yegor and his parents are among a growing exodus of civilians fleeing almost daily shelling in the conflict-torn rebel bastion of Slavyansk in eastern Ukraine as fighting rages between government troops and separatist insurgents.

They were staying in temporary accommodation in the town of Snizhne, around 180 kilometres (112 miles) southeast in the same region, after being bussed out by supporters of the rebels.

A total of 57 refugees from Slavyansk, including 31 children, were staying in a 40-bed sanatorium belonging to a mining company, said its manager, Larisa Kitun.

Yegor's parents, 35-year-old builder Vladislav and 33-year-old engineer Yekaterina, said they escaped with just what they could carry after their apartment block was hit by a mortar this month.

On a bed sat Yegor's favourite teddy bear - one of the few personal items they managed to save.

"We took what we could. It's just not realistic under shelling," said Yekaterina, with tears breaking through as she spoke.

"Two shells hit our apartment building on Sunday June 8. It's an eight-storey building right in the centre."

Yegor was thrown across the room by the shock wave, Yekaterina said, adding that he cries out at night and has started to stammer a little.

In the sanatorium grounds, children ran around and played football, while inside several teenagers played on a computer, ignoring a nearby television broadcasting a Russian rolling news channel.

Alexandra, a 28-year-old shop assistant and her sister, 32-year-old former factory worker Yulia, sat on beds scattered with soft toys.

With three children apiece, the sisters were the first to arrive at Snizhne on May 31 - nine of them packed into one car.

Alexandra was accompanied by her husband, a taxi driver, while Yulia's husband stayed behind - fighting with the rebels.

"He phones and they stay in touch. He's still alive," said Alexandra, a striking dark-haired woman in a flower-print summer dress, as her son crawled on the floor.

The women said they also left their 50-year-old mother behind in a city with no mains water or electricity.

"She says: 'I draw water from the well, I buy rice from the shop, the vegetable patch will be providing soon. I'll live through it'," Alexandra said.

Three months ago, Slavyansk was an unremarkable provincial town of around 120,000. After 10 weeks of fighting, it has been transformed into a battle-scarred city under seige, with government armour encircling well-equipped rebels holed up there.

Many residents with children have fled into Russia or within Ukraine, while some have stayed to protect their homes from looting.

The sanatorium's manager said that some of the refugees had already left for Russia and she wanted to bring in more next month.

A local resident, who gave his name only as Valery, said he had bussed the refugees out of Slavyansk and returned with medication for the rebels in four round trips.

The families said they were fearful for the future and unsure whether to move to Russia or to stay on at the sanatorium in an area with a large concentration of rebel fighters.

At a nearby rebel checkpoint, an anti-tank mine lay on the tarmac.

On Wednesday Ukrainian President Petro Poroshenko said that he would soon order a unilateral ceasefire by Ukrainian troops.

But, speaking before the announcement, those who fled Slavyansk said they thought it would take some time before it was safe to return home.

"They are destroying the city. It will have to be rebuilt," said Alexandra.

Conditions at the sanatorium were "fairly lousy" said Yekaterina, with toilets and shower rooms shared between several families, and a communal kitchen.

But the hardest trial was the waiting and lack of contact with loved ones, said her husband Vladislav.

"There's a lot of time now, That's crazy. The worst thing is not knowing whether your relatives are alive." - AFP