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Glass shattered. Screams rang out. The air instantly filled with the smell of smoke and metal. Her first thought was: “Are the passengers all right?!” The morning of October 7, 2025, became a test of composure and courage for Liudmyla Stotska, a trolleybus driver in the Ukrainian city of Sumy. And on the first day of 2026, President of Ukraine Volodymyr Zelensky awarded Liudmyla the Order “For Courage.”
A Terrifying Morning
To some, the job of a trolleybus driver might seem monotonous: a familiar route, the same stops, the quiet hum of an electric motor against the equally familiar hum of a city. But in Sumy—a Ukrainian regional capital located just 20 kilometers from the Russian border—every trip is a test of nerve. And so it was for trolleybus driver Liudmyla Stotska.
At around six in the morning, her trolleybus was parked at the terminus of a residential district. The city had not yet fully woken up. She was preparing for the route in her usual rhythm—switching on the heaters in the cabin and the passenger compartment, checking the instruments. Over the hum of the heating system, she did not even hear the first Shahed drone—an Iranian-made attack drone widely used by Russia to strike Ukrainian cities. She realized a strike had landed only a moment later—an explosion, plumes of smoke somewhere ahead.
Liudmyla waited briefly, listened—silence. According to the schedule, it was time to go. There were not many people at the stop. She paused another moment—just long enough for one passenger to jump aboard.
The trolleybus never made it to the next stop. An explosion went off nearby. The trolleybus was violently shaken. Glass shattered. Screams rang out. The air instantly filled with the smell of smoke and metal. The lives of everyone on board were suddenly in the hands of the woman behind the wheel.
“It all happened very fast,” Liudmyla recalls. “The jolt. The sound of glass breaking inside. And then I heard windows being blown out of the apartment buildings on both sides of the road.”
She looked over her vehicle. The blast wave had blown out the windows. Shrapnel had torn through the passenger compartment and ripped off handrails. A shard of glass had flown into her cabin. Fortunately, it did not wound her.
The electrical power in the trolleybus cut out immediately, she recalls.
“And then a ringing silence hung over the cabin — every passenger seemed frozen in place.”
Her first thought, she remembers, was: “Are the passengers all right?!”
She acted as though she had been preparing for this exact moment her entire life.
First priority—save the passengers. Seeing that the man who had jumped aboard at the last second was wounded, she did not wait for an ambulance. She began administering first aid herself.
“People were in shock. I had to hold it together. And act fast, so panic wouldn’t set in.”
She also recalls that time seemed to stop.
“I remember pulling the first aid kit out of the cabin. I remember what I did next. Very clearly. Everything was happening to me, and at the same time, as if it wasn’t happening to me at all.”
Fortunately, despite the blown-out windows, piles of glass, and significant damage to the trolleybus, no other passengers were injured.
The passengers were safe, first aid had been administered, she recalls — but the internal tension would not let go. Adrenaline was still coursing through her. The roar of the explosion still rang in her ears.
But the crucial thing was: the danger had not passed. A third enemy drone was buzzing overhead.
Liudmyla understood she could not stop yet. The battered but still functioning trolleybus could not be left in the middle of the street. She contacted the dispatcher and reported the situation.
“I was scared, but I understood: the vehicle cannot stay here.”
Experience won out over emotion. Slowly, with full concentration, controlling every movement, Liudmyla drove the damaged trolleybus back to the depot. She maneuvered the vehicle onto a repair pit. Then she helped clean the broken glass out of the cabin and inspect the damage.
The next day, she was back on the route.
Nearly 18 Years Behind the Wheel
Liudmyla Stotska has been a trolleybus driver at the municipal enterprise Elektroavtotrans for nearly 18 years.
It was never her childhood dream. She had worked as a spinner at a wool-spinning factory in Sumy. But when the factory shut down, she had to find new work. She got a job as a trolleybus conductor—the person who collects fares on board, a position still common in Ukrainian public transit. She enjoyed talking to people. And she liked feeling the rhythm of the city from the inside, being part of it.
“At that point, I hadnʼt even thought about getting behind the wheel myself.”
But then she learned that the company had announced a training program for trolleybus drivers. “I thought,” she recalls, “why not me?”
Of course, operating a powerful vehicle and being responsible for passengers meant taking on serious responsibility. “It was a little scary. But I decided to try.”
An important source of encouragement was a close friend—an experienced trolleybus driver who had been working at the company for over 30 years. Her example, Liudmyla says, gave her real confidence at the time.
In April 2008, Liudmyla made her first solo run on a route. “I passed the exam on the first try. I heard the words: that’s it, you’re on your own now.”
“I wasnʼt afraid. I sat down and drove,” she says simply of that day.
Of her entire training group, only three people stayed in the profession. All three were women.
Driver and First Responder
Over the years, Liudmyla Stotska has risen from a third-class driver to the highest—first class. For her, this is not just a formal qualification, but a measure of trust and professionalism.
“I like order—at home and at work. Everything should be in its place. And the vehicle should run like clockwork,” she says.
She also admits she has made it a habit never to put off problems. “If I can fix a malfunction myself, I will do it right away.”
Being a trolleybus driver is not just about steering and following a route. In emergency situations, the driver is responsible for passenger safety. For instance, a passenger might fall ill during a trip. Drivers at the company undergo training in pre-medical first aid: stopping bleeding, treating wounds, applying bandages and tourniquets.
“We prepare for different situations, go through training, take exams,” says Liudmyla. “It helps you act calmly and confidently. Iʼve helped passengers more than once—with injuries or when someoneʼs condition suddenly worsened.”
Her route supervisor, Volodymyr Kryvenko, says: “Liudmyla is always focused on her work. Passengers can feel that thereʼs a professional behind the wheel. On the day of the explosion, she acted with absolute precision.”
On the first day of 2026, President of Ukraine Volodymyr Zelensky signed a decree awarding Liudmyla Stotska the Order “For Courage,” Third Class—one of Ukraineʼs state decorations for acts of personal bravery.
Liudmyla has returned to the wheel of her repaired trolleybus and is back on her route today.
Four Centimeters From Death
Over the past two years, trolleybuses and buses in Sumy have repeatedly become targets, and driver cabins have become places where seconds and millimeters decide a person’s fate.
Near the railway station, during one of many shellings, the vehicle driven by Iryna Steblianko came under fire. Fragments pierced the body of the trolleybus and blew out the windows. Miraculously, none of the passengers were hurt.
For driver Oleksii Kuchmenko, one of his runs became a second birthday. A piece of shrapnel pierced the body of the trolleybus and flew past just four centimeters from the driverʼs head. Another driver, Oleksandr Shcherbonos, was also on shift when a powerful explosion occurred. The windshield cracked, the blast wave knocked the driver off his feet, and he suffered severe shock.
And in the spring of last year, Russia struck the very center of Sumy with ballistic missiles. In the cabin of a city bus caught at the epicenter of the blast, 16 people were killed. Among them was the bus driver, Mykola Leon. He was behind the wheel.
By Iryna Chyrchenko, Vash Shans newspaper, Sumy, Ukraine. Translated and adapted for international audiences
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Vash Shans (meaning “Your Chance”) is one of the most widely read and highest-circulation independent newspapers in Ukraine’s Sumy region, where it has held a leading position in the local media market for decades. The outlet is known for its versatility: it combines in-depth analysis of social and economic issues, hard-hitting investigative journalism, and general-interest content, making it popular among a broad readership.
Today, the editorial team works under extreme conditions: the city of Sumy is located just 30 to 40 kilometers from the border with Russia, which means the regional capital and surrounding communities are subjected to daily bombardment by guided aerial bombs (known by their Russian acronym KABs), ballistic missiles, and drones. Despite constant air raid alerts and the threat of a ground offensive, Vash Shans remains a reliable source of verified information. The outlet has been actively developing its web portal, which has become a critically important tool for providing real-time updates on the security situation, the aftermath of attacks, and the work of humanitarian response centers.
As part of its preparations for 2026 and its participation in initiatives such as Frontline Press (implemented with the support of the National Union of Journalists of Ukraine and its international partners), the editorial team is seeking ways to build technological resilience. Vash Shans today is not just a newspaper—it is a vital element of the civilian information defense infrastructure of the Sumy region.
Official website: shans.com.ua.
Vash Shans is one of 25 local and regional media outlets participating in the Frontline Press support program, funded by the Swedish media business association Tidningsutgivarna. The program supports professional journalism about life in Ukraine’s frontline communities. The National Union of Journalists of Ukraine (NUJU) is happy to share these stories with international media for republication. To request permission to republish this or other materials produced through the Frontline Press program, please contact [email protected].
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