EWTN correspondent Colm Flynn recounts some of his recent meetings with Ukrainian refugees and with the Polish people who are selflessly rallying to provide them with aid.

We were exhausted. We had flown from Rome to the city of Wroclaw in the west of Poland on March 1 and woke up at 5am to start the 500km drive to the border with Ukraine. After hours on the road, we came close to the border crossing point known as Medyka. Police blocked the road, but after we showed our press badges, the EWTN Polska van was waved through. 

It was then we started to see, right in front of us, the reality of what we had been hearing about for so many days: all of the people — women, children and babies, walking across the border with rucksacks, suitcases and anything else they could carry. It immediately put things in perspective; if I was feeling tired, just how must these people be feeling, some having been traveling for days, without proper transportation, food or sleep.

The first thing you notice at the border is the lack of men crossing; most seem to be young mothers with children. I stopped some and gently asked if they would speak with EWTN. They told me their husbands, brothers and other men in the family were taking up arms and staying in Ukraine to fight the Russian army. “How brave,” I thought — but also how heartbreaking: heartbreaking for the men who have to see their wives and children leave and heartbreaking for the wives and mothers who have to put on a brave face in front of their little ones and start the long journey across the border, leading their family as refugees. The more I spoke with them and heard their stories — of traveling for days, of the deep sadness of having to leave home, while at the same time trying to smile and joke in front of their children to maintain some degree of normality, comfort and security — I realized how immensely strong and brave these women were, too.

The numbers are shocking: Since the war began, more than 2.8 million people have fled Ukraine. The majority of these, an estimated 1.7 million, have come here to neighboring Poland — on some days, up to 35,000 people cross at borders like this one. Just a few weeks ago they were living life as normal, going to work and school and church, just like you and I. Now, they are far from home, fleeing as war refugees. The displacement is hard to comprehend.

It’s true what they say: In the worst of times, the best in people comes out. We witness this in incredible ways when filming in Poland, both in those Ukrainians who were fleeing, and showing such resilience and strength in spite of their situation, and then in the reaction and compassion from the Polish people themselves. 

Close to the border, we visited a makeshift camp that was filled with tents from various Polish and international humanitarian organizations. Buses ferried a constant stream of Ukrainians from the border-crossing point to here, where they were offered free food, clothes, strollers, SIM cards and help with accommodation. It was, and still is, a huge effort, and everyone is doing the best they can. We filmed at the Caritas tent, and wearing the familiar red Caritas overcoat, I met one of the coordinators, Natasha. “I’ve met people today who could barely speak,” she told me. “A lot of laughing, a lot of crying, a lot of young children.” These workers are exhausted, too, as they have been working non-stop for days. I asked her about the response of the Polish people to the crisis, and she replied, “The response has been unprecedented. It’s been totally amazing. It’s one of those time’s that you’re really proud to be Polish.” 

As we chatted, I saw a car pull up close by, and a Ukrainian woman and her three children got in. I ran over with my cameraman to talk to the driver, who was lifting their bags into the trunk of his car. He was a local Polish man who had come to help in any way he could. “I am taking this family and driving them to Poznan,” said Eric. “How long away is Poznan?” I asked. “Seven hours,” he replied. I was amazed at this ordinary person’s willingness to go so far to help this family, who, until a few minutes prior, he had never met before in his life. “I feel that I have to do this for this family. Also, I am worried that Putin won’t stop with Ukraine and will come to Poland. This is our war, too.”

Some of the refugees have family members and friends in Poland, and so they have somewhere to go. They just need help getting there. For others, though, the future is more uncertain and frightening. But they can find help and shelter, thanks to the charity of their neighboring country, even if it’s in unexpected places. For example, the local supermarket opened its doors to allow Ukrainians to sleep overnight and take what food they need. All along the checkout counters, there are families laying on the ground, some with their little dogs and cats in carrier cases. Volunteers give out teddy bears and toys to the children so as to keep their spirits up. 

We went to a nearby train station. In the terminal hall there was a mass of people moving around. Young volunteers in high-visibility yellow jackets hold cardboard signs in the air with “Welcome Ukrainians” written on them and painted blue and yellow, the colors of the Ukrainian flag. 

Among the crowd there was a familiar and reassuring sight for many of the refugees — a priest. Father Martin is helping to coordinate the Church’s response. He has been coming here every day and told me that the Polish rail system is offering free rail tickets to wherever people needed to go. “Yesterday we sent a coach to Italy, too, and to Germany and the Czech Republic,” he told me. I asked him about the fact that many young Ukrainians, living in Poland, are now heading the opposite way — back across the border into their homeland. “Yesterday I saw a lot of young people from Ukraine who are living here in Poland getting into buses which were heading for the border. I asked one boy where he was going. He was shy and quiet but said he was going to fight. It was really deeply moving to see very young people going to fight in Ukraine,” Father Martin told me. 

Ana is a young volunteer I saw helping Ukrainian families. We got to talking, and I discovered that she is Ukrainian but has been living in Poland for a number of years, after getting an office job. Her parents and husband are back in Ukraine, and she told me that she informed her boss she would not be coming to work until the crisis was over. Instead, she is here every day at the train station, helping the refugees find their way. “My parents are elderly, they went through fear and now are just angry. They want to stay and help our heroic army as much as they can. There is nothing else I can do,” she said. “That’s why I am here.”

I walked outside, past a woman handing out packed lunches, to one of the train-station platforms. Among the many families and groups, I saw one woman standing on her own. I walked over to her with a smile and asked how she was doing. I tell her I was from EWTN and asked if she would mind saying a few words on camera about her journey. She agreed. “I live around 15 km [approximately 9 miles] outside Kyiv, and around our village there were a lot of tanks. Every day I heard the bombing,” she told me. She sounded strong and steadfast, until she started talking about her elderly mother. Then her voice started to quiver. “She told me that I should leave, but that she will stay in Ukraine; and if something happened, I should save myself.” At the end of our conversation, when I asked her what she thinks will happen to her home country, still with watery eyes, she smiled and said, “We will survive. I hope our victory day is near. Please pray for Ukraine.” 

I wished her well and thanked her for doing the interview, at which point she reached out for a hug. Indeed, we should all pray for Ukraine.