Just 50 miles from the Ukrainian front lines, a bustling gas station served as the final civilian outpost. Soldiers mingled with locals, cashiers shouted out orders for hot dogs, and digital screens displayed real-time army donations soaring with each fuel pump transaction. Outside, camouflaged pickups rolled in, and a truck armed with a rocket launcher rumbled by—a stark reminder of the nearby conflict.
No longer just places to fill up, Ukraine’s gas stations have become crucial to the war effort. They offer a brief respite, a glimpse of normal life for soldiers accustomed to harsh rations and relentless Russian shelling. These stations have evolved into powerful symbols of national resilience amidst a grueling conflict, earning a profound place in the hearts of Ukrainians.
On a recent Saturday, at this very station on the main route to the front, Dmytro, a 25-year-old drone unit commander, was enjoying a quick lunch of chicken nuggets. He was on his way to Kyiv to pick up supplies for his team. This gas station in Pavlohrad, an eastern city, has become a regular, almost ritualistic, stop for him to grab a meal and cigarettes when traveling to or from the battlefield.
Dmytro shared that his favorite station was in the fiercely contested eastern city of Kostiantynivka. It had achieved legendary status among soldiers for remaining operational despite intense fighting in the vicinity.
“It felt like the first glimpse of civilization,” Dmytro recounted, preferring to be identified only by his first name due to military security protocols. He described the station, with its shelves full of energy drinks and sizzling sausage grills, as feeling “like Las Vegas” to the weary soldiers.
Since Russia’s full-scale invasion over three and a half years ago, gas stations have evolved into critical wartime centers. They provide essential fuel for generators during widespread blackouts caused by Russian bombardments and act as crucial handover points for volunteers transporting crowdfunded supplies, including pickup trucks, to the armed forces.
The vibrant interior of an OKKO gas station in Kharkiv, Ukraine, proudly displays Ukrainian flags alongside the emblems of various military brigades.
The exterior of a Marshal gas station in Izium bears the scars of conflict, its facade riddled with shrapnel holes.
Ukrainian soldiers are pictured outside a WOG gas station in Pavlohrad, a city in eastern Ukraine.
Within these stations, the atmosphere vividly mirrors a nation embroiled in war. Fatigued soldiers, their faces etched with the strain of battle, speak concisely about the severe conditions on the front lines. The products on the shelves also narrate the story of a society increasingly militarized: romantic novels have largely disappeared, giving way to memoirs by high-ranking generals, and grenade-shaped keyrings now sit alongside practical hunting knives.
These service stations also serve as grim indicators of approaching battles. Boarded-up windows signal an imminent attack, while shrapnel marks confirm a battle has already occurred. Many station walls are adorned with flags and unit patches, poignant mementos left by soldiers en route to the front.
“Today, gas stations stand as a powerful metaphor for Ukrainian society itself,” remarked Kateryna Zarembo, a political scientist who now serves as a medic in the army, during a recent phone interview.
With Russian forces gradually advancing and capturing more Ukrainian territory, these gas stations remain crucial markers, Ms. Zarembo explained. “As long as the gas station remains standing, it signifies that the area is still under Ukrainian control,” she stated, adding, “They represent a kind of pillar of hope.”
Ukrainians have a deep-seated affection for their gas stations. In a nation nearly three times the size of Britain, where air travel is currently suspended, long journeys are a fact of life, and these stations are expected to deliver. Vasyl Danyliak, CEO of OKKO, one of Ukraine’s largest chains, proudly describes their offering as “five-star service with a three-star cost.”
This translates to many stations providing far more than mere coffee and snacks. Shelves display fine wines next to pruning shears and shovels. At a large WOG station just outside Kyiv, a shelf even features bouquets of roses, ready for any spontaneous romantic gesture during a journey.
“Our customers don’t just view us as a business; we’re an integral part of their daily lives,” explained Hennadiy Karlinsky, WOG’s chief marketing officer, speaking from the Kyiv-area station which remarkably opened in 2023 amid the ongoing war. This particular station boasts food stalls offering shawarma, pizza, and sushi, a dedicated children’s play zone, and a spacious lounge with a massive screen for sports viewing. It even caters to Ukraine’s strong coffee culture with a full barista bar and machines dispensing popular beverages like matcha and iced coffee.
“WOG essentially pioneered the idea of enjoying quality coffee at a gas station for many Ukrainians,” Vladlena Rusina, the chain’s operations director, shared with a smile.
Employees observe a moment of silence inside a WOG gas station in the village of Hlubochytsia.
Playful hot dog-shaped pillows are displayed inside a WOG station in Hlubochytsia.
Following Russia’s invasion in early 2022, WOG’s coffee acquired a deeper significance. During the initial weeks of the conflict, it was often the only source of warmth and comfort for civilians escaping the fighting. As the war evolved into a prolonged struggle, the chain initiated a program, donating two Ukrainian hryvnia (approximately five cents) from every hot drink sold to support the army.
This initiative is just one of many ingenious ways Ukrainians have collectively raised millions to bolster their armed forces. OKKO, for instance, contributes one hryvnia to the army for every liter of fuel purchased. To date, the company proudly reports having raised approximately $34 million, which has notably helped fund anti-drone weaponry. Their coffee cups even feature a striking image of a drone engulfed in flames, accompanied by the impactful slogan: “Donation plus. Drone minus.”
Mr. Danyliak, the chief executive, emphasized that the strength of the Ukrainian Army directly correlates with the safety and security of their gas stations.
Many Ukrainian soldiers will readily attest to the special bond they share with OKKO. The reason is straightforward: the chain provides complimentary coffee, tea, and hot dogs to service members at all its locations close to the front lines. Since the start of the war, OKKO has distributed over 12 million of these items to the troops.
This generosity accounts for why OKKO stations in eastern Ukraine frequently teem with soldiers. Tetyana Sikan, 38, who spent more than ten years working at the Kostiantynivka station, remembers soldiers placing large orders for their units. “They would walk in and declare, ‘We need 15 hot dogs,’” she recounted. “Or, ‘We need 30 Americanos with milk, five without, and one double espresso.’”
“They would grab their coffee and hot dogs and deliver them directly to the front lines,” Ms. Sikan added.
The station’s popularity among soldiers was so significant that President Volodymyr Zelensky himself visited multiple times. He engaged in conversations with troops and even signed a Ukrainian flag, which was subsequently displayed prominently at the station.
But alongside these lighter interactions, Ms. Sikan often witnessed soldiers returning from the front lines in a state of profound distress, “dirty, wounded, and torn up.”
Tetyana Sikan, 38, is pictured at an OKKO station in Dnipro. Having worked for over a decade at the Kostiantynivka OKKO station, Ms. Sikan noted she could accurately “trace the dynamics” of the battle by monitoring the explosions in the vicinity of the station.
Andrii, a 35-year-old infantryman, is shown at the OKKO station in Pavlohrad. He mentioned his unit was being redeployed from the quieter northern front to the more active southern sector.
She vividly remembered one particular group of eight. “They were covered in dirt, some with visible wounds, others with makeshift bandages. They even carried some of their injured comrades,” she recounted. “I’ll never forget how they rushed into the restroom, and in the entryway, they just gulped down water straight from the tap.”
The constant flow of soldiers provides a unique window into the front-line situation. At the Pavlohrad OKKO station, Andrii, a 35-year-old infantryman, explained he was being moved from the northern sector—where Russian assaults have lessened—to the south, an area where the military anticipates a potential Russian offensive.
Andrii shared that his unit, originally 44 strong, had been reduced to just six men. He somberly stated that some “were wounded and sustained permanent disabilities,” adding, with a lowered voice, that for the others, “well, you understand.”
Ms. Sikan herself could gauge the ebb and flow of battle through the explosions heard around the station. Initially, they were infrequent. But as Russian forces drew closer to Kostiantynivka, the sounds became so constant that she learned to differentiate between outgoing Ukrainian artillery and incoming Russian fire.
To counter the escalating dangers, the station staff boarded up windows and reinforced walls with sandbags. When Russian forces approached within 10 miles of Kostiantynivka a year prior, Ms. Sikan made the difficult decision to leave. Yet, the station remarkably maintained operations with a reduced team and limited hours, even as Russian troops partially encircled the city.
However, on May 28, tragedy struck: a Russian drone strike completely destroyed the station. “So many memories, so many moments lived,” OKKO lamented on social media. “The story has ended.”
A stark scene outside a WOG gas station in Hlubochytsia, Ukraine, features a burned vehicle loaded onto a trailer.
Dmytro Yatsenko also contributed to the reporting of this story.