The constant clang of metal and the screech of drills suggest the sort of work underway at a warehouse-turned-workshop in this Ukrainian city about 300 kilometers (180 miles) east of Kyiv. But the din fails to convey the creativity of the small team of volunteers transforming ordinary cars into custom-built armored ambulances.
Inside, a civilian minivan – purchased secondhand from abroad – is at midconversion. Its side windows have been replaced with metal and covered with insulation and bulletproof material. The interior is covered with modular panels on which to mount medical equipment. The floors have been resurfaced with durable, easy-to-clean aluminum.
“You need space for the wounded and to be able to work at the level of your hands, not on your knees, on the floor,” explains Ihor Tkachov, founder of Frame, the team of volunteers, as he points to a raised stretcher mount. “Wounded soldiers often suffer from hypothermia, even in summer. So we installed autonomous heaters, too.”
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With emergency vehicles in short supply in Ukraine’s war with Russia, one team of volunteers is converting ordinary cars into armored ambulances ready to carry medics and wounded soldiers around the battlefield.
Since Washington suspended shipments of military supplies, including first-person view drones, front-line evacuations have become deadly gambles, Ukraine’s need for reliable medevac vehicles has never been more acute. With formal procurement systems failing to meet the demand and Russian drones said to be deliberately targeting emergency vehicles, volunteers are trying to close a life-saving gap.
At the heart of this effort is a couple, Mr. Tkachov and Polina Melnyk, who met while serving with a volunteer medical battalion. The war brought them together and eventually landed them in Poltava, where their new fight involves metal frames and insulation panels instead of trauma kits and field bandages.
“I was working as a medic,” says Ms. Melnyk. “I know the problems and why it is important to make these evacuation cars. I like to see the results of making them. Medics can save more lives like this.”
Upgrading cars to save lives
Each upgraded vehicle reflects the collective wisdom of combat medics. Custom lighting systems are wired in, including red LED loading lights for night operations and bright whites for inspecting wounds and reading medical fine print. Behind the driver’s seat, a blackout curtain allows for distraction-free navigation.
“We give the cars to medics, and then we ask what the drawbacks are, what should be improved,” says Mr. Tkachov, noting that they added sirens and extra storage space in response to popular demand.
The vehicles boast folding benches for lightly wounded passengers or medics, as well as a variety of storage spaces, including spots tucked beneath seats and inside platforms, and a sturdy roof rack. Every cubic inch is needed if the paramedics are going to squeeze in their medical kit, their personal belongings, a full set of car repair tools, extra tires to deal with breakdowns, and other critical gear.
Each conversion costs between $4,000 and $5,000. The team opted to leave out high-end extras like anti-drone jammers, because they’re expensive and risk becoming obsolete quickly. But they can be added on request.
The workshop runs on a break-even model, covering only salaries and essentials. “There’s no profit here,” says Mr. Tkachov, just the reward of helping others save lives.
It’s a labor-intensive process. With two mechanics working full time on a vehicle, conversions can take up to three weeks. The team includes about 10 people, including a master mechanic who is currently serving on the front. Since his deployment, Frame is trying to fill its ranks with veterans and younger volunteers, who are at lower risk of being conscripted to serve in the army.
One of them is engineering student Eduard Shmidt. This morning, he is welding metal rather than cramming for a same-day exam. He also talks about his memories of helping paramedics transfer the body of a soldier from one vehicle to another amid front-line evacuations of civilians, and how that has motivated him.
“I understand that I am doing a useful thing,” he says. “To reduce the number of dead soldiers, we need to make more of these cars to save lives. The logic is very simple: The more soldiers you can keep alive, the less dead you will have.”
“Not many people can armor a car”
While Mr. Tkachov runs the car workshop, Ms. Melnyk, a graphic designer, oversees the painting of the vehicles at a nearby facility. She had been traveling through Brazil when the war started. She ended her South American adventure immediately and returned to Ukraine.
She credits Mr. Tkachov for coming up with the workshop idea. It took shape between volunteering rotations with the Hospitallers Medical Battalion, where the dangers of relying on worn-out civilian vehicles during high-risk, life-and-death evacuations quickly became obvious.
“We took two cars from our battalion – just empty cars – and upgraded [them] by ourselves,” she recalls. “Our friends also helped. In a few months, we understood that if we wanted to make more cars, we needed a workshop and workers. It wasn’t a decision taken in a moment. It was step by step.”
Surrounded by jars of military green paint, she talks about the joys of learning on the job. She never imagined a role that would involve mixing media relations, design, and fundraising with private donors and digital crowdfunding campaigns.
“I learned a lot this [past] year,” she says. “Every day we are doing something, sorting something, buying something. We only take one day off, Saturday or Sunday. It’s a lot of work. I know this is important now. Medics can save more lives like this.”
The cars themselves come from abroad – imported through a patchwork of volunteer networks. There’s no official procurement system, but Mr. Tkachov has built an informal web of contacts in Europe and the United States that helps bring vehicles and tools in. There are only three or four car workshops doing civilian-to-battlefield-ready vehicle conversions in Ukraine. This team has built 11 vehicles for Ukraine’s 3rd Separate Assault Brigade.
A guiding principle is to try to make a difference in areas where others cannot. “Any medic can raise funds to buy [drone] jammers,” he says. “Any medic can take a car for repairs. But not many people can convert [civilian] cars. That’s why we focus mainly on conversions. It’s the same with armoring. Not many people can armor a car. It’s very technical.”
Despite their dedication, the couple acknowledge that the future of the workshop is uncertain.
With team members liable for conscription, and constant financial pressures, continuity depends on a mix of good fortune and adaptability. A lot depends on Mr. Tkachov, who has much of the project’s technical knowledge and international connections. He knows that if he is mobilized into a front-line combat role, the operation could grind to a complete halt.
“We try to make ourselves exchangeable,” he says, “but not many people understand the technical side.”
For now, he and his team keep welding and wiring.
Oleksandr Naselenko contributed reporting for this article.
