In reply to Stampie :
Thank you so much!!! Hoping too
about my danger level... well... there isn't russian army in my city and it's good news, but danger is very near
i hope that military action don't reach us and i still stay here while it's possible
In reply to DarkMonohue :
yes, of course 
In reply to VikkiDp :
Thank you! Here's the (internet translated) English version:
Bill, Amazon delivers in Hungary right? Thinking that we could support Vikki's friend in Budapest with an Amazon wish list, maybe it'll take some admin burden off of you.
VikkiDp said:In reply to Stampie :
Thank you so much!!! Hoping too
about my danger level... well... there isn't russian army in my city and it's good news, but danger is very near
i hope that military action don't reach us and i still stay here while it's possible
As long as there's a clear path, I can make the drive in one jump. I can even load up with supplies and drop them off when we pick you up. But you're going to have to do the driving on the way out, I'll be exhausted 
Seriously though, stay as long as you need but don't wait until it's too late to leave. We can still do a lot of work from here, but we can't do anything if you can't get here.
Ok, it's the 25th which means we've sent Mayor Kozma our monthly Kisgorbo donation!
After the money we sent to assist Carrie in her purchase for Ira's art supplies, we were able to send 500,000huf (approximately $1500USD) towards keeping the shelter up and operational 
It's "Orthodox Easter" this weekend, and the weather has been warming up. It looks like they're making the best of it out there:
My eldest reports that 8 Ukrainian children are now in attendance at his school. One kid "Nikola" is in his class (4th grade). Unfortunately none of the new children speak English or Hungarian, but his teachers do speak a little Russian so some communication with the new students was possible.
It worked for a bit, but none of the local children speak Russian so communication on the playground wasn't possible at all. The kids being the kids, they made "translator sheet" to try to help in that department:
On it are things like "Hi", "Yes", "no", "please", "thank you", "futbol", and "paper airplane". We printed one for everyone in the class (teachers included), and he reports that it's been working great. We're about 4 days in at this point (he even gave me a copy to take with me to Ukraine).
Good stuff.
Unfortunately, we haven't yet learned where the parents of the new children are staying or if they need anything. We're not pushing very hard in that department as we want to be respectful of their privacy, but we're also certain that the local Reformative Church and the Order of Malta were well prepared (we dropped of LOADS of donations to them well in advance) and are involved with anything they may need. More to follow there, I'm sure.
I was super bummed I couldn't be there to deliver the art supplies to Ira in person, but I knew Carrie would be stoked to have the opportunity. To give a bit of background: Carrie is an art/music teacher at our local international school, and she's been a super big part of everything leading up to this point. She was the one that organized the food drive for us, and she's made TONS of donations to the various shelters we've been supporting. So when I couldn't go in person, I knew she was someone we could turn to for help.
With that being said, she's told me that she'll be "away" for the summer and want's to make sure Ira and the other student shelter in Budapest have enough to keep them supplied while she's gone. She's already loading up with more supplies, and is planning another food drive at school. So Vikki, if you talk to Ira please let her know she should probably expect another (bigger) delivery from Carrie in the near future 
In reply to szeiz4cookie:
I'm currently working with Katie to get an amazon wishlist going for Ukrainian Humanitarian aid, but am certain I could add Ira's art supplies to it as well. Unfortunately, Mrs. Katie only has a couple months left at this location so we're only going to be able to keep the wishlist open until about mid-May.
In reply to everyone:
Guys, I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed by everything you've accomplished throughout all of this. And I know we're just getting geared up. As I typed up this update I got to thinking about the network we've established, all the areas we're now able to help, and all the new friends we've made along the way. My brain tells me that none of this should be possible, and I still have a hard time believing it is. There's something in the members of this community has made our efforts so much bigger than just the sum of our parts and I don't think I'll ever be able to express how grateful I am to each and every one of you for all you're doing. You guys are awesome, and I owe you a huge debt of gratitude for all for making this possible.
Thank you all so much.
You are the one doing all the heavy lifting sir. We are just trying to do our part with some cash and the interwebz. Think of how we make our next impact as there has to be ongoing needs to be met.
Eastbound and Down. GRM's First Trip to Lviv:
The truck was packed the night before. Snack bag, coffee thermos, toiletries, clothes, donations… even a compass and a paper map. We’ve got everything printed out in triplicate, and every box has an inventory inside of it. Everything is labeled and translated as best we could, I marked the truck “Medical Supplies”, and at exactly 3:30am the next morning Mrs. Hungary says “hey, have you looked at your car insurance recently?”.
Crap… It’s been multiple weeks of stressful coordination trying to get addresses, connections, and all the donations together (I don’t even have a hotel yet by this time) and never did it dawn on me to check my vehicle insurance. Of course it’s expired…
We get on the provider’s website and it won’t take my login info. Somehow, after enough clicking of links in my Gmail account, we get somewhere that lets us pay. But when we do we don’t get a new insurance card to print. Not knowing what else to do, we screenshot the receipt and just cross our fingers that no one is going to question it.
Our departure is an hour late at this point.
Since the border Hungarian/Ukrainian border was closed to our efforts, google tells us that we had two options available. Both cross the border at Poland. Route 1 is shorter in KM, but route 2 is shorter in time. I opt for the shorter by KM, and am counting on my ability to drive the wheels off the truck to save on time. That was kind of a mistake.
The route takes me on the big M-ways through Hungary and beyond Bratislava, but quickly devolves into one-horse mountain roads. Chicane after chicane, I’m forced down to a crawl while I navigate steep inclines, poor road conditions, and oncoming traffic. I quickly realize that this route is not going to be possible come winter time (4-wheel drive or not).
Despite the setbacks I’m still relatively on schedule. Short stops for “gas and go’s” keep me moving, and facilities appear often enough that I can run my tank down to under a quarter before I feel the need to fill up. This becomes a dangerous habit and is about to bite me in the butt.
Eventually I get out of the mountains and on to the A4 in Poland. After the B-road blast, being back on the M-way makes me want to shout “FREEEEEEEDOMMMMMMMMMMMMM!”. The last time I filled up was somewhere in Slovakia, but now I’m passed Krakow and am completely finished with the “northern part of my journey”. I am now “east bound and down!!!!” (and yes, I am singing Jerry Reed at the top of my lungs).
Still scootin down the road at a good clip, the last time I pass a gas station I notice am just under a half tank. That, it turned out, was the last gas station before the border. For the next 140km’s I’m watching helplessly as my gauge goes lower and lower with no relief in sight. Punching up the GPS, I search for nearby fuel facilities. It tells me the nearest one is 2-hours away, and completely off my path. I know that can’t be right, so I trudge on.
Back in Slovakia I would see the occasional billboard painted with the Ukrainian colors, or other sign of support. But it’s about here and on this bottleneck of a Polish highway that I really start to see the first signs of things to come. Two separate convoys of military flat-bends, completely empty of whatever cargo they once had, were heading west in the opposite direction. The electric road signs here now read “Ukrainian Assistance, call ####-####”, and I see the first van labeled “Humanitarian aid”.
The poor guy. I didn’t see him before I hit my horn in excitement. He was doing 100kph in his green Sprinter van to my 130, and looked BORED to death. He was mid-yawn when I startled the crap out of him with my honk and a wave. I passed him so quick, I couldn’t tell you what his response was.
Ah well. At least now he’s awake.
Somewhere after that, and very close to the border, I see a BMW with “#CloseTheSky” hand written on its back window (a very professional looking man driving it). A blue box truck is ahead of him, being led by an army green Opel SUV, both with red crosses done up in tape on their sides (I’ll end up parked next to these guys for several hours, but we don’t share a common language so it was just a lot of hand gestures and shrugging).
I hit the border around 1pm and see a line of cars that just seems IMPOSSIBLY long. We’re talking multiple KM’s here… At the end of it are two Polish police officers, and one speaks a little English. “Where are you going?”
“Lviv, Ukraine”, I respond and I hand her the customs paperwork that VikkiDp sent me. It’s got the basic stuff like “name”, “destination”, and “vehicle info”, but it also has the complete inventory of all the stuff boxed up in the back. The officer gives it a glance and points me left, completely bypassing the long line of cars. YASS!!!! (I make a mental note to thank Vikki for this later: Thanks Vikki!)
Up at the front it’s the typical customs dance. They’ve got several lanes open, and me and the car behind me get one that’s usually used for busses. We open all the doors for a quick inspection, and again VikkiDp’s inventory gets handed over. They open one or two boxes, and send me on my way. I make it about 50-meters before I have to merge back into a lane that’s completely stopped in traffic.
I mentioned earlier, there’s that blue box-truck and his buddy in the green Opel. We’re now stuck in traffic together with me in a position to merge in right behind him. Except everything’s completely stopped… and we have no idea why…
At first we do the usual stuff. Get out our phones, stretch, the whole deal. Except I’m kinda nervous about that “low on gas” situation. I’m down under an eighth of a tank and the needle is starting to touch the “e” line. I can see on my GPS that there’s a gas station on the other side of the border, but if this turns into “stop and go” traffic I’m thinking I might have to get out and push.
My next concern is with my phone. Without the truck running, I’m draining my battery. I don’t dare turn off my google-map route as I know I don’t have a data connection there. As long as it isn’t shut off, my GPS will continue to work as it should. If it does shut off then my position wont update and… well… that’s what the map and compass are for.
I turn my phone screen off to save any battery I can, but I’m careful not to close my route plan. Luckily I brought a book with me (Isaac Assimov, “Foundation’s Edge”). I eat a snack and rehydrate. Then I fall asleep.
It’s hard to sleep at the border as any time I hear a diesel engine fire up, I jolt myself wide awake expecting to have to move, but we never do. I send off an SMS to my Hospitallers connection in English to let her know I won’t be there tonight. Normally we communicate through google translator on Whatsapp, but without data I’ll just have to hope that she’ll copy and paste my message.
At 4:30, the line starts to move. Engines are fired up, but I’m waiting to start mine. I don’t want to risk wasting gas on a “false positive”. Not too long after, I see the first signs of movement. We are now “Oscar-mike”.
Coming up to the Ukrainian side they can inspect multiple vehicles in each lane at one time. It looks like they advance, inspect, then send out the cars in groups. I can see that I’ll be the first car in the next group for my lane. I can also see an American soldier in fatigues chatting up a female border guard to the left.
I can’t hear everything that he’s saying, but I can hear his accent. 100% American. I decide if there’s a break in the action, I’m going to give him a shout and let him know that there’s a fellow countryman in the area. What are the chances?!
The first group is closing up their cars, and I can tell the American is wrapping up his conversation. I’m in gear and about to move when I catch the break I was looking for “Hey buddy! I’d recognize an American accent anywhere!”
(Pause for blank/surprised stare)
“Hey… Hey!” he starts, “Can you give me a ride???”
“Your passport clean? No issues?”
“yeah!”
“Hop in!”
Unfortunately this causes a little bit of an issue for us at the entry. I had one person in the car when I left Poland, and now I have 2 people in the car when I’m entering Ukraine. Luckily the border guard saw what happened and is a little irritated at the two of us, but she’s helpful. But still, we do need to go talk to the supervisor so my truck gets parked to the side.
Inside the supervisor is briefed on what happened by the guard (speaking Ukrainian), he asks us in English who we are “Volunteer”, I say. “Legion” my new friend says. The supervisor goes in his office while we wait in the hall.
“Crap man, what the heck is goin on…” he starts. “I’ve been trying all day, they’re not going to let us it…”
“Hey man, don’t worry. I’ve done this tons. Everything works out in the end with these things. If it hasn’t worked out yet, it’s because it isn’t the end”.
The guard comes out and tells the soldier “You’re listed as a casualty”.
This is where I learn the soldier’s commander died while the soldier was out of country. The guard asks if someone can verify who he is, and a call was made. Ukrainian was spoken over the phone, and we’re on our way.
See? Everything works out in the end.
“So what were you doing there at the border?” I ask.
He was trying to get back in to the country but wasn’t having much luck. They didn’t want to let him cross without transportation on the other side (bus, car, train… something). He said he was completely exhausted from trying to get this far from Poland and was in the process of turning back west to give up and drown the whole thing in beer when an air-raid siren went off and shut everything down.
“Is THAT why the border was locked down???”
“Yup”
“Funny” I tell him. I was so low on gas I wasn’t sure I was going to make it. I was already an hour late in leaving and then I was stuck at a border for 3 hours. I knew I wouldn’t be able to make my drop time for all my stuff, and that was the whole reason I was driving this far in the first place. My phone battery was draining because my GPS was still working but I couldn’t start the car to recharge it. I was about to turn around when the border opened and I heard an American talking to someone…
“See? Everything works out in the end.” we laugh.
We get gas at the gas station (“Benzin” if you ever need to ask for it). Luckily it is RIGHT after the border. The soldier offers to pay, and goes inside. I have a bit of a rough go at the pump as pumping gas here isn’t like any of the processes I’ve used before, and the attendant is getting kind of irritated at our inability to communicate (me telling him a guy inside is paying. Him trying to explain the process. Neither is met with any success)
Side note: If you ever go to Ukraine, the process is as follows:
Put pump handle in vehicle. Click on, to allow flow.
Note: No fuel flow at this time
Go in and pay for the quantity you want.
Come back out to flowing fuel pump.
We don’t get this right away. Our friend failed inside (because he called the benzin “gas”), and I completely failed outside because nothing was happening. We were engaged in some mutual head scratching when a woman stepped in and lent a hand. She spoke Ukrainian to the station attendant, and then she spoke perfect English to us. This was a person who must have spent quite a bit of time either in the US or around us Americans because she had no accent at all.
Eventually we get sorted (everything works out in the end, right?), and now the attendant is over trying to talk to a Norwegian ambulance crew. Yeah, you read that last part correctly. While waiting at the border for so long, I had a chance to look around. In the queue were several ambulance crews, lots of aid vehicles, and of course people like me bringing stuff in their POV.
Seeing what’s about to transpire, I step in: “English?”, I ask them.
“Yes, English”
Good. Here’s what he’s trying to tell you. Put the pump handle in your tank, and click it on….
When I’m done, the previously irritated and shouty pump attendant gives me a pretty big smile. We’re friends again (I see him again on the way out, he remembered me).
But, man. Remember when TJL and VikkiDp were talking about there being more “good people out there”? Well we’ve all been stuck at that border for what was a LONG time, and everyone needs to stop to stretch and recharge. Of course the first gas station in line is where we all go, and when we do…
It turns out that very vehicle in that queue was loaded to the roof with supplies. I mean I looked back at the border it was just a bunch of sedans and mini-vans sitting in line, but when everyone got to the gas station and opened their doors to get out and stretch you can just see that EVERYONE is bringing ANYTHING they can into the country (and I mean EVERYONE). Food, toiletries, even the army green Opel is PACKED with empty animal crates… I take a minute to take it in while my new passenger grabs a bite to eat from inside. There must be metric tons of humanitarian aid, just at this one gas station!!
Pretty damn amazing, I tell you what. Watching those doors open was like watching a desert bloom after a big rain. “Life” just appeared out of nowhere, and all of a sudden it was everywhere.
Anyhoo. His name is Blaine, the soldier. He’s 23 and was out of country getting medical care in Poland after getting shot in the chest. I don’t get all the details and can’t remember the battle he was in, but he was wearing his plates (armor). He simply says, “We were advancing on a position and it was my turn to move. When I moved from my position I was hit by a sniper round and fell backwards. My friend Angry Face dragged me to cover and told me to get up and stop being a little b*tch” (we laugh).
Apparently while he was out receiving medical treatment someone in his unit stabbed their commander. Something about “PTSD” he said. I guess he knew the guy who did it, but as a result almost everyone in the unit was written off (hence the reason he was listed as a casualty”).
We talk a bit. I’ve been in and around the military enough that I can chat without touching on too many nerves. Still, the stories he’s got from his brief time on the front… dude…
Anyhoo, he never told me why he joined the legion, but he does tell me he’ll be offered Ukrainian Citizenship after the war is over.
"Are, you going to take it?” I ask.
No. He likes the place, but when the fighting’s done he’ll leave for home.
We talk a bit more and he asks if I can drive him to Kharkiv. I can’t. He offers to pay, but I still have to decline. In the end he makes a phone call to the same guy he called back at the border. A train will take him east from Lviv. From there, he can be routed back to his unit in Donbas. It was at a hostel in Lviv we parted ways, “good luck man. Give ‘em hell, and come back safe”.
After that, I’m back on track to go look for the Hospitallers location. I have their address, and directions from the border, but the trip to the Hostel has me off course and my GPS can’t update. No problem, I’m pretty good at “dead reckoning”. I point myself in the general direction and am soon back on track. I get to my delivery spot around 7pm. It’s a bus/truck depot.
There’s a man outside and I pull out a logo I had printed from the Hospitallers site (pictures, I’ve learned, are worth a million words in these cases). He takes me around the side of the building, knocks on a door, and a rather groggy looking young female answers. I show her the picture too. “yes. Yes. Hi” she says.
“You speak English!!!!”
She does. I apologize. It wasn’t my intention to disturb her, I simply wanted to get my bearings for tomorrow so I can drop stuff off.
“Yes yes, tomorrow! I’m sorry, but I have an injury from the war so I can’t help you. But tomorrow I’ll have men here. Lots of volunteers.”
It’s settled then. I’ll pop in at the hotel at the end of the street and I’ll see her at 9am. I love it when a plan comes together.
At the hotel I’m told the room will cost 585 Hryvnia for the night, and I hand over my card. The lobby is also a restaurant/bar and I’m already eyeballing the beer cooler to my right while my information is recorded. I’m going to drink so many of those damn bottles. You’re all as good as empty, and you don’t even know it…
Card doesn’t work.
“Euro?” I ask, pulling out a 100 from my wallet.
Sorry, no.
Ok. Off to look for a bank machine (bankomat).
I drive west back towards the outskirts of Lviv. It’s a little town called (omitted), and it has one main road, with a lot of small businesses on either side. I noticed it on my way out and can’t think of a better place to go Bankomat hunting (especially since I have no GPS for assistance).
In my “bankomt searching”, I’m stopped at checkpoint and the guard inspecting the truck speaks English. The poor guy, he keeps apologizing to me but I keep telling him “no problem” and do whatever it is he asks (open doors, glove box, etc). Eventually he hands me back my passport and apologizes again.
Instead of saying “no problem” again, I say “Hey man, maybe you can help me. Where can I find a bankomat? I need paper money.”
“100-meters up, and take a right” he says with a chuckle.
“Beautiful, thanks!” and I’m on my way.
I follow his instructions and end up at an ATM machine, but the screen is blank. The buttons make noise if you press them, but no way am I putting my card in without seeing some action on the monitor. The search continues….
I end up back at the end of town and there’s another nice looking hotel. I figure maybe I’ll try there with my card and go inside to ask for a room. Immediately we run into the language barrier.
“English?” I ask.
“ni, ukrayinska i spanyolul” she responds.
“tu saves espanol???”
“si”
And just like that we’re talking in Spanish in the middle of Ukraine. It’s hilarious to me because I use “spanyolul” when I want to tell someone I speak another language but don’t want them talking to me (no one here speaks Spanish). It’s funny to her because she was doing the same thing with me and I called her bluff. Both of us have a “first-year” grasp on the language, but both of us understand each other perfectly. It’s hilarious, and we’re laughing non-stop while we butcher the language. It’s a nice change in the pace of the day.
Anyhoo, the card machine doesn’t work here either but she gives me a key. “Go to the room, drop off your stuff. Come see me when you have your paper money. “ she says.
So I do. I had to walk through the entire town and try every machine but I eventually come to one that works. I pull out 1000 Hyrvnia and pay 600 for the night (I later google it. 600hyrvnia is $20 USD).
That night, I move on to the second part of my mission. I brought with me a short-wave radio to test out in the area. There’s a guy back in the states that wants to ship “a truckload” of these but needs boots on the ground to verify operation. I got the make and model from him before I left, and I fire it up to see if I can catch the BBC transmissions.
If this works, the radios would provide the Ukrainians with free access to western news. With the cell/internet network out of commission in the conflict areas, these could be a nice break from the Russian media being pumped in from the east.
Failure… I got nothing but static. I double check the times, and the frequencies I’m supposed to be monitoring, but nothing gives.
Not knowing if it was me or if it was the radio, I google a few Ukrainian frequencies. One of them, a Vatican one, works. Definitely not me or the equipment. Maybe we’re just too far west.
After that it was off to sleep. I was woken up a few times by the air-raid sirens, but didn’t pay them much mind. The Russians always seem to be flying something over here to trip the alarms. Besides, it’d be pure random chance if anything hit near where I was sleeping (and nothing does).
The next morning I’m up and at it early. 6am rise and shine, followed by 7am vehicle prep. That darn oil leak went away after my last oil change, but it came back at the border. By now, I’m a full quart low.
No problem as I brought a quart of oil with me, but still... I should give that a look. In the truck I have a set of linemen’s pliers and figuring it was better than nothing, I go underneath and try a few bolts. One or two of my oil pan bolts were barely finger tight. The pliers aren’t remotely close to being the correct tool, but they do the job (I checked when I got back. No more leak.)
After that, it’s the usual checks. Tire pressure, fluids, and a general walk around. I need to sort the boxes a bit before I meet with the Hospitallers. They’re only taking about half of the stuff in the truck and of the 6 boxes I have of medical gear, only one of them is theirs.
By 8am I’m back on the road. The drop off point is a literal 2-minute drive away, but I want to get there early in case the volunteers are there. It’ll be great if I can shoot the breeze with them and get on the road. I’ve got a 10-hour drive ahead of me and every minute helps.
When I get there, the place is exactly as I left it. Locked up solid. I decide to kick around a bit.
By 9am the place is still devoid of any life so I try the gate. It’s open, and a new guy walks out of the building at the same time. “Hospitallers?” I ask.
I don’t have my picture this time but using hand gestures, I’m trying to show him that I know where to go but he seems reluctant. Even more so when we get to the door. “knock knock”
The same (rather groggy looking) young lady answers. Apparently there was confusion then about when I was supposed to return. It wasn’t supposed to be today because it was Easter and she gave everyone the day off. I’m completely exhausted by this point, and don’t make any effort to hide my body language. I just slump over.
She says something to the man and goes back inside. The man asks me to follow him back to the front. He opens the gate and lets my truck in. Then he opens the bus depot and helps me unload. We shake hands, and part ways.
I was supposed to have this done yesterday. I needed this morning to go look for a hospital in town (I had a military hospital in mind) where I could drop the rest of this stuff off at. It’s 9:30 at this point and I have a 10-hour drive. I just don’t have the time to go hospital hunting, so I point west and hope for the best.
It’s a bit more than an hour to the border, so I have a bit of time to ponder. If I can’t go to a hospital to make a delivery, maybe I can find someone who can! I think back to what I saw at the gas station at the border and decide I’ll look through every parking lot on the way back. The first parked car with humanitarian aid decals is getting all the goodies. Just like that my motivation is restored.
Of course I don’t see anything right away, but that’s to be expected. The closer we get to the border, the more likely it will be that I see someone. To fill the time in between, I decide to roll down my window and give people driving a “thumbs up” if they’ve humanitarian aid decals.
The elderly couple in the Land Rover Defender. 4-boxes on their roof rack?
Thumbs up.
Three semis in a row, all sporting red crosses?
Thumbs up.
And so it goes until I get all the way back to the border. Not a single parked car at any of the gas stations looked like they were hauling goods. In a last ditch effort, I pull in to that first gas station I stopped in yesterday…
Nothing.
There’s an NBC news van, but the dude outside of it is pacing back and forth and overall just looks like he does not want to be approached.
I get a cup of coffee and walk around the parking lot, trying to act casual.
Nothing.
In fact… Aside from a blue station wagon with a bunch of random boxes in it, no one seems to be headed in my direction.
This sucks, as I really did NOT want to haul those boxes back but what else can I do at this point? I finish my coffee, start the truck, put it in reverse, and as I look over my shoulder to back up I see a man standing next to that blue wagon!
I pull up and put on my best effort to not look like a crazy person. “English?” I ask.
His wife speaks English, and eventually I’m able to explain to a very reserved man that I have 5-boxes of medical equipment. I missed my drop because of a delay at the border. I’m heading home to Hungary. I don’t want to haul the boxes back with me. I didn’t mean to look, but I saw he had boxes too. Can he take my stuff to wherever he’s going?
“Do you have any paperwork”
(Vikki’s papers save the day again)
He opens a box. I show him the insides, as well as the inventory sheet I have for each one.
He opens another box. Same thing.
“and you want to sell us these?” His wife asks.
“No. I want to give you this. Free.”
“And you want us to go to a military hospital or a civilian hospital?” She asks.
“Anywhere where it will help. Wherever you are going.”
I’m very patient and am letting the husband do his thing. Eventually he smiles. He motions for me to follow him to his car. He opens the back, and then opens a box. It’s full of medical supplies.
All the boxes are full of medical supplies.
My turn to smile.
It turns out that he and his wife own a pharmacy in Poland. They loaded up their two personal vehicles with supplies from their store and were heading to Kyiv to donate what they had. They would be 100% happy to add what I have to where they’re going.
We Tetris the crap out of their boxes, and just manage to squeeze the five of mine in (they had to move their spare tire to their passenger seat!). To celebrate, they gave me a cake.
And just like that, everything worked out in the end.
On the way out, I was approached by some Ukrainian soldiers. Two men, and a young woman. They were armed and they had what I thought was a drug dog with them. The woman spoke English:
“We want to board your truck”
“oh, go ahead” as I start to get out. “Do whatever you need to do.”
“No, I don’t think you understand. We want to bought your truck. For Army.” (She’s asking, but I can tell she’s serious)
“oh.” My heart sinks as I look back at the Toyota. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“It’s for Army.” She says again. I think I hear a bit of emotion in her voice.
I’m out of the truck while we’re talking and the driver’s door is open. She has an open view of the inside and in the mix of paperwork that is the border crossing, the Hospitallers paper with their logo has made its way to the top on my passenger seat. I don’t know if she saw it or not.
“I know. I’m sorry. Uh…” (How do I say this?) “I promise. The truck is helping.”
…
“I promise.”
She turns to her companions and translates. They nod like they understood, and we’re on our mutual ways.
The drive home is uneventful and Mrs. Hungary and I talk when I get back. She’ll be leading the next run, and we’re talking like I might join her. It’ll be multiple vehicles this time, and we’re going to host a fundraiser in town in May to hopefully fill them to the brim. That should give us plenty of time to order things online (the sort of stuff the Hospitallers need, but aren’t carried through normal channels) and get them delivered.
June 18th will be the date. If you want in on the action, just send me a message to let us know.
(Edit from 3 days in the future: I've just learned that the warehouses for these donations are often being targeted by missile strikes. I've chosen to redact the name of the village in the spirit of OPSEC)
Back in Poland. Westbound and up.
By the numbers, we delivered:
And finally:
Home sweet home (with cake)
Prologue:
I spent a lot of time during the drive back reflecting back on the troubles I had, the whirlwind of experiences, and just how exhausted I had been with everything. No one gets it right the first time, and I’m definitely no exception. Just getting to the point where the truck was packed and had an actual destination took weeks of constant effort (I didn’t even have my route finalized until Friday night!). Not getting to deliver everything would have been incredibly frustrating and, for a while there, it was beginning to look more and more like that was going to be the case. But then I began to think about how fortunate I was to be in the position I’ve been given:
At the end of the day, I get to leave.
Visiting Lviv was just dipping our toe into a world that an entire country is completely immersed in. The place is an amazingly peaceful and beautiful city that’s marred by the constant threat of attack and is constantly disturbed by air raid sirens, (As I’m typing this, I can see that 45-minutes ago it was victim to two missile strikes). But for me, at the end of my drive? I’m going to go home to my wife and children. I get to go back to my “normal life”.
If I’m late because I had to go looking for hospitals, then I can still wake my family up and let them know I’ve returned safely.
If I had to stay another day to make a delivery, I can call my boss and tell him I won’t be in on Monday.
The people we’re helping… Here and back in Hungary… they don’t get to do any of that.
Volume up:
Amazing Bill. Enjoy that cake.
Bill thanks for the play-by-play, and the pictures. I'm choking up. Sounds like so many great people. Thank you again.
Call the BBC office in Hungary , they can tell you what frequency they are broadcasting on and what language ,
not sure if they are still doing Shortwave , but when I was traveling it was on 49 meter band ,
BBC has made many of the broadcasts in Western Europe Internet only , but I am pretty sure they still have "AM-FM" channels too
Radio Netherlands would be another one to check, or Deutche Welle,
You are doing a great job !
Hungary Bill (Forum Supporter) said:
It took me a minute translating those billboards to get the message, but I got the message. The spirit of Ukraine is inspiring, and these people deserve all the help we can give them. It is an absolute honor to be even a tiny little part of this.
Thank you, Bill. I'll be in touch.
Oh, man...what an epic tale. My hat is off to you, and all those other people you encountered who were on the same mission.
In reply to DarkMonohue :
What do they translate to?
In reply to tuna55 :
Some are messages of support. Some are of the "Russian Warship, go berk yourself" variety, and not suitable for posting in a family friendly forum. I'll see if I can translate and post tonight after the kid goes to bed.
That's a great mission recap Bill. Too bad your next trip wasn't 2 weeks later as I'd love to co-pilot. Keep up the great work and love the stories. I just missed you in Bratislava. I was there 4 days later.
Thank you for the update, and glad that you returned home a-okay.
Hungary Bill (Forum Supporter) said:My next concern is with my phone. Without the truck running, I’m draining my battery. I don’t dare turn off my google-map route as I know I don’t have a data connection there. As long as it isn’t shut off, my GPS will continue to work as it should. If it does shut off then my position wont update and… well… that’s what the map and compass are for.
First...
You are amazing.
Second, to help with the above problem if you run go again (or for Bamako) you can do offline maps in google maps:
Download areas & navigate offline
You can save an area from Google Maps to your phone or tablet and use it when you're offline.
Tip: You’re unable to download offline maps in some countries or regions because of contractual limitations, language support, address formats, or other reasons.
Android iPhone & iPad
Step 1: Download a map
Tip: You can save maps on your device or a SD card. If you change the way you save maps, you’ll have to download the map again.
Download 
Download. If you searched for a place like a restaurant, tap More 
Download offline map Download.Save offline maps on an SD card
Offline maps are downloaded on your device’s internal storage by default, but you can download them on an SD card instead. If your device is on Android 6.0 or higher, you can only save an area to an SD card that's set up for portable storage. To learn how to set up your SD card, get help from your phone's manufacturer.
Offline maps.
. SD card.Step 2 (optional): Save battery & mobile data
You can set up offline maps and still use other apps with mobile data.
Settings 
turn on Wi-Fi only.Use offline maps
After you download an area, use the Google Maps app just like you normally would. If your internet connection is slow or absent, your offline maps will guide you to your destination.
Tip: Transit, bicycling, or walking directions are unavailable offline. In your offline driving directions, you can’t get traffic info, alternate routes, or lane guidance.
Hungary Bill (Forum Supporter) said:VikkiDp said:In reply to Stampie :
Thank you so much!!! Hoping too
about my danger level... well... there isn't russian army in my city and it's good news, but danger is very near
i hope that military action don't reach us and i still stay here while it's possible
As long as there's a clear path, I can make the drive in one jump. I can even load up with supplies and drop them off when we pick you up. But you're going to have to do the driving on the way out, I'll be exhausted
Seriously though, stay as long as you need but don't wait until it's too late to leave. We can still do a lot of work from here, but we can't do anything if you can't get here.
Thanks, my dear friend, but it's to much long trip - yes, Ukraine is quite big country
to get to Lviv from Dnipro by train takes about 18 hours in peaceful time
of course, i'm monitoring the situation
Hungary Bill (Forum Supporter) said:
My eldest reports that 8 Ukrainian children are now in attendance at his school. One kid "Nikola" is in his class (4th grade). Unfortunately none of the new children speak English or Hungarian, but his teachers do speak a little Russian so some communication with the new students was possible.
It worked for a bit, but none of the local children speak Russian so communication on the playground wasn't possible at all. The kids being the kids, they made "translator sheet" to try to help in that department:
On it are things like "Hi", "Yes", "no", "please", "thank you", "futbol", and "paper airplane". We printed one for everyone in the class (teachers included), and he reports that it's been working great. We're about 4 days in at this point (he even gave me a copy to take with me to Ukraine).
it's so cute! Kids always find a way to communicate! Great 
Vikki, are you still safe enough where you are?
Bill, i'll definitely tell Ira about new delivery from Carrie
it's good that they met - i guess they have a lot of things in common that they can talk about
they become friends - i'm sure
In reply to tuna55 :
Thanks - i'm home and i'm safe
of course it's very sad, but air-ride sirens(the same what Bill posted) have become common in our life - at night or afternoon
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