On September 3, Russia struck a ballistic missile at one of Poltava's educational institutions: according to preliminary reports, 51 people were killed, nearly three hundred were injured, and there are still people under the rubble.
Here is what a medic from the volunteer battalion, "Hospitallers," and videographer Ihor Tkachov wrote about it.
Yesterday, there was no time for reflection, but this horrific day must be described and conclusions drawn.
I live very close to the Communication Institute. The rockets whistled over my house, and we clearly heard the explosions during breakfast. Together with Polina Melnyk, we gathered our things and drove in our evacuation vehicle to help however we could. We were the first ones on the scene—no ambulance had arrived yet, just a State Emergency Service vehicle. Several bloodied bodies lay at the gate. We quickly checked them: blood was flowing from their heads, limbs were intact, but one man had a pierced chest. We worked on them for only a few minutes, not realizing what lay ahead.
Our friend Ihor Stefanchuk, whom we had recently trained in tactical medicine, quickly arrived to help. We ran further, looking for those we could still assist. After that, everything was a blur of bodies, blood, screams, groans, pain, and death.
In front of us stood an old, large ZIL truck, where the injured were simply being loaded. They were placed on rags, blankets, doors, lifted almost above our heads, and thrown into the cargo hold. I didn’t even have time to see what their condition was. When I came back, I just helped load the last injured. There was no more space, the doors were closed, and the ZIL drove through the city to the hospital, packed with people who were dying.
Near the ZIL, there were still dozens of bodies. Emergency service personnel and military were carrying bodies from the destroyed building and courtyard under the trees, where an impromptu triage point had formed. Ambulances began to arrive. People were running around—military personnel, volunteers, and us. Every minute, someone else who was still alive was brought, and every minute we ran from one to another, applying tourniquets. People had up to three amputations—3-4 tourniquets per person. We were sealing penetrating chest wounds with occlusive dressings, performing unsuccessful CPR—some died under those trees at the triage point, some on the way to the hospital, some at the hospital. Officially, 271 injured and 51 dead—it's too much… Damn war, poor people...
We quickly ran out of tourniquets. For the most severe cases, we were shouting, "Doctor here!" The doctors who arrived with the ambulances were clearly unprepared for this: "This is Poltava, it's supposed to be safe." For about an hour, we did everything we could—some we couldn’t save, but we managed to save others. I try never to boast, but I’m sure we saved more than one life this time, so I apologize.
Sad conclusions:
Unfortunately, it seems volunteers may have killed more people in Poltava yesterday than we managed to save. Substandard tourniquets were everywhere, and it seems the only certified, quality ones were ours. A wounded person would be brought in with a tourniquet, but it was a cheap Chinese one, impossible to tighten. We applied our own, but they quickly ran out. When I shouted, "Give me a tourniquet," they gave me a Chinese one, and I died inside along with the people I knew how to help, but couldn’t because someone, not even the enemy, decided to kill them with cheap junk.
Second sad conclusion—almost no one knew how to provide first aid. Some people were applying tourniquets, Chinese ones, but they didn’t tighten them all the way, though at least they were doing something. But there were very few like that. I handed out my tourniquets, but people didn’t know what to do with them.
The doctors who arrived were young girls with long nails, who screamed, shook, and didn’t know what to do, overwhelmed. They were being loaded with severely injured people—missing limbs, convulsing, dying—and they were confused. I saw no tourniquets with them, no organization in the process, nothing. They weren’t prepared for this. As for the State Emergency Service, apart from carrying the injured, I didn’t see much else. Most of them couldn’t help us. I didn’t see any medical kits, maybe some of them applied those Chinese tourniquets—I don’t know.
What we will do:
We will go to the State Emergency Service, find out what they know, and organize training for them if needed. Eventually, we will try to replace their Chinese tourniquets. We will continue to re-equip our evacuation vehicles, next week we’ll have new training, and then we’ll go back on rotation. We will also hold more training for the people of Poltava. If you're from Poltava, you can contact us for training on stopping bleeding—we will teach you!
What you can do:
You can send us tourniquets. Ours have run out, and we will give the extras to Poltava's State Emergency Service.
If anyone can provide Poltava’s emergency service with quality medical kits, please contact them. Today, we will communicate with them, and if they need it, we would like to help. You can donate to our workshop for re-equipping evacuation vehicles for the wounded. And of course, if you're from Poltava, sign up for a bleeding control course!
Don’t stand by—help our paramedics! Support and quality first-aid equipment are crucial to saving the life of every wounded. #Hospitallers #Paramedics #UkraineParamedics #HospitallersUkraine #HospitallersUK #HelpHospitallers #Ukraine #SupportUkraine #HelpUkraine #StandWithUkraine #HelpUkraineNow
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