June 2024, L200 Trix
Introduction and Vehicle Preparation
It has been one year and ten days since my first visit to Ukraine—where the idea was born to help in ways beyond financial support. It’s a good moment to reflect. I expected this to be a long-distance run, but I had hoped for stronger donor support than we have managed to secure. On the other hand, we’ve learned a lot and continue to improve. New ideas keep emerging, diligent volunteers join in, and our assistance is changing things for the better—within our possibilities. Failures didn’t break us, and we keep moving forward.
Thanks to a fortunate series of coincidences and willing volunteers, we managed to secure a suitable vehicle for Unit A0139 of the Artillery Division of the 101st Security Brigade of the General Staff in record time. On Friday, we first met the previous owner of the L200. The car had a solid frame, the engine had recently undergone a timing belt replacement and other repairs, and it had passed a fresh technical inspection. It had minor brake issues and a gearbox oil leak. The front hub for the 4x4 system was missing.
The previous owner used the vehicle only with rear-wheel drive and didn't even have bolts on one of the front hubs—we needed to take care of that. On Saturday, my brother Martin and I went to pick up the car, planning to prepare it for a paint job on Sunday. Martin handled the paint and spray gun and painted the vehicle himself.
Departure and Journey to Ukraine
On Monday, the previous owner arranged for the vehicle’s color to be officially changed to khaki and handled the export license plates. By Monday evening, we had all export documentation ready in Liberec—everything went incredibly fast. Thank you!
What’s great is that we learned something new: from now on, we know how to spray-paint a car while still in the Czech Republic and update its color in the official registry. This might come in handy. The last thing left was to arrange insurance, highway vignettes, and we were ready to set off. We named the car Trix, because it still had dinosaur stickers from the previous owner—including one on the dashboard. “Trix” is the name of a dinosaur discovered in the U.S. in 2013 and later brought to the Netherlands, named after Queen Beatrix.
Thursday – Hitting the Road
On Thursday, we departed for Ukraine—Vasyl from the Liberec region with the Vito van, and I left from the Kutná Hora region with the L200, where we had prepared the vehicle. Before leaving, we cleaned up, installed the license plates, and added a missing bolt to the front hub. We set off at 11:20.
Before Brno, we were delayed over 30 minutes in traffic. We continued through Žilina, Ružomberok, and toward the border. About 60 km before the crossing, we met up with Vasyl and refueled the L200—its tank was empty. I had driven 620 km on one tank.
Just before the border, a Slovak police car lit up its lights and pulled me over. I greeted them in Czech—they seemed surprised, and motioned for me to continue. But then they stopped both our vehicles. Routine road check—vehicle documents. I complied. They told me I had driven 70 km/h in a village where the limit was 50, and that I wasn’t allowed to drive the car—only Vasyl could (since the vehicle was registered to him for export). They let the driver discrepancy slide, but not the speed. They asked whether I had cash and was willing to pay. I humbly replied: “Yes.”
Vasyl went to speak with them, we paid the required amount without further delay or receipt, and we were allowed to proceed.
This kind of “fine” apparently happens often—it’s sometimes about mandatory gear, a missing first-aid kit, or a detachable tow bar not being removed. There’s always something. No receipts, just a quick payment and you're on your way. It seems like an informal “toll” for passing through. But even in such circumstances, the personal commitment to helping Ukraine doesn’t falter.
Honestly, I don’t know if I was speeding. I didn’t have a first-aid kit or a warning triangle (which I later found behind the seat, left by the previous owner), so it was probably inevitable anyway.
Arrival in Ukraine and First Repairs
We reached the border around 9 PM. After about 20 minutes of waiting, they allowed four cars onto the lit border checkpoint on the Slovak side. We underwent car and document inspection, reported the odometer reading and fuel level.
We were fairly lucky—not left waiting too long. Within 40 minutes we moved to the Ukrainian side, where a similar, but quicker, procedure took place. Altogether we cleared the border in under two hours. From there, we had just under 100 km left. We arrived in Irshava around 1 AM, grabbed only the essentials from the cars, and went to sleep.
Brake Problems and Workshop Visit
On the way, the L200 started showing brake issues—a warning light came on. By the time we reached Ukraine, the braking performance was minimal; the pedal sank almost completely. Headlights were also misaligned, shining too high, causing oncoming cars to constantly flash their high beams. Clearly, a visit to the mechanic was ahead.
On Friday morning, we focused on the L200. We unloaded the vehicle and took it to the repair shop. Besides the brakes, we also had to resolve the missing front hub, which is necessary for engaging the 4x4 system.
Diagnosis
By lunchtime, the first updates from the repair shop came in. The brakes turned out to be fine—the hoses just needed replacement. The hub was a bigger issue: the previous owner never used the front axle, had one hub without bolts, and the other without a dust cap. Debris had entered the mechanism, and the drive shaft would need repair.
Parts were ordered and expected the next day. Vasyl managed to find the missing hub, the cap, and other necessary parts from a scrapyard. The workshop would continue on Saturday.
We were set to depart on Sunday with three vehicles: the KIA, the L200, and the Vito.
Night Missile Attack and Final Preparations
In the early hours of Saturday, we were awakened by a loud sound—a missile flying over the Zakarpattia region. It sounded like a low-flying jet plane, and only in the morning did we learn that Russia had launched a massive attack with over 50 missiles and 40 drones targeting energy infrastructure—including areas very close to the Slovak border. While western Ukraine is usually spared from direct strikes, this night was a stark reminder that war is everywhere, just 80 km from Slovakia.
Completing Repairs and Fueling Up
In the morning, we picked up the ordered parts and brought them to the garage. Thankfully, no new issues appeared, so the planned Sunday departure was confirmed. We went to purchase diesel—arranged at a discounted price—and filled up the Vito, KIA, and additional canisters with nearly 300 liters.
Back at home, drone components were delivered for final assembly. Denis and Vlad took charge—converting the dining table and living room into a makeshift workshop.
Camouflage Nets and Drones – The Most Valuable Cargo
Vasyl picked up camouflage nets from the local school, and others were brought from a museum—seven nets in total. That’s an impressive amount considering how labor-intensive each one is to produce.
Camouflage nets are in very high demand—they help conceal equipment and, most importantly, save soldiers’ lives. The number of drones used by the aggressor is enormous, and without proper concealment, the chances of being targeted are high. The nets we produce are tried and tested, color-matched to the current season, and highly effective.
Drone Assembly and a Birthday Celebration
Drones are being assembled in several locations for both security and logistical reasons. In Zakarpattia, they’re finalized and tested. I helped install antennas and connect VTX modules—though I didn’t dare attempt any soldering. Only a few drones were fully assembled due to missing components.
Vlad, Vasyl’s younger brother, tested one of the completed drones, adjusted the motor directions, and got it operational. That day was also Vlad’s birthday—we grilled, toasted to his health, and enjoyed the moment. Given the size of the Andrishko family, it’s quite likely to stumble upon a celebration. 😊
The Most Valuable Piece: Mavic 3T
Vasyl showed me the Mavic 3T drone, which donors in Ukraine had collectively funded. It is the most valuable item we’re bringing on this mission.
Final Repairs and Setting Off
We picked up the L200 from the garage. The timing gear cover was missing, but we managed to borrow one, which we will return later from Prague. Together with Vasyl, we mounted the cover and tried to adjust the front headlights—unfortunately, the adjustment mechanism didn’t work properly, even though the lights were new.
We packed up and went to bed early. In the morning, Michal arrived—he couldn’t come with us due to an injury, but helped drive the KIA to Ivan, who would be our third driver. We had three drivers for three vehicles as far as Zakarpattia. There, Roman and Jura would join our team.
Journey to Central Ukraine
The trip to central Ukraine went smoothly. At one point, Vasyl took a detour to collect additional supplies, which we planned to pick up later. We refueled the KIA and L200, and at the arranged meeting point, Roman and Jura joined us. I remained in the L200, and we continued eastward in convoy.
Along the way, we dealt with some technical issues: a blown headlight bulb on the KIA and a slow air leak in one of the L200's tires, which we reinflated before continuing.
We only stopped briefly—to change drivers or rest. If someone wasn’t behind the wheel, they slept. We stayed in a pre-agreed order, trying to move efficiently. When the roads were good, we drove at the slowest vehicle’s top speed. But in many areas, the roads were in terrible shape, and progress was painfully slow.
Driving at Night and Through Difficult Terrain
Because the L200’s headlights pointed too high, I drove close to the right shoulder to reduce glare for oncoming vehicles. Unfortunately, that meant our Vito driver got the full brunt of high beams reflected off us. On our November trip, we had major trouble with windshield wipers—a small thing, but it made a tough journey harder. This time, everything worked fine. Clear visibility makes a huge difference when fatigue sets in. Staying focused becomes more and more difficult, and we constantly reminded ourselves of the mission: to deliver the aid safely. We knew that far from home, any major mistake could compromise everything.
Arrival in the East – Kharkiv at Dawn
Arriving in the east at sunrise was breathtaking. As the terrain began to roll and morning fog settled into the valleys, it felt like entering a blanket of clouds. The rising sun painted the sky with shades of red and yellow, silhouetting both nature and the industrial towers typical of eastern Ukraine. It was hard to imagine that beyond this beauty lies hell—the front line we were heading toward.
Kharkiv Prepares for Defense
We reached Kharkiv early in the morning. The city was clearly preparing for its defense. Trenches were being dug along the roads, barriers for heavy vehicles constructed, and elevated defensive positions were built, cleverly using the natural terrain. Kharkiv is Ukraine’s second-largest city—with enormous distances to defend. One struggles to imagine how such a vast area could be protected, yet the defenders were clearly ready to fight for every meter of their homeland.
Meeting the Unit, Drone Footage, and Frontline Destruction
We navigated several checkpoints—it was our first time with this unit in this area. We listened to a briefing on the current situation: relatively stable, yet still critically lacking in ammunition and resources.
We viewed up-to-date drone footage from the Kharkiv region. The front was just 18 kilometers away. The footage showed completely destroyed villages—occupiers were systematically annihilating everything in their path.
We handed over the vehicle and additional supplies, including an FPV drone with new components for field testing. Development is ongoing—nothing is static—and constant improvements are necessary for success.
The soldiers were visibly excited to see the Mavic 3T drone—a highly valuable tool. Although it was earmarked for another unit, their interest underscored its significance. We explained that if an official request and donor support followed, we would gladly help next time.
We exchanged mutual thanks. This is not the work of a few individuals, but of dozens—hundreds—of people who went the extra mile to help others.
Delivery to the 3rd Assault Brigade
We continued with just two vehicles to deliver the Mavic 3T drone and additional supplies to a familiar unit—the 3rd Assault Brigade. The vehicle we had delivered to them last year had hit a mine. Fortunately, no one was killed, and the vehicle was repaired, although it's no longer fit for off-road use and now serves in less demanding roles.
As we drove from Kharkiv, we passed through destroyed villages where no one lives anymore. Just three years ago, no one could have imagined such devastation in the 21st century. While we’ve learned to live with this reality, normalizing destruction and killing is not acceptable. We stand with those who refuse to give up, defending their nation, their land—and our shared values.
The soldiers were clearly thrilled with the drone—it will greatly help their operations. The next day we received a thank-you video, which we’ll share once we have permission. We took photos together, documented the handover, and collected signed flags. Then we moved on to Kramatorsk and Sloviansk.
Meeting the Third Unit and Another Loss
The third unit reported the loss of another vehicle we had delivered—“David.” It had lasted nearly a year, which is remarkable. At the beginning of the full-scale invasion in 2022, the lifespan of such equipment was often only a few days.
As with previous units, we discussed the frontline situation. The story was similar—stabilized, but still very difficult. They expressed their gratitude to our donors and volunteers, which we recorded on the flags we brought. We adjusted the seating in the vehicle to accommodate more passengers and started our journey back home.
The Journey Back – Reflection and Friendship
The start of the return trip is usually marked by silence. The tension and responsibility of delivering aid safely lifts, and we begin to reflect on what went well, what didn’t, and what we can improve for next time.
Throughout the journey—both there and back—the atmosphere among the team was warm and supportive. We shared food, took care of each other, and deepened the friendships between volunteers and even with soldiers when time allowed. Despite language barriers, mutual respect, humor, and shared purpose forged strong bonds—bonds that will last and grow stronger with each trip.
A 4,840 km Journey for One Life
Our journey from Prague to Ukraine—through Kharkiv, Izyum, Kramatorsk, Sloviansk, and back—covered 4,840 km in six days. It was our first time traveling to Kharkiv, making this the longest and most demanding mission so far, especially with three vehicles for most of the route.
And yet—if we managed to save even one life as a result, it was worth every kilometer.
The Bus Ride Back – A Journey You Don't Want to Experience
The bus ride from Irshava back to Prague is probably the least pleasant part of the entire mission. Drivers are divided between Transcarpathia, central Ukraine, and Prague. When I bring a vehicle from the Czech Republic, there’s no other way for me to return.
The ride itself is long and uncomfortable, but manageable. However, after everything we’ve been through, you just want to be home with your family. There’s almost no legroom, and after a while, you desperately try to find a position that doesn’t hurt your knees. This was my fourth time taking this route, and I know the worst part is always the border crossing.
The bus usually waits at the border for several hours—a minimum of 3 hours, sometimes 5. I’m convinced that there is no will to speed up the process. Ukraine doesn’t want to lose its citizens, Slovakia doesn’t want foreigners, and on top of that, relations with Ukraine are currently strained, especially in eastern Slovakia.
The border feels like a place where people are victims of the situation, and it’s not a pleasant experience. So the “service strategy” on the Slovak side seems to be: as long and as miserable as possible. It reminded me of something like “female prison guard duty.”
Border Cruelty and the Contrast with Human Dignity
I remembered how differently children are treated in countries like Italy—it would be unthinkable to leave about ten kids in a sealed bus without working windows or air conditioning for four hours. I watched elderly passengers wondering who might collapse first from the lack of oxygen. Fortunately, it was evening, and temperatures were lower.
The bus departed at 15:10. I paid the driver directly for the seat—€35—because we were running late and wouldn’t have made it to the ticket counter. What awaited us at the border was several hours of waiting and humiliation, and I was curious to see how bad it would be this time.
We spent 4.5 hours at the border—about 80% waiting, 20% processing. And there were only two buses ahead of us. The real problem began when the Slovak customs officers arrived. Their approach toward women with children was shocking. It was an experience that felt fundamentally unequal, devoid of respect. We’re supposed to share common European values, but the treatment didn’t reflect that.
A Moment of Reflection on the Bus
In the bus, I overheard a conversation between a father and his wife. Typically, it’s mothers with children who travel to the Czech Republic. The father said he was glad they were leaving, though they clearly cared for each other. It was obvious that their family was being split up by the circumstances in Ukraine. And I thought to myself: I’m lucky I’m not in their position. I haven’t done anything to deserve this luck—but that’s just how it is. And maybe that’s exactly why it’s right that we help Ukraine.
I went to Ukraine to help, but also to receive a lesson in humility—to remind myself that we truly have it good here. Even though we may not have earned it, or perhaps exactly because of that, we should try to help those who weren’t so lucky.
Doubt and Conviction
Sometimes I hear arguments that plant a seed of doubt—arguments based on facts that shake our certainty, voices calling for peace. Some ask: Why continue sending aid to Ukraine, if it only prolongs the war and suffering? If the current approach hasn’t yet led to peace, is this path really still the right one?
Whenever I catch myself reconsidering, trying to see the world through that lens—after all, who wouldn’t want peace?—I always return to the beginning. This situation didn’t start yesterday. It is not a conflict between two equal sides. It is pure aggression by one state against another, and the latter is defending itself.
In such a case, we cannot apply equal rules to both parties. The aggressor, by its actions, has forfeited any right to justification. The only way forward is to reject that aggression. Because if we don’t, we’re essentially endorsing it—and it’s only a matter of time before others adopt the same model. The world would become one vast battlefield.
So if Ukraine is defending the principles of a civilized society and sacrificing the lives of its people, then we should proudly join them in support. It’s a price we ourselves have never had to pay, and now we have the extraordinary opportunity to help from the safety of our homes—supporting brave men and women who chose to resist.
Gratitude
From the bottom of our hearts, we thank all the volunteers and donors who contributed to this journey and helped ensure and deliver aid to the southern front—to the Ukrainian defenders who are not only protecting their homeland, but also our shared values: freedom, the right to a nation’s territorial integrity, humanity, and solidarity with the vulnerable.
We will persevere—because we must. Because we want a better world for our children.
СЛАВА УКРАЇНІ! ГЕРОЯМ СЛАВА!
Glory to Ukraine! Glory to the Heroes!
