Travelling Into and Inside Western Ukraine with a Scottish Non-Profit Organisation.

Sunday, 25th of June, 2023, Scottish-based charity Jeeps for Peace have assembled at a warehouse in South Gyle, Edinburgh. In front of them stands a warehouse filled with old, beat-up 4x4s. Most vehicles have been the mainstays of farms up and down Scotland, with standout makes like the Ford Ranger, the Mitsubishi Warrior, and the Toyota Hilux. J4P has spent the last month gathering these ageing vehicles for a single purpose: to take them as part of a convoy on a 1700-mile journey across half of Europe. The convoy's aim? To deliver 4x4s to the Ukrainian military as med-evacs for wounded soldiers.

Charity organisers Dominic Harris, Stewart Ford, Jigme Tarup, Adam Beasley and Vasyl Madiar have been busy since their previous Ukrainian convoy in May. In a joint effort with English-based charity Pickups for Peace, the two organisations collected 25 vehicles in just over a month. This dramatic surge in numbers was a welcome surprise for a charity that had started out with only 6 4x4s in December 2022.

A quick look around the warehouse would convince many that this organisation is not just a collection of well-wishers, but a well-organised machine: The entranceway is guarded by two six-foot banners adorned with the charity logo; the doors and bonnets of each pickup are coated with laminate QR codes for the charity – quite literally to promote as they go; Ford even surprises the volunteers with navy blue shirts with a yellow thistle sitting above the heart. 

Adorning one of the shirts and then handing out more to the arriving stream of volunteers, Ford elaborates on the expedition's planning. “This is our biggest convoy so far, and we have put in a lot of work to make it look the part, but like any charity, we have setbacks. Finding the vehicles is a struggle; sometimes we won't get a truck until the very last minute. In the past it's also been a struggle to find as many volunteers… sometimes we had only one person per vehicle doing the whole drive.”

Jeep in Edinburgh warehouse, waiting to be sent off.

While the Jeeps themselves make up an impressive number, some of their conditions are anything but. With some being over 20 years old and having an average of 110,000 miles on the clock, many risk a breakdown en route to Ukraine. None of this seems to faze Madiar, who says dismissively: “The risk of a breakdown is worth it.”

As a Ukrainian national, and J4P's primary connection to the Ukrainian Military, Madiar knows the value placed on the pickups to help save lives. “Every car we bring over is saving more lives. I know this for a fact. The army also highly value British right-hand drive vehicles… Russian snipers will aim at the left side so that they can take out drivers. these vehicles have given people precious seconds to survive.”

With such a high value placed on the jeeps, and the promise of full service after delivery, the 60-plus volunteers ready themselves to take their jeeps as far as their engines will run. Giving a short debrief before setting off, the Ford and Harris thank the hanger-full of volunteers, before waving them off on their continent-spanning journey. The first leg of the journey was to Newcastle, where the J4P and P4P trucks would link up and take the overnight ferry to Amsterdam. With every pickup needing more than one driver as to maintain a steady pace, we were paired with co-organiser Stewart Ford. Soaring through the Scottish and English countryside to the soundtrack of Paul Weller, Ford's favourite artist, we get an insight into the charity's organisation.

Since its foundation in 2022, many have grown to regard Ford as the unofficial ‘head’ of the charity, thanks to his background in the business and financial sectors spanning 30+ years, his connections to possible investors and know-how of fundraisers have helped the organisation skyrocket. Ford himself rejects any notion that he is the de facto 'head' of the expedition. When asked about the organisation's leadership, he states, " no person runs Jeeps for Peace. Everyone involved brings something unique that I couldn't do by myself, if it weren't for everyone else wanting to be involved then this whole operation would fall apart."

When asked about his expectations for the four-day journey, Ford is open about his doubts that all the cars will successfully make it. "I expect we might have some problems with the cars," he concedes. "The trucks we get are used to only driving a few miles here or there across farmland, not almost 2000 miles... I'm expecting 1 or 2 breakdowns over the next few days."

The first problems begin surfacing sooner than we might have expected. On rendezvousing in Newcastle with the rest of the team, we make our way towards the ferry. It was here that we had our first breakdown. Approaching the queue for the ferry, one of the older Isuzu's batteries caved in and refused to come back on. After hastily pushing it out of the way of other drivers, team members got to work trying to revive it. To the surprise of many, the truck returned to life and rolled through border control onto the ferry.

Broken-down pickup being pushed by volunteers, Newcastle.

As if like clockwork, the moment the jeeps touched down in Holland, problems began arising. Co-drivers would frantically message the convoys WhatsApp group, updating everyone of faults with their cars, engines giving out, and emergency pullovers into the hard shoulder. In one instance, the front hood of one of the pickups unlocked itself while on the motorway, flying back and smashing the windshield. Thankfully, all inside were uninjured and were able to continue. However, in an odd twist of fate, the hood had a laminate J4P logo stuck onto it. Jeeps for Peace were – quite literally – smacking themselves in the face.

Co-organiser Jigme Tarup was the driver of a problematic 4x4, with his vehicle breaking down outside of Onasbruk, Germany. While being one jeep down with no immediate plan for fixing it, Tarup remains surprisingly calm in the situation – even Jovial about it.  “It was me who had to stop for Stewart when he broke down on the last trip; it was only right he picks me up now!” While arranging another 4x4 to pick him up, Tarup explains that “it is a problem when one of the pickups breaks down en route, but we are prepared for it now. We’ve had enough issues in the past during other trips that its expected… my only problem with leaving the cars is all the supplies we have to leave as well.” Due to Tarup’s connections to Nairn’ Oatcakes Ltd, each pickup carries donated dried food supplies intended for soldiers on the front. Along with dried food, the cars were filled with medical supplies, spare car batteries and generators – all highly valued by soldiers on the front.

Of the 25 that left on the 25th, 2 would break down in places across Germany. In preparation, the organisations brought a series of tow ropes to get the vehicles off the motorway. Once in a secure location, the drivers would leave a location marker on their map, jump into another car, and continue. The vehicles are then abandoned until a means of collection is arranged – many times, the cars will wait until collection by the convoy following.

Pickup photographed along the side of the motorway, West Germany.

After three days of intense driving across five countries, the 23-car strong convoy pulls into the small border town of Lubaczow. This town of only 12,000 people has witnessed one of the largest mass expulsions of people in modern history. Studies as recent as September 2023 have revealed that over 15.4 million Ukrainian refugees have fled into Poland since February 2022; with many passing through the Budomierz-Hrusziv Border crossing -the intended crossing point for the convoy.

There’s a quiet atmosphere among many of the ‘first timers’ in the build-up to crossing the border. Organisers like Ford, Harris and Madiar appear almost too occupied in the planning to pay any mind to the possible danger. There’s a level of uncertainty and the gnawing thought that anything is possible in a country at war. With the only images circling inside Ukraine focussing on the conflict, the nerves of the convoy were naturally heightened.

Any nerves were somewhat put to rest through a conversation with J4P volunteer Michael Willis. Willis, with his partner Jasmine Lehnis, are active humanitarians with extensive experience inside Ukraine, with Lehnis being the director of Care in Action: Ukraine. Willis appeared confident in the knowledge that the western section of the country is relatively safe to travel, with Lviv being secure from Russian attacks. 

When asked about his previous experiences in the country, Willis reveals that he was in Lviv only one month into the conflict, during the full-scale Russian assault:

"I remember running for an air raid bunker in the early hours of the morning. I spent the entire night down there, feeling the ground shake beneath me as planes were bombing the city. It was scary… In comparison now it's almost night and day in Lviv, we shouldn't be in danger while we're there."

With the final pickup rolling into Lubaczow, the convoy began a slow, orderly approach towards the border. It was the first time all drivers could actively see the scale of their charity's efforts, as a solid line of trucks practically marched in column towards the border. 

Convoy approaching the Polish-Ukrainian border.

Approaching the border crossing, many first-time volunteers seem taken aback. Instead of a tense, heavily guarded crossing into a war-torn country, there was nothing. Less than nothing. The atmosphere was so mundane that many could describe it as dull. Families were returning from seeing loved ones, truck drivers were almost falling asleep behind the wheel as they waited, and even a car transport full of cars waited to go across the border to repair all its vehicles for cheap before coming back over. For the Poles or Ukrainians waiting ahead in the queue, it was just another Tuesday.

Due to connections that Madiar had made with the military through J4P, the whole convoy was brought to the front of the queue. Approaching the Polish guards, our papers and vehicles were rigorously searched. In contrast to the somewhat sullen and bored expression upon the faces of the Polish guards, The Ukrainians greeted the convoy with everything short of applause. Knowing the intention of our crossing, none wanted to halt the convoy for any length of time. As if like a triumphant army returning to Rome, the Ukrainians waved through the convoy as quickly as they could. After a brief inspection by the Ukrainian border patrol, we crossed. The convoy had entered Ukraine.

As we were the first ones across the border, we had to wait until all other pickups successfully crossed over. I was finally introduced to Vincent Gillingham, head officer for Pickups for Peace.  While significantly younger than most other charity organisers, only in his mid-thirties, Gillingham commanded much respect from the predominantly older group of farmers that make up P4P, who look to him as the primary organiser.  When asking Gillingham why he is involved with charity work, it becomes clear why he is so driven to help save lives:

"My wife is Ukrainian, so I've spent a lot of time here before. I love this country. I also have a young daughter, and looking at her kept reminding me of the scared children over in Ukraine that I couldn't do anything to help. So now, I want to do everything that I can."

After several months of successful relief work, he and others came to the idea of delivering old pickup trucks to the front. Through each organisation's charity work, J4P and P4P encountered one another. Even though the names sound very similar, Gillingham insisted that neither organisation knew about the other until 2023, when they began collaborating. According to Gillingham's estimates, the charity's combined work has delivered 137 vehicles to the front.

Vincent Gillingham of Pickups for Peace, Lubaczow.

Naturally, it's quite challenging for others to imagine what living in Ukraine is like. Since February 2022, the only images shown from inside the country are those of bombed-out cities, artillery shells, and men firing at one another from trenches. Entering Lviv reveals a side that is hardly shown anymore.

While remaining geographically isolated from the main combat areas, the Lviv Oblast remains under constant threat of assault by air strikes. While Ukrainian air defences have helped keep the city relatively safe, the region remains a target for the Russians, who have consistently made strikes on military and civilian targets alike. The 6th of July – 8 days after the J4P convoy left the city – saw the deadliest single strike made on the city, when a residential building was struck during a bombing raid, killing ten and injuring forty more.

Travelling through the city of Lviv shows a side of Ukraine that goes relatively unseen: the pavements are flooded with people returned home from another average day at work; groups of friends wander the streets, looking for something to do with their summer evening; cars and trucks are beeping their horns at one another as the roads became compact, with motorcyclists racing around the convoy to avoid the oncoming red light ahead. The streets are alive, like in any other European city.

The convoy spent the night in Lviv, the last stop on the road towards Kolomyya. Upon exploring the city, members of the convoy came across a student quartet band, performing on the steps of the Taras Shevchenko monument, to a crowd of almost 150 people. Couples were dancing in the centre of the semi-circle of people, while many others sang along. In a city that remains in a constant state of threat, here was a crowd of people seemingly unphased by the possible danger; taking in the moment and finding some happiness in a trying time. While the band's songs might not have stood out, it didn't matter – seeing this one truly human moment is enough.

Charities brought into their accommodation to the sound of bagpipes, Lviv.

A scorching sun and the long expanse of the western steppe greeted the charities in the morning, as we undertook our last 130 miles towards their destination of Kolomyya. Madiar had organised for members of the Ukrainian military to meet the convoy in an undisclosed location outside the town. Arriving in a warehouse outside the city perimeters, the convoy disembarked from their vehicles for the last time. Our journey was now complete.

Charity organisers were greeted by members of the 10th Mountain Assault Brigade, who were tasked with collecting the vehicles and bringing them to wherever they were needed on the front. Along with a handful of soldiers and a military chaplain, we were introduced to one of the company's officers, only known to me as Bogdan.

With the soldiers needing to travel back to collect the vehicles, they had been granted 2-day leave from service to spend time with their families. To spend as much time as possible with them, Bogdan brought his 5-year-old son with him as he inspected the vehicles. As the charity organisers shook hands with Bogdan, and discussed the plans for the jeeps, his son disappeared from his side.

Ignoring the conversation he could never understand at his age, he escaped into the maze of pickups and immersed himself in his imaginary game of war. He ducked behind tyres, rolled between the bonnets, and ran up the corridors of car doors, all while firing finger guns into the air – if he only knew where those pickups were going.

Pickups being dropped off in hanger, Kolomyya.

A celebration marked the final night for the convoy. Arriving at our accommodation, we were greeted by a Ukrainian folk band, with one performing with a Trembita – a 3-metre-long mountain horn commonly used in the Ukrainian highlands south of Kolomyya – and a Tsymbaly – the Ukrainian equivalent to the dulcimer.

For many there, this was a night of celebration. The goal had been achieved, and soon, all drivers on the convoy would be bussed back to Poland and then flown home. The last night only signified a small rest for the J4P organisers as well. The need for pickups at the front never goes away, and the more cars sent, the better. Before the convoy left on the 25th of June, plans were already in work for another convoy scheduled for July. "We feel good about what we've accomplished here," observes Harris, "but that isn't any reason to stop what we're doing, if anything, it should keep driving us forward." 

For the soldiers of the 10th Brigade, the war still rages. They appear as a group of men involved in a conflict much bigger than them; one they did not want to be a part of but felt wholeheartedly obligated to be a part of. One who was undergoing physiotherapy after shrapnel smashed through his arm stood out. Due to his injuries and past service, he would not need to go back into service after his recovery, yet he still said he'd re-enlist. "I know I don't need to, but I have to go back," he said. When asked if he was scared about going back, he replied "Yes… I have lost so many friends in the fighting… but I have to go back to help stop any more from dying."

"We get praise and thanks for what we are doing with the Jeeps, but I don't think it's ever enough," Admits Madiar. "These men [the soldiers] do so much more than us… they risk everything. As long as I can help in some way then I'm happy." When asked how long the pickups will last on the front, Madiar answered, "Around 3 to 5 months, if they are lucky… they are always needing more.”

Local band playing for the Volunteers, Kolomyya.