Michael E. Miller and Anastasia Golovka , The Washington Post
Kherson, Ukraine. After more than eight months of occupation, this weary city was filled with joy.
Crowds poured into Kherson's central square on Saturday afternoon, less than 24 hours after the last Russian troops fled in the regional capital's dramatic surrender to President Vladimir Putin's military demands. The techno boombox roared. Couples kiss and guests embrace. Young people stand on the roof of a car and wave the Ukrainian flag.
"Despite our problems, we are very happy," said Olga Malak, 56, weeping in the central square. "We've been through a lot, but we'll bounce back."
But for others here, it has been too difficult to put their struggles aside and it is clear that many have begun to deal with trauma, including death and loss of loved ones.
Lyubov Oboznaya's 28-year-old son Dmitry was detained by Russian special services on August 3 in front of two small children. More than three months later, he believes he's alive, but still has no idea where he is.
Amidst the sea of joy that surrounded her, Oboyna, 61, stood up shyly and held her 6-year-old nephew's hand. "We don't know where it is," he said.
Time and time again, people report a loved one missing or arrested, interrogated, or tortured while on vacation.
After weeks of silence from Kersan, where Russian troops blocked almost all communications, people started telling their stories. And, like so many cities and towns before him - Bucha, Izium, Liman - the first signs were terrible.
Many speak of arbitrary searches, arrests, torture and disappearances.
As dozens of people danced in a circle, Proskova Stepanova, 55, stood nervously by her side.
His son-in-law, 31-year-old police officer Vadim Valerievich Barinov, disappeared on March 28.
Stepanova appealed to the Russian military administration, saying not to worry, she would be investigated and released. He was in jail, but they said they didn't have anyone with that name. Finally he goes to the cemetery where he believes the cremation took place. "I really hope he's alive," she said.
Others describe the attack as a months-long nightmare.
"Life was awful when they were arrested," said Tassiana Famina, 58. - It was like being in a concentration camp. We have never been free. The Russians had guns and you never knew when they were going to attack you.
Famina says she has cancer and needs chemotherapy, but hasn't been treated for more than eight months. "To be treated in our hospital, you must present a Russian passport," he said. "Otherwise you wouldn't have the right."
Volodymyr Timmer, 18, said Russian soldiers stripped him of his underwear by the side of the road in search of pro-Ukrainian tattoos, a common tactic he described.
His two friends were detained for one week and one month. They were fed, shaved and released.
"It was like a gulag," he said.
Others have described the treatment as the worst.
Valery, a 20-year-old military cadet, said Russian military police searched him in the spring and found his military ID card while he was on duty. Then they came to his workplace and arrested him. He was blindfolded, beaten and electrocuted for a week before being taken to a facility of Russia's Federal Security Service, the FSB, as the Russians tried to extract information from him.
"When they took me home I couldn't speak for two weeks," Valerie said, without giving her last name. "I thought I was going to die there."
While many victims remained silent or silently told their stories, many more took to the central square to dance and laugh.
When explosions rang out in the distance - presumably shells hitting Russian positions across the Dnieper - few in the crowd noticed.
Washington Post reporters were among the first reporters to arrive in Carson on Saturday, and signs of the bitter war before the Russian takeover were visible everywhere.
The highway in the nearby city of Nikolaev is littered with large potholes and burnt out cars.
In the roadside villages of the city of Kherson, old and young stood by the roadside, greeting the soldiers entering the city.
In Kiselevka, which was only released on Thursday, two young men are smiling and giving thumbs up at a hand-painted sign pointing the way to the regional capital.
"Glory to our heroes," shouted another.
A bridge was blown up a few kilometers near Kherson in what proved to be a failed attempt to halt the Ukrainian advance.
On the outskirts of the city that they have been trying to reach for months, young soldiers pose in front of the Carson sign, taking selfies.
Several billboards scattered around the city promise "Russia will live forever" with a smiling girl.
A group of young people are painting on one of the billboards, promising or threatening to throw a laugh party.
According to residents, Carson was without water for four days and without electricity for a week. Cell phones were useless. Therefore, the crowd in the central square is a loud and noisy party.
“We have waited a long time for this to happen,” said Andrey Fedorov, 23, standing in a black SUV waving a Ukrainian flag. "I always believed this was going to happen, right up until the end," he said of the release.
The atmosphere was mostly festive. Techno music played, people danced, sang. Someone handed out sweets and ice cream. The meat was roasted in the dark in a restaurant - a festive banquet.
For many years there was no trace of the feared marauders. Most people in the square said they hadn't seen Russian soldiers for four or five days, although some said they only saw Russians on Friday.
Despite this, the invaders quickly left.
Alina Kanivchenko, 19, said she heard rumors earlier this week that Russians living in a shack on the street had fled. My friend checked and found that the Russians had left behind bulletproof clothing, food and other items.
As the fall began in the central square, the new combat vehicles were greeted with shouts, horns and chants of "ZSU" - the acronym for the Armed Forces of Ukraine.
During the celebration, some people disperse and go home through dark streets without electricity or running water. Among them are three child friends from the same neighborhood. 30 minute walk from the square.
"They wanted to see the military," said 9-year-old Irina, a quiet girl wearing a hood and headscarf. It's already dark and they are afraid to go home alone.
Igor, 12, with a Ukrainian flag over his shoulder, said someone had a generator nearby, but not at home.
Irina was carrying a box of corned beef, ice cream and chocolate bars that someone had given to the children. "The last time this happened was before the war," he said.
For some, their joy was greater than their experience.
Irina Yefimova, 49, said Russian security forces broke in, beat her husband and 15-year-old son and captured her. According to her, the Russians held her and her sister in Ukrainian-controlled territory for two months to help the Ukrainian Armed Forces. When he was finally released, there was no explanation for his ordeal. But the challenge made Saturday even sweeter.
"There is freedom here," he said.
“I am happy in my soul,” said his son Timothy.
But for others there is no joy until their loved ones return home.
When Obj's son was arrested on August 3, the children saw him being taken away. “You will return it,” Dimitri's six-year-old son told the Russian security forces.
Obznaya went to the police with a statement about the abduction of her son. Police said they would investigate, but instead the family traced Zemeter to a remand center. Although Obozna could not call him and ask, those released from prison were told that her son was alive and safe.
But on October 20, he heard that prisoners were being taken. He thought his son, who fought in the Azov regiment in 2015, may have come under Russian control and is now imprisoned in a town across the Dnieper. But as he spoke, another passerby interjected that, according to him, the prisoners had been taken to the Crimea.
"We don't know," he said, shaking his head.
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