For two years, 'Daisy', our venerable 4x4, has served us well. She was bought second-hand in Milton Keynes and – having left the concrete cows and urban utopianism – survived the Ukrainian frontline unscathed. Until now.
Between the first and 15th high-explosive rounds fired by the T-80 tank with which we are sharing a maple thicket, Daisy's windscreen cracks from one side to the other, her rear-view mirror falls from its mount, and all the storage pockets in her ceiling lining burst open. Such is the proximity to stupendous firepower.
The shockwaves are like slaps of hot air. Green leaves, not due to fall for months, are torn from branches. Dust and smoke intermingle.
The forest is filled with ear-piercing sound as a second tank – close but invisible – also opens fire over our heads.
'F****** good!' enthuses the Ukrainian drone pilot who is spotting the fall of the shells, aimed at a Russian infantry position some miles away. His corrections come over the tank crew's walkie-talkie.
