The day a pro-Russian politician saved his city from Putin’s troops
Against all odds, Oleksandr Vikul came up with the plan that kept Kryvyi Rih out of Moscow’s hands
Oleksandr Vilkul had no military experience before the war, yet when he was awoken by a phone call early on Feb 24 he knew exactly what needed to be done.
Russian missiles were raining down across the country, including on Kryvyi Rih. As the largest city in central Ukraine, a vital gateway between Kyiv and the east, and president Volodymyr Zelensky’s hometown, he knew its loss so early on would be catastrophic.
When The Sunday Telegraph met Mr Vilkul, 48, in Kryvyi Rih recently, he had a map of the country rolled out on the table and was wearing fatigues.
The former pro-Russian political figure, who once called for Ukrainian to be scrapped as the country’s single language, is now head of the city’s military administration – by Mr Zelensky’s appointment.
It’s a remarkable transformation – one that began that February morning as he stood next to his father, acting mayor Yuri, inside the city’s main council building, considering options.
The idea of defending Kryvyi Rih, a city with no serious military force, seemed impossible. He remembers those dark, uncertain hours in crystal clear detail. Silence fell on the makeshift war room as those gathered watched Mr Vilkul light a cigarette and prepare to lay out his plan. “Block the runway with anything you can find,” he eventually said. Those there questioned his logic: how would closing the landing strip at the local airport protect them from Moscow’s wrath? To convince them, Mr Vilkul told a story passed down from his uncle. The Soviet military pilot used to entertain a young Mr Vilkul with tales of how Czechoslovakia was captured by the Russians in 1968.
The assault began with a flight from Moscow carrying a special forces group requesting an emergency landing at Prague’s Ruzyne airport at 5am due to “engine failure”, he explained.
The airport was quickly overtaken by Soviet forces, paving the way for Antonov An-12 transporters to fly in tanks and artillery. “The Soviet army captured five airports and thus captured the country,” Mr Vilkul told the war room.
They didn’t need convincing. Four hours later, the runway of Kryvyi Rih’s airport had been blocked off by dozens of cement mixers, lorries and buses from across the city known as the “steel heart of Ukraine”.
On the first day of the war, nothing happened. Sounds of explosions and the pitter-patter of rain filled the air, but no Russian planes. Had they got it wrong, they wondered?
Then, on the second day, a Russian transport plane loaded with paratroopers and escorted by two fighter jets was spotted barrelling towards the city. As they descended through clouds of thick fog, the aircraft were forced to abort landing just 200 metres from the ground.
That success couldn’t be enjoyed for long. “The Russians came within a few hundred metres of the city,” said Mr Vilkul. The next task was to secure the city with just 600 ill-equipped volunteers from an imminent land assault. He ordered a fleet of yellow mining trucks, weighing 250 tons and standing almost three stories tall, to be dragged out from a nearby iron ore pit to block the roads.
Heavy-duty explosives were used to demolish bridges and tunnels leading into the city, creating a cordon of machinery and rubble.
The convoy of some 50 Russian tanks and more artillery cannons approaching from Crimea did not stand a chance, he explained. “God helped us, because the rain washed away the fields and the tanks could only move along the asphalt road.”
Stuck outside the city, the Ukrainian military spotted their chance to go on the offensive. Helicopters destroyed tanks to leave the enemy stranded and forced to flee on foot.
In the aftermath, videos emerged online of local farmers using their tractors to tow pieces of abandoned Russian kit into the city.
The next time Russian troops arrived at the gates of Kryvyi Rih in early March, they were met by a hail of fire from their own weapons before eventually retreating. “We were lucky because one of the workers of our military department was once an artilleryman,” Mr Vilkul said.
Unable to capture the city, Moscow has instead resorted to using its most advanced hypersonic Kinzhal ballistic missiles to attack a nearby dam, which at one point risked leaving 150,000 homes flooded.
The former pro-Russian politician admits that he got his stance on Vladimir Putin wrong. Ties with Russia, at least while Mr Putin or his allies remain in charge of the Kremlin, will never be the same again, he said.
“I can’t say that Putin has betrayed Ukraine because Russia has always been a dangerous neighbour, but I did not expect the invasion, I didn’t expect Russia to go for it,” Mr Vilkul said.
In the ensuing months he has used his industrial ties to help where he can, manufacturing anti-tank hedgehogs from railway parts, making bulletproof vests from locally produced steel and even converting pick-up trucks into mobile rocket launchers.
As the former head of Kryvyi Rih’s northern iron ore enrichment plant, he has also ordered excavators from local mines to assist Ukrainian troops in digging 200 miles of trenches around the city.
Mr Vilkul is, however, modest about his role in the war. “Everyone is a hero in Kryvyi Rih,” he declared.