The Irish team has recently returned from a successful convoy, during which they delivered 2 ambulances, 8 4×4’s and an ALP (Ariel Ladder Platform) fire engine that can be used for high-rise rescues and aerial firefighting. On their six-day journey, they travelled from Ireland through the Netherlands, Germany and Poland before spending some time in Ukraine.
Here is the convoy story, as told by leader Michael Hughes:
DAY 1 – Rendezvous at Stockhouse; in the words of ABBA, ‘my, my, here we go again’.
A fine sunny morning finds us ferrying vehicles into Stockhouse to secure the car park for further arrivals. Inside, Sambos and food are being prepared for our volunteers and guests.
Soon other volunteers start arriving with their vehicles and spaces are quickly filled. Then the star of the show, the ALP (aerial ladder platform) , an impressive behemoth of a machine, arrives, driven by Ken and Jim. Soon, it’s joined by two ambulances driven by Paddy, Justin, Robbie & Connor. Along with our minibus provided by Darran, our crewvan provided by Vika and 8 great 4×4’s provided by Stockhouse, McNallys, Damien & Paddy, Ger, Kiaran & Paul, Fergal & Brian, Keir and David. These are to be driven by Muireadhach, Manus, Jim, Gerry, Orla, Carmel and myself. Overall, there’s a great crew of many veterans and several new guys. The support we all got from friends, family and genuine folk makes this all possible, with generous help from local folk as well as from people as far away as Minneapolis.
We finish the final prep in the carpark, with the team and supporters meeting and exchanging stories. There’s then a few speeches outside from Senator Linda Nelson Murray, Joe Clancy and Kiaran Tansey from ESPWA, and myself. We all convey our continued support for Ukraine. Father John then blesses all the vehicles and aid before we start our engines and get ready to depart, again.
The convoy rolls out of the carpark, led by the ALP and 2 ambulances. 2 km out at Laracor cross, Mother Hen standing on the verge waves off the vehicles, and a little further on all the lads in McNally’s garage are standing out waving too.
After snaking through Summerhill, it’s on to Kilcock and down onto the first of many motorways we will travel on over the next few days. Heavy traffic at the end of the M50 slows us for a while, but then it’s open roads down through picturesque Wicklow to our first stop at Whitford House Hotel, where we get our usual quality meal before refueling and making our way down to the ferry port.
In quick time, we embark the ferry and settle in for our customary drinks and craic before setting sail. There are a few bumps for an hour or so and then calm waters. The banter is good and the night passes fast, with the last of the lads hitting the sack at 4am. Day 1 is over, and everyone knows it’s the calm before the storm. Challenges lie ahead but we have the confidence to know we can meet them head on.
DAY 2 – Evacuate Dunkirk, the Irish are coming!
Upon checking in on the ferry, I get a massive surprise when I discover that our main contact in DFDS Finbar has generously upgraded me to a deluxe cabin. Loads of room and a TV to boot, I’m delighted. When going on a ‘cruise’, all comforts are welcome.
Early in the morning the first tannoy calls us for breakfast so several of us meet there. There’s calm seas and sunshine, but a wind out on deck that would almost lift you off your feet. Despite all the comforts, we get no real rest on board, but that’s life. 9 pm comes, and we are asked to vacate the cabins for the remaining 1.5 hours. The lads produce a deck of cards and 25’s is the game of choice; I haven’t played this in years but it’s like riding a bike, it all comes back.
The call goes up to disembark, and in no time we are driving off the ferry. It’s then ‘pedal to the metal’ up the motorways out of France, across Belgium via Antwerp and Brussels, and across into Holland. We arrive at 2.45am and have a quick beer before retiring for the remainder of the night. The rooms are first class, and the bed is so welcome and comfy that I sleep through the alarm. The plan for tomorrow is for the ALP and two ambulances to leave early at 8.15am to get ahead of us, so our mechanic crew remain behind them as long as possible. We know diesel prices are very high in Holland and Germany so we’ve brought 20 litre drums from Ireland to level the playing field; it’s ironic to think that our Irish diesel at €2.08/ltr is considered ‘cheap’.
Our convoy rolls into Sevenum, with the final few arriving at 3am. That 3.5 hours is the litmus test of our vehicles, and they all pass. A breakdown on a Saturday night, or indeed Sunday, would mean leaving a vehicle behind, because spares wouldn’t be available anywhere.
Spirits are high among the group and everyone is looking forward to tomorrow, as it is a long drive. Bring it on!
DAY 3 – DFB on the Autobahn
We have a very short sleep before breakfast at 8am. The volunteers from the Dublin Fire Brigade (DFB) are to depart at 8.15am to get ahead of the rest. Soon, everybody is on the road. There’s beautiful sunshine again, just like there was back in Ireland. Muireadhach and Manus are diverted to Düsseldorf airport in the bus to swap out with Darran who is flying in as they are flying home. We schedule our first stop 3 hours out for us all to meet again.
One hour from the stop, we get word that one 4×4 has taken a wrong turn and has driven south to Bonn. This means that Jeep is on its own now, because it’s too far away and we can’t wait so long. As it turns out, it has to drive even further south to Frankfurt before picking up a road to Dresden where we are headed. A long day for us, but a longer day for them.
As it turns out, we have luck on our side and get all the way across Germany to Dresden without any problems. We arrive around 5.30pm at the same hotel we have used previously, and again it is also full of police that obviously use it as their hotel of choice. Once checked in, we meet in the lobby and head into town on a bus to ‘L’Osteria’ restaurant for some good Italian style food. A class meal and a nice drop of wine too.
A lot of craic is had, and the slagging is hilarious at the best of times. When we pass our fire engine and two ambulances on the motorway and see them driving with determination towards Ukraine there’s a lump of pride in our throats. Our convoy includes a bus, a crew cab van and many quality 4x4s, but no doubt the jewel in the crown of this trip is the ALP fire engine. It’s going to do incredible work and is destined to save so many lives. Its final destination is already confirmed, and even though we’re bringing it nearly 300km into Ukraine, it will still have another 1000km to travel. The Mayor himself had volunteered to drive it south, but when the fire service of that city saw the quality and size of it, they dispersed a crew to get it. The crew will liaise with Conor from DFB who will train them to operate it on the spot.
Many of the other vehicles are also designated for special purposes. We have had some very impressive convoys to date, some larger and some smaller, but this one is extra special, bringing our total number of vehicles delivered to 140.
Back at the hotel, we go for a quick visit to the Shamrock Irish pub. Some of the crew stay out a bit longer; it’s no bother as we are going to be departing a little later the next morning to liaise with the arrival of another 3 team members at Wrocław airport. A good night’s sleep is guaranteed as the Ramada was a class hotel.
DAY 4 – Blowouts and the run for home!
We’re up early on Monday morning, getting all the vehicles topped up and checked for oil, and soon we’re on the road again.
We file out through Dresden and we’re soon on the Autobahn again heading for Poland.
Suddenly, a message goes up that Keir has broken down. I then spot him way over on the hard shoulder waving for assistance. Because Paddy and Damien are in front of me, it’s already too late for them to stop. Sean and Bernard are right behind me, and I fear they too will overshoot the runway, but eagle eyes spot Keir and Sean throws out the anchor and stops. Sean, Keir and Bernard are equal to the task; a blowout has the car sitting low on the road. Like a Grand Prix pit crew, the lads have that SUV jacked up and the spare on it in a jiffy. Meanwhile, Carmel is identifying somewhere to get a spare at short notice, and is successful in locating a place where Sean finds a suitable tyre. This is the level of organisation we have honed and perfected with each progressive convoy. There’s no such thing as problems, only solutions.
We pull into a prearranged service station to collect our 3 new arrivals who have made their way there from the airport. On we go to the next stop, where we have a longer break to allow everyone to catch up. It’s 4 more hours to Rzeszow; although it’s not the finish line, consider the bulk of our work done when we get there. This is because we now have the EU crossed and no matter what happens all the vehicles will make it to Ukraine.
After we fuel up and get fed we go on the road to the next pitstop. In a short while we reach it; the weather hasn’t changed one bit since leaving Ireland, and it’s beautiful sunshine all the way.
It’s then confirmed that Sasha has flown into Rzeszów to meet us for a short spell before catching an onward flight. Sasha and Vika are instrumental in the success of our convoys, so it is welcome news to meet her along the way.
Soon I’m rolling into our destination in Rzeszów and there is Sasha framed in the entrance, pint in hand and another on order for me. Back slaps, handshakes and vehicles rolling in over the line, with pints for all provided by Sasha. Then in rolls the ALP and Sasha rushes out to greet it. When it turns around and appears outside the window of the bar he is on top of it waving back at us.
We have a couple of pints and freshen up, and in short time we head into town to the Galway Bay Irish pub for a good dry aged steak. Sasha says his goodbyes and heads off to catch a flight to Dublin. We have a brilliant meal with wine, beer, and another impromptu sing song. Great craic is had by all. We have an early night, because we have an early start to the border and beyond.
DAY 5 – You can go, but you leave the ‘engine’….
Another early start, with arrangements in place to meet our Ukrainian partners at the border at 9.30am. This means we need to get breakfast quickly, and get on the road to our staging point for the last fill of fuel before heading for the border. There’s a quick briefing in the car park to inform everyone new of what the plan is and remind everyone to stick together. Caution is highly recommended; where we are going, the chances of anything happening are slim, but not non-existent. Two places we have visited on recent convoys have been hit recently, an oil storage facility in Brody and a world heritage church in Lviv.
We fuel up all our vehicles, and Fergal distributes tri-colour flags to each vehicle. It serves us well and unites us in pride to display these flags, so we can show who we are and where we’re from. The flags display Irish solidarity with Ukraine; of course, we experienced a similar period in our own history.
All the vehicles line up in order. From this point onwards we are ONE convoy, all together. Nobody gets left behind.
We snake out onto the motorway and head for the border for another 1 hour and 10 minutes, travelling at a low speed to keep us together.
Soon, we leave the motorway and drive through Przemyśl (also known as little Rome). This is the last town in Poland we drive through before the border crossing. Przemyśl itself was hit by a rogue Russian drone when we were delivering our second convoy.
Eventually we roll up to the border and drive up one of the empty lanes to the front.
Vika, Roksolana and Katya are there waiting for us; it’s wonderful to meet again. There’s hugs, backslapping, photos, handshakes, and smiles all around. Now comes the serious part. Vita, Roksolana and Katya explain the importance of letting us through quickly to the Polish border guard. At first she isn’t buying it, and is instead inclined to send us back to the end of the long line. But the group is nothing if not resilient and determined, and they wear her down using every argument in the book. Soon, we are allowed through to be processed. A German convoy of 9 vehicles can’t understand how we manage it. “It’s the Flag,” I tell them with a wry grin.
Soon we are all getting checked by Polish customs. Then we get word that the ALP fire engine is separated and has been diverted through ‘freight’. Alarm bells start to ring. We are all processed and sent on through to the Ukrainian customs and passport control, entirely separated from the ALP. Only through experience and good luck does Roksolana stay with Ken and Jim. This is to prove critical as the saga unfolds
We move out of the crossing point to a prearranged fuel station a couple of kilometres out of town. Firstly, we get word that the ALP is getting through, then that it isn’t, then that it is too heavy and inspectors have to come and examine it. The next word we get is that the Poles are considering fining us €3500for wasting their time. Vika is liaising frantically with Roksolana for updates, I am liaising with Ken and Jim at the same time, and conflicting reports are filtering through.
The day is ticking by, there is still a 300km long drive ahead of us and a ‘rush hour’ in Lviv to pass.
Things are looking bad, and Justin and I are considering making calls to contacts in the government back home to get help.
Roksolana is working her magic, Ken and Jim are arguing our position, time is ticking, then we are told they are going to be let through. Then we hear nothing for a while, until we look around and there is the ALP driving onto the service station forecourt. Cheers erupt; we have our ALP through and we are a convoy again.
We drive on in one long line, leaving the bizarre border experience behind us. We don’t have a care in the world now because we are guaranteed ALL of our vehicles and aid have made it. We roll through the beautiful Ukraine countryside, observing the simple traditions that most of Ireland unfortunately let die in the 80’s.
As I drive, me and Vika have a great conversation. There are beautiful castles up on hills to our right, vast fields seemingly without end, and potato crops in their drills. We are driving up front just ahead of one of the ambulances so we have to pull in on occasion to see if the rest of the convoy is still there.
Excitement is building as we get closer to Brody; we know our reception committee is waiting for us, and we also know that we have something worth waiting for. Led by the ALP, this is one of the most impressive convoys to roll into town.
Soon we are coming up to the town of Brody. As we turn a corner we see the blue lights of the ALP and the ambulances on. There they are driving straight through the middle of the town, horns blowing, tri-colours flying, locals stopping on the sidewalk to observe, smiling and waving.
Our final destination is just out of town a bit; down some country lanes into the woods and beside the lakes. It’s a beautiful oasis of a resort, courtesy of our hosts.
Now the star of the show is asked to perform one final time. The ALP is driven forward to park in an appropriate place so our DFB expert can instruct the Odessa fire brigade crew on operating procedures. Vika acts as translator as Conor explains the functions.
Soon the massive arm and cradle of the ALP unfolds after the ‘jacks’ lift all 26 tonnes off the ground. Both firemen go up as it extends 100ft up into the darkening sky. When they come down the Mayor and I go up. The mayor, who is no stranger to precarious situations when he visits the front, has no hesitation and just jumps in, videoing the landscape from this new angle.
Soon we are back on ‘terra firma’ and we transfer the vehicles to our Ukrainian partners. We take photos of every vehicle and hand the keys over; it’s a poignant moment for us because the bond we’ve formed with the vehicles we drove across Europe is now severed. These vehicles have new missions now; some won’t survive long, and others will have longer lives. It’s a lottery. Ironically, as I observe this, I receive a message from Warren (another volunteer) with a picture of a vehicle from a previous convoy that he’s just spotted driving through Kiev. The tri-colours are still on the doors; I’m delighted to see it.
We are now invited into the reception. There are two long tables in the log-cabin themed ballroom, laden with food. We sit down and the festivities begin. There’s food, drink, speeches, awards, and laughter; it’s a cocktail of joy.
We give and receive gifts, and are happy to present special recognition awards from our Ministry of Defense to 6 of the people in the room. One of these is Tim the paramedic; he spends most of his time dealing with horrific injuries. We are genuinely in awe of him; he’s a young man that has seen too much but carries on regardless, a true hero.
Toasts are proposed. Vitaly is doing his usual thing, refilling the toast glasses with vodka quicker than we can drink them. Wine and beer flows. We send a special message to Muireadhach and Manus as they can’t be there. Eventually, tiredness gets me and I head up to my room, but the party continues into the night. I am asleep before my head hits the pillow. Job done.
DAY 6 – Life in Ukraine, the new reality!
I wake up early with a ‘happy hangover’, and decide to go out for an early walk before breakfast to see the resort in the early morning sunshine. I have a quick walkaround admiring the log cabins, swimming pool and sauna; it’s definitely a place to come back and visit in peacetime, a sentiment shared by many in our group.
I make my way back in for breakfast, with many of our team already tucking in. The celebrity of the morning is the owner’s dog, standing on 3 paws at the door of the restaurant. We are told he has had a recent operation on his 4th paw to fix an injury, and he knows exactly how to milk the sympathy vote, hassling us all for a nibble as we leave.
Soon, we are loaded onto a bus. We are going on a short tour of a couple of sites we’ve in Brody and then we’ll do likewise in Lviv. Our first stop is at ‘City Hall’ municipal building, where the Mayor invites us into his office. On entering, we notice the letter from our Minister of Defence proudly framed on the wall, among a large array of other presentations. Jim Howley walks straight across the room to sit in the Mayor’s chair; The mayor is delighted to oblige, not that he had a choice.
Through the lovely translator, the Mayor then addresses us all, updating us on the current situation. He describes the recent hit by Russia on the local oil storage tanks and the devastation it has caused, such as the loss of one fire engine and the greater losses of local men and women. He follows with the strong belief that it will pass and Ukraine will emerge victorious. I have no doubt they will. We have seen the highs and the lows on previous convoys, and felt the sense of loss and gravity of what is happening. This time, the overriding feeling is optimistic, which is great, but there’s still a job to do and pain to be endured.
After a few photos, we all file back out into the sunshine. We notice on the bus ride that just 50m away is the ‘Alley of the Heroes’, a memorial to all the locals killed in the war. We walk down to it; there’s no need for a tour guide here, it tells its own story. There’s very little talk here, except for an odd question.
Someone asks Roksolana if she knows any of the people, and she identifies the closest one as her uncle. She explains that he was a professional serving abroad in the armed forces. When the war started, he rushed home to help repel the initial invasion, and lost his life doing so. You can hear a pin drop, until a deafening noise in the sky catches our attention. I’m told it’s an F16 bomber jet flying around overhead. This is considered normal.
This is why I do this. It is not outside the realms of possibility that this war will find us, with Putin’s ‘all in’ determination to continue and threats to widen the war into Europe. If Putin is to be stopped in his tracks, we are depending on Ukraine to do it, and given the correct support they are fit to do so, as shown over the last four years. This defense is bought and paid for by the blood of these heroes we are now looking at in the morning sunshine.
A sobering experience.
We all get back on the bus to drive across town to the local hospital. There, we are met by the Doctor in charge, who shows us the new, almost-completed wing. We have a hand in this. Vika and the Sunflower Network, Damien Meaney and the Beacon Hospital, and Kiaran and Joe from ESPWA have their fingerprints everywhere on it. Furthermore, one of the ambulances we have brought and the hospital beds in it are for this very hospital.
Afterwards, we depart and head for Lviv, arriving shortly after 1pm at Vika’s favourite restaurant. The Mayor and his team provide a spread without equal. It’s amazing; on entering the restaurant, we observe a massive fish aquarium as a centrepiece, filled with trout swimming around in a circle. Later, we are served trout upstairs. It’s a beautiful meal, and we relax, laughing and chatting.
We ask the mayor if we can visit the ‘Mars Field’ graveyard again and he happily obliges.
The first thing that happens when you walk into the graveyard is that you lose the will to talk. Silent observation becomes automatic; we look at the graves and at each other with an unspoken understanding of the sadness here. This is underlined by an anger that this has happened and is still happening, for no good reason other than a depraved man’s madness. The wanton waste of these young lives, all denied the futures they envisioned for themselves, is shocking.
We observe a mother tearfully tending her son’s grave, and we touch her on her shoulder to say that we understand her pain. A father explains through our translator that his son was a fine athlete with a bright future.
As we finish our walk around, the Mayor calls us over to say farewell. However, our conversation is interrupted by another funeral procession of fallen Ukrainians being driven to their new place of rest. This is the everyday reality in Ukraine today. It’s unbelievable unless you see and feel it.
We get on our bus and travel through town. I sit up front to converse with Andrij the driver in German. He is an impromptu tour guide, and I tell those around me what he says. To our right is the children’s playground that was hit by a missile, and a little further on is the park also hit by drones. As we drive through the centre, we see a church that was hit three weeks ago in the middle distance. We also see the square where a lady street cleaner famously continued cleaning after a drone exploded close to her.
Like I said, this is reality in Ukraine now, and it’s a reality that gets far worse the closer you get to the frontlines. As we had sat in the petrol station yesterday waiting for news of the ALP at the border, Katya had shown us a video of a drone exploding against the building next to hers in Kyiv.
For everyday Ukrainians, death can fall from the sky any minute. It’ll be a great day for Ukraine and for us when this ends.
We drive on, leaving Lviv behind us, and head for the border. This time, we can look out of the window at life in Ukraine and observe its beauty.
After a while we arrive at the border. I am shocked wordless when the border guard recognises me from the way in and engages in joyful conversation about our convoy. Yesterday, she had been very different; what a difference a day makes!
Soon, we’re back on the bus for the 3 hour journey to Lublin, where we will spend the night before flying home in the morning.
In the morning, we head out to the airport to catch our flight home. Soon we’re on board and in the air, and champagne is introduced, thanks to Darran. We have a bit of craic before dozing off, and before we know it we’re landing in Dublin. There’s goodbyes all around and the team head off in different directions to return to our reality. It’s straight to work for us, straight to the pub for one last hurrah for others, and straight home to family for the rest.
This convoy has been a resounding success, and everyone returns home safe. Thank you for coming on the journey with us.