In the eastern Ukrainian city of Siversk, Valery drives a chainsaw through a log, like many others in the war-ravaged region, to stock up for a cold winter.

“We’re trying to survive thanks to wood,” says the 39-year-old, who stayed behind after his wife and children fled to the capital to take care of his mother.

“A cellar (to hide from Russian strikes), an oven and wood – that’s all we have,” he says, without giving his last name.

Russian forces, which invaded Ukraine in February, have bombarded the district with rockets and missiles this summer, making several unsuccessful attempts to capture it.

Though the city has so far held out, the blows have disfigured its heights and eastern flank, and etched deep craters in the earth.

Buildings in the square, including a school, were badly damaged.

Only a handful of the city’s 12,000 pre-war residents are alive today, struggling without gas or electricity.

“There is nothing else to do, so we cut down as many trees as possible. There are a lot of them here, so it should be enough for the winter,” says Valery.

The front line lies in a semicircle about 10 to 15 kilometers (6 to 9 miles) east of the city.

The constant back and forth of artillery fire between Ukrainian and Russian forces echoes through the almost deserted city.

“The only way to get through this is to drink wine before bed,” says Valery.

“I’m stressed, it’s hard to deal with.”

Alla, a 68-year-old doctor who also stayed behind, says she helps distribute humanitarian aid from local authorities and the church when she arrives.

“There are also volunteers who bring food for the animals” who have been left to roam the city, she says.

The doctor says the fighting destroyed her apartment and one of her two houses in Siwersk.

She brought all the firewood from the destroyed house to the surviving one, where she lives with her husband.

Suddenly, an explosion makes them jump.

“There goes the Vasilek,” she says, while Ukrainian soldiers fire their Soviet 2B9 Vasilek mortar gun toward Russian positions.

“It’s hard to get used to all this shooting,” she says.

“But it’s our decision. We stayed here, so we’re trying to deal with that.”

The main problem, she says, is the lack of communication with the outside world.

“We have no phone reception. We used to, but not anymore. It’s difficult to reach anyone,” she says.

With no electricity in the area, residents have had to adjust to the daylight hours, which end around 5 p.m.

“It’s getting dark early, so we’re going to bed early. And we get up early. That’s how we live,” she says.

In the heights of the city, Volodymyr, Victoria and Mykola converse at the foot of the building where they live.

Ax in hand, Volodymyr rolls logs for an outdoor furnace.

“We chop wood, put it in the oven and cook the buckwheat,” he says, adding that it’s warmer outside by the stove than in his unheated apartment.

Sitting on a bench, wearing a woolly blue hat and with her hands in her jacket pockets, Victoria grumbles.

“I live next door and we have been put on the list to receive wood. They (the local authorities) took our names three months ago, but we still haven’t received anything,” she says.

“So we decided to find some ourselves.”

At least they receive some humanitarian donations.

“It would be difficult without them,” she says.