Inside the ‘underground railroad’ Ukraine is using to bring back children from Russia
Inside Ukraine’s Secret Effort to Rescue Children from Russia
Rostyslav Lavrov, now 19, left behind a Russian naval academy in Crimea after months of covert planning. The academy, located in occupied territory, had attempted to issue him a new Russian birth certificate to erase his Ukrainian identity. Determined to resist, he fled in October 2023, walking out of his dorm unnoticed. His escape marked one of many journeys undertaken by Ukrainian children stranded in Russia, Belarus, or Russian-controlled areas of Ukraine, with around 2,000 returning since the conflict began.
Many of these youths had to vanish under cover of darkness, as official exit routes were nearly impossible to secure. Ukraine has mobilized global allies to pressure Russia into cooperation, but progress remains slow. Only about 83 children returned through Qatar’s support, and 19 via a program led by U.S. First Lady Melania Trump. For Lavrov, the operation was personal—he had enlisted volunteers from Save Ukraine, an organization focused on rescuing minors trapped in occupied zones.
“I chose a day when I had classes in another building. I got up in the morning, put on my uniform and did everything as normal so they would think I was going to study,” Lavrov told CNN. “I didn’t take anything with me to avoid drawing attention. I was nervous at the checkpoints, but I tried to stay calm.”
Mykola Kuleba, the founder of Save Ukraine and former children’s ombudsman, described Lavrov’s escape as part of a routine mission. “It’s like a special operation for every child,” Kuleba said, urging CNN to keep details discreet to protect those involved. He emphasized that the group avoids collaboration with Russian officials, as sharing information often triggers complications. “Once Moscow knows Ukraine wants a child, it will stop at nothing to keep them,” he claimed.
Yulia Dvornychenko’s experience exemplifies these challenges. Arrested in 2021 in Torez, an eastern Ukrainian town under pro-Russian separatist control since 2014, she was accused of being a spy. Her sons, Danylo (17) and Mark (9), were separated, with the authorities threatening to send them to a Russian orphanage unless she signed a false confession. After 18 months in a POW exchange, she was released, but the process to reclaim her children was far from smooth.
“I told him it meant he was coming home. I knew what happens during those (exchanges),” Dvornychenko said. “I tried to reassure him, saying not to get scared if the Russians tied his hands and blindfolded him.”
Mark, now 11, was initially expected to return through a POW deal, but Russian officials later demanded Dvornychenko personally retrieve him—a condition Ukraine rejected to prevent her re-arrest. Danylo, meanwhile, had fled to Moscow, fearing conscription into the Russian army. Despite her efforts, the family remained divided, highlighting the broader struggle Ukraine faces in reversing the crisis of missing children and the demographic toll of the war.
