David Ury (SH 1973-76) tells us about his experience volunteering in Ukraine. 

It started when Covid ended and the Russians invaded Ukraine. Depressed by the relentlessly bad news, I asked myself half-jokingly "what if I did something positive every time I heard some bad news?"

"Yeah, good luck with that!" I told myself. It got me thinking. I don't like bullies. And here was a big powerful country behaving exactly like a bully to its smaller neighbour. What could I do? There was a demonstration held outside the Russian embassy in London, so off I went. There were many young Ukrainians there angrily shouting with tears in their eyes. I'd been to demonstrations before, but what do they achieve? This required something more, I felt.

I heard that there were thousands of dazed and displaced people crossing the border from Ukraine into Poland where they were placed in a disused shopping centre. This was in Przymysl. (I couldn't pronounce that either, when I arrived.)

I'm retired and have a fair bit of strength and health, so off I went. I hired a minibus locally and registered with the police as a volunteer. (Sadly, one outcome of war is the proliferation of people smugglers with all that that entails, hence the necessity to declare myself.) I spent a couple of weeks ferrying people from the border to the centre and on to the train station to points west. There were mums with their babies. There were children with their pet rabbits. There were grannies in wheelchairs and elderly confused men. It was a mess.

Naturally, I met up with many volunteers from all over the world, all with extraordinary stories. Friendships were formed and Volunteer WhatsApp groups were created. Some kept going, others fell by the wayside.

Now, over two years later the war still goes on, but it feels like yesterday's news to many of us, with another horrible war waging in the Middle East and fatigue in general. The need for support is still extreme though.

I am in the middle of my 11th mission over here. I have teamed up with charities helping displaced people escape from danger including Rubikus, the Norwegian Refugee Council and an organisation called Transport a Sister. As well as helping traumatised families to their new lives in Norway and Denmark, Transport a Sister focuses on bringing aid to animals. Sadly, as people flee west, they arrive at the border and are not allowed to take their pets with them. Thousands of dogs are simply left in petrol stations near the borders. Transport a Sister supports groups which look after these animals.

I spend my days collecting displaced people in the west of Ukraine, driving them to Warsaw, where they travel on to their new lives in Scandinavia. Then I turn round and fill my bus with aid and head back to Ukraine, where the aid is forwarded. I pay for these trips myself, but Transport a Sister is always looking for funds to fix its buses, to pay for fuel and so much more...

One of the most moving moments on my travels is when we finally arrive in Warsaw – at a former school and now shelter for displaced people. I park the bus, open the doors and the passengers step out. They look around them and can't quite believe they are safe. The centre is located near to the main international airport and my passengers haven't seen peaceful airplanes since the outbreak of war. At first, the sound of an approaching plane landing is quite scary, but then they realise that they're commercial planes and they always grin. A child asked me recently, "are we really safe here?" She was asking for her Dad who suffered from PTSD. I assured her they were safe.

Here's a challenge: Try doing something positive every time you hear bad news. You might be surprised.

If you would like to find out more, or support, Transport a Sister please visit their Facebook page.

This article appeared as a feature in the Spring 2025 OKS Magazine. To read the full issue, please click here.