LYMAN, Ukraine — Outside the Lyman mayor’s office was a pile of Russian propaganda posters, apparently freshly torn and partially burned in a fire that died out in a fine autumn drizzle on Sunday.
Decorated in the white, blue and red colors of the Russian flag, they were soaked with rain. One of them explained the meaning of Russian state symbols, the Russian flag and the national anthem. “Russia’s national anthem is loved in our country,” read a partially burned poster.
A day after Ukrainian forces regained control of Lyman, a strategic rail hub in the Donetsk region of eastern Ukraine, a picture began to emerge of the destruction left behind by fleeing Russian soldiers who had occupied the city for months. In a hasty withdrawal, they abandoned official documents, military vehicles and the bodies of their comrades.
After weeks of fierce fighting, Russian forces withdrew from Lyman on Saturday, just a day after President Vladimir V. Putin illegally declared the surrounding region part of Russia, citing what Ukraine and its allies Westerners have called sham referendums in territories partly under Russian control. .
The intense battle for the city was evident on Sunday afternoon. Whole city blocks were scenic scenes of crumbling bricks and corrugated iron roofs. A local bakery, Seagul, was reduced to a pile of rubble. His bread trucks were still parked in a parking lot waiting for the morning distributions which would not come.
About 5,000 of the 22,000 prewar residents remained in Lyman, police said.
“Look at the destroyed houses,” said Roman Plakhaniv, a Kramatorsk district police lieutenant who arrived to patrol the city on Sunday. “It was a nice normal town. People from another country came and destroyed it.
Signs of Russia’s plans to put down roots were plentiful. Inside the town hall were notices explaining how to apply for a building permit from the occupation authority and with the telephone numbers to call to apply for a Russian pension. A stamped and signed document left on a table announced “the establishment of the Committee to Review Controversial Issues in the Distribution of Welfare.” It was formed on September 9.
Copies of a newspaper called Donetsk Republic were strewn on the floor. An edition dated September 15 carried an article under the title “Defence of the Republic and Russia’s Borders” – apparently intended to allay concerns as Ukraine’s counter-offensive gained ground.
“Russian President Vladimir V. Putin announced that during the special operation, Russia will not lose its military power and will defend its sovereignty,” the article explains.
In one office was a poster bearing a Z, symbol of the Russian invasion, which read: “We do not abandon our people”.
The only accessible route to Lyman is muddy and rutted, crossing a pontoon bridge over the rushing waters of the Oskil River, which the Russian military had briefly tried to maintain as a defensive barrier last month, before retreating further.
The dense pine forest surrounding the town had slowed and frustrated both sides in the fighting, and now shows signs of the ferocity of the artillery fighting in the cut branches scattered along the road. Whole villages along the road are in ruins.
At one point, the road leading into town passed by the remnants of what appeared to be a Ukrainian attack on Russian soldiers attempting to flee the town in a civilian van. The vehicle doors were open and sleeping bags, cushions, military coats, rations, shoes and other supplies were spilled out.
Nearby, on the side of the road, were anti-tank mines and the bodies of half a dozen Russian soldiers. A line of Ukrainian military trucks rumbled on, as a bomb squad checked the bodies for traps, using ropes to pull and jostle them from a distance in case they exploded.
Asked about the death of the Russians, one of the soldiers from the demining team shrugged. “They came to a foreign country,” he said.