Desperate young men dig trenches as terrified families flee in panic

As the relentless overnight shelling paused, the frightened residents of Kyiv packed into their cars to make their escape. It may have been their last chance.

Men and women at the side of the road waved desperately to flag down the few passing vehicles. But there was no more room inside. The main bridge leading out of the capital of three million people had been blown up.

The only routes out were littered with abandoned cars or vehicles that crashed in the confusion.

Through the outskirts of the city, families walked in freezing cold with suitcases.

But some were forced to turn back with bags in hand. “We were trying to evacuate, but halfway down the road, they started shelling,” computer programmer Helga Tarasova said.

She had taken a bus to Kyiv train station with her young son and several friends. “We only had 800 metres (half a mile) to go until the station,” the 36-year-old recalled, while bouncing her son on her knee. Fears were growing of a lengthy and brutal siege that would likely involve cutting off electricity, internet, phone lines – and water. Food supplies had already begun to run short yesterday, leaving supermarket shelves bare. Long queues formed outside the few shops that remained open. But the explosions had become so intense and so frequent that even a brief spell outside for fresh air could be deadly.

Some had gambled their lives to queue up for hours at Kyiv’s central railway station – where warning shots were fired to stop the stampede for evacuation trains.

The bus station offered little more hope – or safety. Both are exposed to Russian airstrikes.

Deep in the suburbs, families were loading up their people carriers and roof boxes. Only soldiers or civilians who have taken up arms appeared to be prepared to stay.

In the wintry countryside outside of town the roads were covered in potholes and flanked by woodland.

Heavily armed Ukrainian fighters in camouflage jackets stopped the rare passing cars. Soldiers wore white strips of cloth as armbands, tell-tale signs of a local militia.

They questioned those travelling in any direction, searched vehicles and checked IDs.

Further west, dozens of young men carrying AK-47 assault rifles prepared to defend their villages. Some were digging trenches. The Sunday Telegraph was immediately ordered to delete all our pictures – the Ukrainians do not want any of their locations to be given away.

Down the road, a train track ran parallel carrying Howitzer missile systems – more firepower to keep the Russians at bay.

On the main highway leaving Kyiv, everyone was running low on fuel. Most petrol stations were dry. Those that weren’t imposed strict limits.

The shelves were bare in one of the few stations open, except for dice to hang on the car mirror, and antifreeze. The only food to be found was melted ice cream in a broken-down freezer.

As citizens fled their capital, Ukrainian soldiers blocked the road going the other way.

Some tore down road signs to confuse Russian invaders.

Ahead of travellers, more than 300 miles away, was Lviv – the city that could soon become the de facto free capital of Ukraine. Behind them was their home and the country’s actual capital since the ninth century – in one way or another.

An LED sign had been placed on the road with a message for the travellers.

“Good luck”, it said.