Medical Lifelines Ukraine was founded immediately after the Russian invasion in February 2022, by a small group of extraordinary individuals in London determined to do something impactful. They put out an appeal and the response was overwhelming. The charity delivered its first ambulance to Ukraine just 2 weeks later, on 5 March 2022.

The charity buys used ambulances in the UK and fills them with medical supplies, generators and/or whatever else may be in greatest need. About 6 times a year, a convoy of 5-6 vehicles driven by volunteer drivers (who are also the charity’s primary fundraisers) then drive the ambulances to western Ukraine, and hand them over directly to the mayors and medical directors of the war-ravaged localities further east, who will use them to save lives.

*Clearing French customs in Calais, to transit across the EU to Ukraine. The word “Ambulance” is printed backward so it reads properly in rear-view mirrors.*

Like many people out there, I have wanted to do more to help Ukraine but wasn’t sure how best to do it – there are too many scam charities on the internet, and even the legit ones sometimes consume far too much in admin expenses. I heard about MLLU from a friend who drove in a previous convoy, and I loved how clearly donors can see their money at work. The charity’s administrative expenses are very low; the money goes to purchase vehicles and supplies which we hand off directly to the end users. I signed on and was allocated to their May 2025 convoy, the Century Convoy that included their 100th ambulance (for a photo summary of all of MLLU’s convoys, see here).

Each driver is required to raise £7,000 (€8,400, US$10,500) for the charity, which initially sounded daunting as I am historically rubbish at fundraising. But when it comes to Ukraine, people want to help, and the response from my friends, relatives, and even people I don’t even know was astonishing. If you haven’t donated but still want to, please do so here. My convoy has gone, but more convoys are gearing up and we still need funds to make that happen. And if you would like to volunteer as a driver, contact me! It’s an experience you will never forget, particularly the meeting in Lviv with the brave people who will save lives with the aid that you delivered. Especially now, I cannot convey how much it meant to them to receive this aid, both for the lives it saves and the knowledge that they are not forgotten.

Each vehicle has 2 drivers, so no one has to drive more than 3 hours straight. And while one of you focuses on driving, the other is free to keep the banter going on the walkie-talkies in between the frequent exchanges of essential information. Nightly team dinners are a great opportunity to unwind and keep getting to know the fun, brilliant, highly accomplished and generally extraordinary individuals who choose to do this. And behind all of this is the knowledge that this effort will directly, immediately save lives, and show a country that has suffered enormously that they are not forgotten, that decent people still care and want to help them.

*Drivers’ team dinner in Germany on Day 1*

The convoy is organized by size, with the smallest vehicle in the lead. Most drivers are doing this for the first time, but each convoy is led by three “old hands” who have done this repeatedly: Mike the convoy leader (who drives ambulance #1 and directs all convoy movement), Mark the charity’s extraordinarily resourceful mechanic, and Daniel another charity leader, the last two typically driving the largest vehicle at the back to anchor the convoy and ensure everyone stays together. They have the trip down to a science — follow their lead and you won’t go wrong.

*Crossing Germany on the autobahn on Day 2*

I was assigned to drive with Mike in the lead vehicle, a Nissan Pathfinder 6-speed manual 4x4 Casualty Evacuation Vehicle. The smallest vehicle and relatively high-powered, it was easy enough to drive, but as the lead vehicle you’re always thinking about pacing, when it’s safe for 5 vehicles to pass a slow-moving truck (always the lead driver’s decision), and generally keeping the convoy together.

An additional challenge is that they are British ambulances and therefore all right-hand drive, but from Calais to Ukraine you’re driving on the right-hand side of the road. The long mileage on freeways is fine, but the narrow European town roads at the beginning and end of each day require extra care.

*The team in Germany. You’ll be amazed how quickly a 4-day drive goes by when you’re in such fun company.*

My first surprise was the variety of brands, shapes and sizes in which ambulances come. You’d think “it’s a niche market, how many could there be?” Not so. Most major automakers offer them. The smallest are 4x4 Casualty Evacuation Vehicles, relatively cramped inside but able to traverse rough tracks that typical ambulances can’t reach. The largest are Incident Response Units (IRUs), 6.5-tonne vehicles designed to handle mass casualty events — they are fitted with eight tall wheeled metal cages (aka "stillages"), strapped securely in place to organise and hold down the equipment being transported. In between are what you most typically associate with an ambulance.

Anyone with a regular UK drivers’ licence can drive any vehicle rated up to 3.5 tonnes, which included 3 of the 5 ambulances in my convoy. But anything bigger can only be driven by licensed truck drivers, or by someone who got their UK automobile license before 1986 (they are grandfathered in). So when preparing a convoy, considerations include:

1. What categories / specification of vehicles are in most urgent need? The needs are always immense, given endless Russian bombardment of civilian areas, and the Russians’ fondness for stealing the ambulances when possible. Our Ukrainian partners always tell us that they would much rather we spread our money across a higher quantity of older, cheaper vehicles, rather than spend large sums on fewer, newer vehicles — the life expectancy of an ambulance near the front line is not long, so quantity is everything.

2. What vehicles are coming up for auction all over the UK, and where? Typical ambulances will have 200k-250k miles on them before they are sold (Incident Response Units have far fewer, often only 20,000 miles or so after 10-15 years in service). So the vehicles and their critical equipment (stretchers, defibrillators, etc) must be thoroughly checked out, and some repairs and preventive maintenance are usually required. And someone must drive each of them from wherever they are purchased to the gathering point in London. (I’m told that most people who buy old ambulances convert them into camper vans; MLLU get special dispensation to keep the sirens and blue lights in place.)

3. Which volunteer drivers are available, and how many are licensed to drive larger ambulances?

*Our mechanic Mark (making his 9th trip to Ukraine) readies the Incident Response Unit, the largest vehicle in the convoy*

The last few days before a convoy departs are always busy with receiving all the supplies, loading up the vehicles and preparing the customs declarations. The cargo is varied. Sometimes generators are in greatest need. In our case, the packing included an emergency response motorcycle transported inside one of the larger ambulances. Tools to handle breakdowns en route (including a portable automotive diagnostic computer) come, too. And on my convoy we got a late special request for old sheets, which Ukrainians dye and use as camouflage for personal belongings stored outdoors. So we all put the word out and collected a substantial haul of old sheets.

A few days before our departure, it became clear that one ambulance in need of a new engine wouldn’t be ready in time. Fortunately the charity had just purchased a similar ambulance in Wales for the July convoy. So that one was slotted into the May convoy instead, and I rushed out to Swansea to pick it up.

*Loading the vehicles onto the Eurotunnel’s HGV transport train from Folkestone under the English Channel to Calais.*

Day 1 began for me with a 4:30 AM start from West London. The five vehicles converged at 7 AM at a rest area southeast of London on a gloriously sunny morning. The crossing through the Channel Tunnel was quick, as was our remarkably easy passage through French Customs into the European Union and the Schengen Zone.

We quickly and easily passed through what can often be horrible traffic around Brussels and Duesseldorf, with gorgeous haze-free views most of the way and no vehicle breakdowns.

At each of our rest stops my fellow driver Sarah-Jane offered delicious, fattening baked goods in which I with my usual lack of willpower indulged generously.

We reached our Night 1 stopping point in northwestern Germany at a very reasonable hour, with plenty of time for a relaxed dinner in a traditional brewpub (see photos above).

*My wife Susan had knitted Ukrainian gnomes to ride with each ambulance. They took their places on the dashboards, and are with the vehicles now as far as I know. That’s Volodymyr in my vehicle.*

Day 2 found us on our way eastward again at 7:30 sharp, passing through the former border between West and East Germany, and by a few of Martin Luther’s famous haunts: his alma mater in the charming university town of Erfurt (not that we had any time to stop there), and Wartburg Castle where Luther took refuge for 10 months after the Pope excommunicated him.

Normally the big challenge on day 2 is several hills that fully-laden ambulances need some persuasion to climb. But this convoy had bigger worries, as one of our ambulances started pouring white smoke out of its exhaust. Naturally we immediately named it the Popemobile, Leo, or Pontiff. But jokes aside we were afraid we could be looking at the death of an engine and the loss of a vehicle.

We stopped as soon as we safely could. The engine was not losing power (which ruled out a lot of possibilities) and when it had restarted there wasn't smoke (although it came back later before stopping again). There were no concerning sounds. So ok, what is actually wrong with it, and do we need to worry about it?

After Mark pronounced it safe (if smokey!) we saddled up again…… but now the lead vehicle (my vehicle) wouldn’t start. The starter motor whirred but the engine would not catch. All stop again. Mark diagnosed an issue with the immobiliser which he managed to address, but this was yet another thing for him to take a look at come the evening.

Back on the road the Pontiff puffed white smoke intermittently (especially on uphills), but less badly than before.

From Calais to the Ukrainian border we were in the Schengen Zone, a collection of 29 countries that have in theory eliminated all border controls between them. So on Day 1 from France through Belgium, Netherlands, and into Germany, our only awareness that we had crossed a border was that the road signs were now in a different language. And from Germany into Poland on Day 2 that was also true…. but not going the other way, where we passed by a miles-long backup at the border that we were grateful not to be sitting in. Every since the refugee crisis got bad in the 2010s, barriers even between Schengen countries have come back, but only in the direction from poorer countries into richer countries.

The evening of Day 2 found us near Wroclaw (pronounced “VROT-suave” in case you were wondering) in southwestern Poland. In the days before we departed, I had been trying to brush up my 100-word Polish vocabulary in case we needed it. But in this now-very-international city, all the hotel and waitstaff spoke excellent English. After two days together the team was really bonding, and this feast only accelerated that.

We were joined for dinner by Ivan, a young Polish-Ukrainian dual national who moved here before the war, and now devotes significant time to coordinating charity work. Like all Ukrainians we would meet on this trip, he expressed immense gratitude that people like us — and the many more who donated and support us — would support Ukraine so generously. We had a wide-ranging discussion about the war, Ukraine’s current political and military leadership, and the absolute determination of Ukrainians to achieve their country’s independence. Ivan gave me two contacts in Kyiv who would turn out to substantially enrich my visit there the following week.

Unfortunately our master mechanic Mark missed all of this, as he was busy trying to figure out the Popemobile’s white smoke and why the Nissan wasn’t reliably starting up.

*A fascinating chat with Ivan in Wroclaw*

Before 1945 Wroclaw was called Breslau, and it was the 4th largest city in Germany. The motorway there is one of the oldest in Poland, first laid by the Nazis in the 1930s as part of the original German autobahn, unlike most Polish motorways that were laid after the fall of Communism. The German Army’s fanatical defence of Breslau in 1945 and the Red Army’s equally fanatical assault on it left the city utterly destroyed, a rebuilding task left to the Poles after Poland’s borders got shifted sharply westward at Stalin’s insistence, and this became Polish territory.

When I worked here briefly in 1999, the central square had been lovingly rebuilt, but the rest of the city looked very Soviet. But like most of western Poland, Wroclaw has benefitted from massive international investment since then. We only had time for a brief walk-through before and after dinner, but I very much enjoyed seeking how it has changed in the last 26 years.

By the morning of day 3, Mark had figured out that the Popemobile’s white smoke is probably due to a faulty injector allowing neat diesel to flow through the engine to the exhaust system from time to time. Luckily this is a relatively easy fix for your average reourceful Ukrainian mechanic. The Nissan is slightly more of a puzzle, but at least it is starting up at the moment!

We spent day 3 making our way across southern Poland, passing by Katowice, Krakow, and the “Corner of the Three Emperors” where the German, Austrian and Russian empires all met back when Poland was completely carved up amongst them, from 1795-1919. Poland is a real continuum — western Poland is very organised, efficient, and by the book. But the further east you go, the more old-school Eastern European Poland becomes. That’s no longer true of the roads themselves, with a good motorway all the way to the Ukrainian border. But it’s definitely true of the driving, and the tail-gating and lane-weaving got steadily worse throughout the day. We passed by a large accident on the other side of the freeway that we were grateful not to have to weave through.

*Leona drives past a field of rape (canola), which with the sky makes the colours of the Ukrainian flag*

As the day progressed, the Popemobile got so smoky that Mark drove it for a while with his diagnostic computer plugged into it. That split the mother-daughter team of Sarah-Jane and Jemima (who were usually driving the Popemobile) into two ambulances, which in turn revved up the banter on the walkie-talkies most entertainingly. Despite the mechanical worries, we arrived at our hotel a few miles from the Ukrainian border with enough time for a much-needed nap before dinner.

At dinner we were joined by the founder of Medical Lifelines Ukraine, Aliya Aralbayeva, and her right hand Djamila. Over the last 3 years they have become the charity’s Customs Clearance experts, and they meet each convoy here on Day 3 to help shepherd the vehicles safely out of the EU and into Ukrainian customs. Here in Poland’s remote East, my extremely limited Polish vocabulary got pushed to the limit and well beyond, as the waitstaff spoke nothing else. Fortunately most Poles are so astonished that a foreigner speaks any Polish at all, that they don’t seem to mind when I butcher the grammar and throw in a lot of Russian words by mistake.

*The Century Convoy team. Most of these were taken at dinner in remote eastern Poland on Day 3.*

The big unknown on the morning of Day 4 is Customs, and how long it will take. Usually exiting Poland is easy, with charitable donations given expedited clearance. But Ukrainian entry could take hours in the past, and not without reason. Many smugglers bring all manner of contraband through the border labled “charitable donations”, because goods for which no sales or tax receipts are expected are impossible to track beyond the border. On rare occasions, MLLU ambulances have almost been taken apart looking for narcotics or other hidden items in the panels of the truck body. But over time, as the charity has developed trust with the Ukrainian border authorities the process has become much quickier and easier, frequently taking less than an hour – impressive given that every ambulance is being de-registered from the UK and re-registered in Ukraine, which would take days in most European countries. So we approached the border cautiously optimistic.

But this time the Polish guards offered no expedited clearance; on the contrary we sat for 3 hours in our vehicles as a steady, cold rain blew in and dozens of other vehicles proceeded around us.

Finally we were admitted to the Customs area, but several more hours were lost because some items had wound up in different ambulances from what our declarations indicated. The Polish officials were pleasant, professional and completely by-the book, but the delay was stressful. We passed the time observing the freight entering Ukraine, which included several truckloads of new-ish but visibly damaged cars. Written off in the West, resourceful Ukrainians will fix them and thereby drive a nice car on a Ukrainian budget.

Our patient and tenacious experts eventually got us through, and on the other side the Ukrainian agents were magnificently quick. But we still found ourselves many hours behind schedule as we began the short drive from the border to Lviv.

In some places in the world, the dividing line between a war zone and a “peace” zone is very sudden. In 2001, for example, I drove from Sarajevo southward through several hours of war devastation, until suddenly crossing an invisible line into the ethnically Croatian area which looked like Italy, its villas and vinyards untouched. But coming from Poland into Ukraine is not like that at all. **Yes, you have just crossed into an official war zone, and just about the only health insurance valid here is the remarkably affordable policies sold by** **VisitUkraine.today, But here in the far West, the only obvious evidence of war is the Ukrainian International Legion recruiting office at the border.**
Far from Russia and its drones and missiles, the villages here in far western Ukraine have beautiful churches and fine villas alongside the Communist-era dachas (country houses). We saw no war damage at all. But you do have to watch vigilantly for potholes.

And then we had our first actual breakdown. One of the ambulances hit a large pothole which somehow triggered the car’s anti-theft shutdown mechanism. It rolled to a stop next to a well-hidden 3-foot hole in the earth at roadside, which luckily no one stepped in. Mark’s initial attempts via his diagnostic computer to reset the shutdown mechanism weren’t working.

Meantime the start time for our vehicle handover and welcome dinner with the recipients of our vehicles was fast approaching.

We began shifting “must have” cargo out of the broken-down ambulance on the assumption that someone would have to stay with the vehicle awaiting a tow while the rest of us continued on to Lviv.

But then Mark got it fixed, and on we went to a delayed, rainy, but nonetheless buoyant handover.

***The Century Convoy’s handover in Lviv of MLLU’s 100th ambulance to its new owners,*** *who will take it back to their war-ravaged community further east to save lives*

*Peter and Mark hand over the keys to Ambulance #2*

*Sarah-Jane and Jemima hand over the registration documents for the Popemobile*

*Journalists interviewing one of the recipients*

Then it was on quickly to the Welcome Dinner, which was an extraordinary and emotional event. Mayors and medical directors from each of the five war-ravaged localities to which our ambulances are headed spoke about the terror that they deal with every day, and how these vehicles will save lives.

Everyone at the dinner told us how much it means to them – particularly now – to meet us here and to know that they are not forgotten, that so many of us are willing to do this and that behind each of us stands dozens of others giving significant moral, financial and emotional support.

Julia Pasternak (at right below) is the mayor of Kulukivka Settlement in the Chernihiv Region of northeastern Ukraine, near the Russian border. At the start of the invasion in February 2022, the Russian army captured half of the region within 36 hours, incuding her village. Bombing made thousands homeless, and destroyed a large part of the village hospital. During 44 days of Russian occupation they had to perform surgeries, deliver babies etc. in a wet, dusty basement sometimes without electricity and usually without heat. Somehow the necessary supplies got through, including one not-always-reliable generator.

*Mayor Julia Pasternak (at right) and her colleague*

The Ukrainian counter-offensive in 2022 liberated this area, but like much of eastern Ukraine, it is still subject to vastly worse bombardment than Kyiv or Lviv. The population is now 10,500 (down from 15,000 pre-war), including 1,800 children who have only had distance learning for the past 3 years. Fully 10% of the local population (1,500 people) are now active-duty military. 70 have been killed.

*Svetlana (at right), with Jemina who delivered the ambulance for the hospital where Svetlana works near the Russian border*

Svetlana is from the town of Trostyanets in the Sumi Region of eastern Ukraine 40 km (25 miles) from the Russian border. Their hospital was completely destroyed but is now being rebuilt. She brought with her a photo album documenting their 31-day Russian occupation. 3 years after the Ukrainian counteroffensive liberated the town, 11 civilians are still missing — presumed dead, but the location of the bodies is unknown.

In Lviv and the rest of far western Ukraine, people spend little time in bomb shelters because very little ordnance gets through this far west. In the east where these people are from, no one goes to the shelters because the air raids are incessant, you couldn’t live your life at all in that case. They sleep in hallways observing the “two wall rule” (always have two walls between you and the outside), which protects you from flying glass and other light debris if a bomb or drone hits nearby. But that will not protect you from a direct hit.

Lyudmila is the medical director of a hospital in the town of Barvinkove in Kharkiv Region, just a few kilometres from the front line. She took delivery of the vehicle that I drove here. Her hospital has to cover a very wide rural area, and having a 4x4 will make it much easier to rescue wounded people in remote areas.

These men are from Kherson, scene of some of the worst fighting in the war. They tell me that the city’s pre-war population of 350,000 is now down to 100,000, the rest mostly refugees either in western Ukraine or abroad.

*Men of Kherson. I can’t imagine what they live through every day.*

Because of the late start, the dinner went past the midnight curfew. We foreigners had nothing to worry about, the worst we would face is a warning. But draft-age men found outside after curfew without a good reason are liable to be conscripted.

Keep an eye out for additional blog posts in the coming days about my 3-day stay in Lviv and my two weeks in Kyiv!

To Ukraine in an Ambulance Convoy