“It’s a big responsibility. Even if you are exhausted, you go to work. You sit here and you do this anyway.”
From 7am until 7pm, seven days a week, Nataliya Makodzob sits at her table in the corner of a makeshift factory in the Ukrainian city of Mykolaiv, stitching pieces of body armour together.
Hunched over her sewing machine, her red hair highlighted by the grey walls around her, Nataliya is one of 11 women working every hour to make bulletproof vests for those fighting the Russian invasion of Ukraine.
The dark walls dampen what little light already penetrates the windows and the rhythmic whirring of the sewing machines echoes the distant machinegun fire heard around the eastern fronts.
"Before this, I was sewing sleeping bags for the soldiers," she says. "As I understand it, flak jackets and body armour are more important now.”
Across Ukraine, volunteers have heeded the call to aid the Ukrainian war effort in any way they can, from making Molotov cocktails to throw at tanks, sewing camouflage netting to hide checkpoints or digging trenches on the outskirts of cities to slow down an attack. For the elderly men and women of Mykolaiv, body armour has become a speciality.
Situated on the southern coast 50 kilometres west of the occupied city of Kherson, Mykolaiv stands as the last line of defence between the historic city of Odesa and the advancing Russians.
Before the Ukrainian forces managed to push the Russians east a week ago, the city had been the scene of ferocious fighting on its outskirts and relentless shelling in its centre. The National entered homes that were torn apart by missile strikes and visited patients in hospital that had lost limbs during a Russian cluster munitions strike while they waited in line to withdraw cash on March 13.
However, Ukrainian victories had not quenched Russian thirst for long-range strikes. The day before the factory visit, the administration building in the centre of the small city was destroyed by a Kalibr missile strike at 8.45am. Vitaly Kim, the charismatic regional govern, is believed to have been the target. He said he was not in the building as he had overslept.
With Russia’s announcement that it is pulling forces away from Kyiv and the north-east to concentrate its efforts on southern territories it has already taken, many believe it aims to cut Ukraine off from the Black Sea. If this does prove to be Vladimir Putin’s fresh tactic, Mykolaiv will become the stage for renewed fighting. This is not lost on its residents. So much so, the women decide to work through the air raid sirens that infiltrate the small factory.
“During the siren, we work and don’t find shelter. We have no time to pay attention to this because we have to sew,” said Nataliya.
Two tables back from Nataliya, surrounded by offcuts of Velcro-style fasteners and camo, Lubov Baraban glances up nervously from a video call with her daughter, hunching a little lower with every wail of the siren.
Body armour is in short supply in both Ukraine and Europe. Telegram and Facebook groups are littered with requests for bulletproof helmets and armoured vests, but most pleas for help go unanswered. Reporters Without Borders collected 30 vests for delivery to Ukrainian journalists working in hot zones. However, that number falls far short of the thousands of vests needed for all those at the front.
The women tucked away in the secret ground-floor factory have called in every contact they have. One man who works in the garment industry has been found to provide the camouflage fabric. Fasteners and plastic clips are sourced from a market near Odesa.
Nataliya is the only professional seamstress sitting among the small army of sewing machines. The other women are volunteers with no experience apart from fixing the holes in their family’s clothes. Nataliya quickly brings them up to speed.
“It’s very hard work and different fabrics hurt your hands, but everyone comes here to learn and do the job,”
A five-minute drive from Nataliya and Lubov sit 50-year-old Bogdan Shur and his friend Andrei. Down an old street with ancient embedded tram tracks and hidden behind a characterless grey gate, a dark, half-finished shell of a building houses another secret factory.
“We produce armour plates. It’s class four and can withstand 7.62 calibre hits,” Bogdan proudly tells The National, his bright blue eyes gleaming as he knocks on the steel plates.
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In an echo of the women on the factory floor, Andrei sits hunched over his welding iron fusing strips of scrap metal together. With only his back illuminated in the half-light and with his face hidden behind the protective mask held aloft in his left hand, this hidden hero toils away seven days a week.
The two men salvage the springs from Russian Kamaz lorries, cut them down to size, solder them, cover them in thick foam and finally duct-tape the edges. Bogdan is proud of their work.
“We shot at them. They withstand the bullets well,” he says, a wry smile creeping across his face.
'We didn't expect quality like this'
This sentiment is echoed by Sgt Maj Victor Chernov of the Ukrainian Armed Forces. His pride is palpable as he talks to The National via phone from the front lines.
“Obviously we want deliveries from Europe, but we didn’t expect quality like this from home-made manufacture. The vests are good,” he says.
The women in the ground-floor factory and the men in the secret forge can produce up to 50 armoured vests a day for their army, medics and the volunteer Territorial Defence Force.
Despite Russia’s military superiority and scale, the Ukrainians have defied expectation on every front. They have liberated captured cities and pushed the invading forces back, forcing Russia to alter its war aims and strategy. Much of this is due to the civilian volunteers working day and night to assist its forces.
As the Russian army moves south, the worst of the war may be yet to come for the men and women of Mykolaiv, many of whom have family and loved ones in the fight. This wretched reality is not lost on Nataliya, who has an added stake in the war herself.
“My husband is in the Territorial Defence," she says. "That’s why I understand how important this work is. It’s very important for all of us.”
