- A Ukrainian refugee and her son spent 27 hours in a crowded train cabin with 12 strangers.
- They fled the central Ukrainian city of Dnipro for the US, carrying just a backpack.
- Tetiana and Art Gladchenko are two of the more than 5 million Ukrainians who have now fled the country.
The cabins on the train traveling through the Ukrainian countryside were designed for four people — two sets of bunk beds on opposite sides of the room.
But on the 27-hour journey fleeing the central Ukrainian city Dnipro to the southeastern Polish city of Chelm, Tetiana Gladchenko, 46, and her 11-year-old son, Art, didn't have the luxury of space.
They had to share the cabin with a dozen other people, stuffed into the beds for the hours-long journey from their homeland days after Russian forces stormed Ukraine's border and began bombarding cities.
Tetiana and her son — who shared the story of their escape from war with Insider — are two of the scores of Ukrainians whose lives were uprooted after Russian President Vladimir Putin's February 24 televised war declaration against the country.
According to the latest United Nations figures, over 5 million Ukrainians have fled the country — a majority have gone to Poland — and another 7.7 million people have been displaced inside the country. The flood of refugees has cause a humanitarian crisis as world leaders scramble to try and accommodate the influx of Ukrainians.
Tetiana and Art didn't immediately leave the country when war struck. For over a week, they slept in the hallway of their apartment by the door, fully dressed.
Air raid sirens would wail throughout the night in their home city of Dnipro warning of a possible Russian strike, Tetiana told Insider through translations from her sister.
Tetiana, Art, and her husband Val would sprint from their 9th-floor unit downstairs to their building's lobby, sometimes waiting hours for the sirens to pass.
By early March, Tetiana said she and Val decided it was too dangerous for her to stay with Art. She knew she and her son could stay with her sister, who lives just south of Boston, but Val would have to stay behind because of a presidential decree banning men from leaving the country.
The family packed backpacks with essentials like a passport, clothes, and dry food. Before they left, Art grabbed a photo of the family showing him sandwiched between his mother and father and all of them smiling. It would be the only physical photo they were able to bring with them on their journey, Tetiana said.
At 8 a.m. on March 5, Tetiana and Art arrived at the Dnipro train station with just their backpacks but had to push through a sea of other people trying to flee. They waited 11 hours inside the train station with other refugees as snow fell outside.
They didn't make one of the three evacuation trains that left that day. Tetiana said they had to return again just around sunrise. This time, they got seats on a packed evacuation train leaving Dnipro and headed for Chelm, a small city just over the Ukrainian border of around 64,000 people.
Inside the train cabin, four people crammed onto each of the bottom bunks, while the top two bunks held three people each.
She said it was difficult to share the small space with so many people as the train snaked across Ukraine. On the crowded train cabin, Tetiana slept sporadically. She ate crackers and cereal bars, and drank only water.
But despite the crowded conditions, the passengers still found a few ways to bond.
The fleeing families shared stories and food, and talked about where they were headed and who they would live with.
Tetiana said the conversation made people more friendly and stronger.
Eventually, Tetiana and her son made it to Chelm. Tetiana recalled a very organized welcome to Poland where police and volunteers explained everything and helped her through passport control.
"There was [a] more relaxing situation because there was not ... a lot of panic like in Ukraine," Tetiana told Insider.
From Chelm, Tetiana and Art took a shorter train to Poland's capital city Warsaw.
Tetiana arrived at the airport that morning exhausted. There were no immediate flights to get her to Boston, so her sister booked one for the following morning. Art got a teddy bear from Polish volunteers welcoming them and brought it with him for the rest of the trip.
That night, Art slept on a yoga mat on the floor of the terminal while Tetiana paced the halls. She couldn't sleep. But by morning, the family were finally flying to safety with family in America.
Now in Stoughton, just south of Boston, Tetiana works remotely as a financial accountant for her company back in Ukraine. She constantly reads the news for information on the war and speaks to Val multiple times a day.
Her husband — a former construction worker — is now in Odesa. Though he's not a soldier, Tetiana said he's helping drive supplies to hospitals as the town prepares for a potential Russian attack.
She still wants to give back to Ukraine whenever she can. If the military asks for money, she'll send it.
And she's been supported by people in Massachusetts; a nearby elementary school wrote letters in Ukrainian to Art to celebrate his recent birthday.
"I feel ... the whole world helping," she said. "It could be a worthful victory."