Since the Maidan protests in 2014, Yarina Chagovets, once trained for the stage, has been part of a network inside a military hospital in Kharkiv that keeps things running where the system falls short. Following the full-scale invasion in 2022, she has been organizing, feeding, and caring for those arriving from the front with a team that is now almost entirely female. What began as a response to a moment of crisis has grown into Sister of Mercy, an organization whose support now extends far beyond the hospital, reaching all the way to the units holding the line.JOIN US ON TELEGRAMFollow our coverage of the war on the @Kyivpost_official. It is one of the first mild days of spring in Kharkiv, the kind of day that feels almost misplaced against everything that has happened here. The light is soft, the air no longer cuts, and in front of the military hospital, a narrow strip of green has begun to return. A small park stretches out with a few worn benches facing the entrance and a row of fir trees that look as if they have outlived several realities already. The building itself is a grey slab of concrete, heavy and unadorned, with barbed wire running along the perimeter, a quiet reminder that this is not just a place of treatment, but part of a war. Between arrival and departure Men arrive slowly, some on crutches, others in wheelchairs pushed along narrow paths that cut through the grass. Ambulances come and go in a steady rhythm. Some of the soldiers wear camouflage, others have already changed into civilian clothes. It is hard to tell who has just arrived and who is about to leave again.