In the early hours of a dark morning, an early train arrives at a central Ukraine station, bringing with it a group of aid workers who eagerly gather around one of the carriages in anticipation. As the train's doors open, a small child steps into the platform's dim light, followed closely by her mother who carefully hands her baby in a tiny pink carrycot to the waiting helpers.

These families are the latest refugees of Ukraine's ongoing war. Following recent orders from authorities, children from 31 towns and villages near the frontline were forcibly evacuated. This specific train has transported several families from the Donetsk region to a safer location in the west, although for security reasons, the exact destination remains unnamed.

These evacuation orders, prompted by escalating Russian offensives in Donetsk and increased fighting in the Kherson region, aim to protect civilians from the dangerous conditions. As volunteers unload bags, boxes, and suitcases, the bewildered and exhausted arrivals find solace and warmth inside the station.

Among the refugees are three teenage girls sitting on benches, their faces reflecting the shock of their recent experiences. At their feet, a basket emits a soft meow. Their mother shares the harrowing experience of repeated shellings on their home, leading them to move to an apartment in the same village. However, as communication and energy links were severed due to strikes, online schooling for her daughters became impossible. Liliya, the mother, remains uncertain about their family's future and acknowledges the uncertainty of their journey.

While waiting for a bus to their accommodation, aid workers offer coffee, and state officials provide cash support to the evacuees. In addition to free transportation to safety, Ukraine provides financial assistance, approximately £45 per adult and £70 per child or vulnerable adult, along with a place to stay. Although unspoken, the possibility of never returning home looms over everyone's minds.

The responsibility to convince those reluctant to leave falls upon individuals like Pavlo Dyachenko, a member of the 'White Angels' special police unit dedicated to facilitating humanitarian aid and evacuations from Ukraine's most perilous areas. With the constant threat of Russian shelling, speed is of the essence in these operations. Crews carry toys to distract children from the perils on the road and other stressful moments.

While many Ukrainians have sought refuge abroad, the Ukrainian government estimates nearly five million internally displaced people within the country. Communities all over Ukraine open their doors to forced evacuees.

We encounter several families sheltered in an old school. In the corridors, the sound of a recorder being played echoes as Varvara, a 10-year-old girl, attends an online lesson on her laptop from what was once a classroom.

Varvara, her mother Iryna, and grandmother Svitlana fled Kostyantynivka in the Donetsk region, where shelling had confined them to a basement. Sharing common spaces with other residents, Iryna and Svitlana express their longing to return home, tears streaming down their faces.

Although Ukraine's refugee children may be physically distant from the front line, the lasting impact of the conflict continues to shape their lives.