in Bakhmout, alongside the Russian legion fighting Putin

To Bakhmout, the earth trembles when the sky is angry. The full moon which still shines in this azure sea does not bode well. Despite the mercury displaying -15°C and gusts freezing the bones and the toes, the day promises to be beautiful and the horizon clear. Good weather, bad omen. “Perfect weather for artillery,” sighs César, one of the soldiers of the unit, which we accompany during a deployment on the front. It is here, near this mining town coveted for months by the private Wagner militia, that a decisive chapter of this war is unfolding. For whole weeks, these mercenaries under Putin’s orders came crashing down on a Ukrainian defense which, despite all the bravery attributed to it, inevitably crumbles in the face of incessant waves carrying the sacrificial souls of cannon fodder in the service of the Kremlin.