Spot the Fascists
The Guardian published an eye-opening article about the kind of people acting as the self-appointed pro-Russian separatists in Ukraine, a decidedly unappealing bunch if you ask me.
I wonder if the piece has been read by The Guardian's comment editor, Seumas Milne, who continues to write shamelessly pro-Russian opinion articles even when serious journalists from his own newspaper contradict what he has to say with their eye witness reports from within the danger zone.
Ukraine rebel chief Igor Bezler threatens to execute interviewer
Nicknamed the Demon, leader said to be behind MH17 crash ends rare interview after exploding into a rage and shouting: ‘Don’t think I won’t shoot you’
Igor Bezler, in green fatigues and without his walrus moustache, is at a briefing of policemen in Gorlovka. Photograph: Alexei Kravtsov
By Shaun Walker in Gorlovka - The Guardian
With a walrus moustache, a fiery temper and a reputation for brutality, Igor Bezler is the most feared of all the rebel leaders in eastern Ukraine. Nicknamed Bes, or “the Demon”, he is regarded as something of a loose cannon, even by other rebels, who speak about him in hushed tones. If the Ukrainian security services, the SBU, are to be believed, the Demon and a group of his men were responsible for shooting down Malaysia Airlines flight MH17 over the region a fortnight ago.
According to the recording of a phone call allegedly made two minutes before the disaster, the Demon was told: “A bird is flying towards you.” He asked whether it was small or big, and was told that it was hard to see, as it was flying high above the clouds. In another recording, apparently made 20 minutes later, the Demon reported to his interlocutor, supposedly a Russian intelligence official, that a plane had been shot down. Bezler said the recording was real, but referred to a different incident: as well as allegedly bringing down MH17, the rebels have shot down 10 Ukrainian aircraft.
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The Demon hardly ever gives interviews, but a Russian journalist and I managed to secure one, so we set off last Thursdayto visit his headquarters in the town of Gorlovka, a 40-minute drive along deserted roads from the regional capital of Donetsk.
Previously a normal east Ukrainian town, with decaying Soviet-era industrial plants and a political elite that skimmed off the financial flows that might have helped lift it from its decrepit state, Gorlovka has become the Demon’s fiefdom in the three months since the uprising started.
At the entrance to the town was a checkpoint with barricades of sandbags and armoured personnel carriers pointing their guns at the road. It was manned by rebels armed with Kalashnikovs and rocket-propelled grenade launchers. The man on the post, who introduced himself as Gorynych – a three-headed dragon of Russian folklore – did not want to let us pass, but we explained we had an interview with the Demon himself. Phone calls were made, and we were allowed to enter the town.
By Shaun Walker in Gorlovka - The Guardian
With a walrus moustache, a fiery temper and a reputation for brutality, Igor Bezler is the most feared of all the rebel leaders in eastern Ukraine. Nicknamed Bes, or “the Demon”, he is regarded as something of a loose cannon, even by other rebels, who speak about him in hushed tones. If the Ukrainian security services, the SBU, are to be believed, the Demon and a group of his men were responsible for shooting down Malaysia Airlines flight MH17 over the region a fortnight ago.
According to the recording of a phone call allegedly made two minutes before the disaster, the Demon was told: “A bird is flying towards you.” He asked whether it was small or big, and was told that it was hard to see, as it was flying high above the clouds. In another recording, apparently made 20 minutes later, the Demon reported to his interlocutor, supposedly a Russian intelligence official, that a plane had been shot down. Bezler said the recording was real, but referred to a different incident: as well as allegedly bringing down MH17, the rebels have shot down 10 Ukrainian aircraft.
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The Demon hardly ever gives interviews, but a Russian journalist and I managed to secure one, so we set off last Thursdayto visit his headquarters in the town of Gorlovka, a 40-minute drive along deserted roads from the regional capital of Donetsk.
Previously a normal east Ukrainian town, with decaying Soviet-era industrial plants and a political elite that skimmed off the financial flows that might have helped lift it from its decrepit state, Gorlovka has become the Demon’s fiefdom in the three months since the uprising started.
At the entrance to the town was a checkpoint with barricades of sandbags and armoured personnel carriers pointing their guns at the road. It was manned by rebels armed with Kalashnikovs and rocket-propelled grenade launchers. The man on the post, who introduced himself as Gorynych – a three-headed dragon of Russian folklore – did not want to let us pass, but we explained we had an interview with the Demon himself. Phone calls were made, and we were allowed to enter the town.
Debris of MH17 is scattered near the village of Grabovo in eastern Ukraine where the plane was shot down. Photograph: Dmitry Lovetsky/AP
Arriving at the government building that the Demon’s fighters had seized at the start of the uprising, we were led through several barricades, made up of sandbags and stacked ammunition boxes, and brought to the first floor, where there was a waiting area for those who sought an audience with the Demon. On the wall, there was a portrait of Vladimir Lenin and one of Soviet-era bard Vladimir Vysotsky, with the caption: “A thief should sit in prison.”
Periodically, fighters came dashing up the stairs with news for the boss. Before they entered his office, they had to leave their telephones and weapons on a table. One man with a Cossack fur hat deposited two pistols, a Kalashnikov, a foot-long dagger and an iPhone 5 on the table before he was allowed into the Demon’s inner sanctum.
While we waited, a group of fighters made us tea in plastic cups with a lilac-coloured kettle, and we talked about life in the warzone. The rumble of shelling in the distance was audible. It had been getting closer every day, said the fighters, as the Ukrainian army continued retaking towns, not without civilian loss of life.
Some of the fighters were locals; others had come from Russia and attended a training camp in Rostov, across the border, before being sent to the Demon (pictured below). One was a local who had lived in Moscow and worked as a lighting engineer for photo shoots. He found holding up an umbrella all day demeaning work, and longed for something more meaningful. When the insurgency started, he returned to his home town, and now he looked every inch the fighter, with a flowing beard, irregular fatigues, and a waistcoat with pockets for knives and ammunition.
The fighters showed me a room in disarray, filing cabinets tipped over and documents strewn across the floor. In the corner, incongruously, was a petting zoo of 10 rabbits. One of them was a huge, white specimen that the fighters had nicknamed Yatsenyuk, after the leader of the Maidan protests in Kiev, who went on to become prime minister and resigned last week. They said they planned to skin, cook and eat Yatsenyuk soon. It was unclear if they were joking. In the bathroom, instead of toilet paper, a copy of the Ukrainian legal code sat on the holder, half of its pages ripped out.
Arriving at the government building that the Demon’s fighters had seized at the start of the uprising, we were led through several barricades, made up of sandbags and stacked ammunition boxes, and brought to the first floor, where there was a waiting area for those who sought an audience with the Demon. On the wall, there was a portrait of Vladimir Lenin and one of Soviet-era bard Vladimir Vysotsky, with the caption: “A thief should sit in prison.”
Periodically, fighters came dashing up the stairs with news for the boss. Before they entered his office, they had to leave their telephones and weapons on a table. One man with a Cossack fur hat deposited two pistols, a Kalashnikov, a foot-long dagger and an iPhone 5 on the table before he was allowed into the Demon’s inner sanctum.
While we waited, a group of fighters made us tea in plastic cups with a lilac-coloured kettle, and we talked about life in the warzone. The rumble of shelling in the distance was audible. It had been getting closer every day, said the fighters, as the Ukrainian army continued retaking towns, not without civilian loss of life.
Some of the fighters were locals; others had come from Russia and attended a training camp in Rostov, across the border, before being sent to the Demon (pictured below). One was a local who had lived in Moscow and worked as a lighting engineer for photo shoots. He found holding up an umbrella all day demeaning work, and longed for something more meaningful. When the insurgency started, he returned to his home town, and now he looked every inch the fighter, with a flowing beard, irregular fatigues, and a waistcoat with pockets for knives and ammunition.
The fighters showed me a room in disarray, filing cabinets tipped over and documents strewn across the floor. In the corner, incongruously, was a petting zoo of 10 rabbits. One of them was a huge, white specimen that the fighters had nicknamed Yatsenyuk, after the leader of the Maidan protests in Kiev, who went on to become prime minister and resigned last week. They said they planned to skin, cook and eat Yatsenyuk soon. It was unclear if they were joking. In the bathroom, instead of toilet paper, a copy of the Ukrainian legal code sat on the holder, half of its pages ripped out.
Igor Bezler, nicknamed the Demon, in an image taken earlier this year. Photograph: Alexei Kravtsov
The door to the Demon’s office opened and the man himself emerged, cigarette in hand, wearing a telnyashka – the stripy Russian naval vest – underneath military fatigues. In an instant the fighters were on their feet, standing rigid and saluting. One meekly explained that two journalists were waiting to see him.
“I’m busy. We will talk later. For now, show them the prisoners,” he snapped, striding down the stairs surrounded by heavily armed men.
The Demon was born in Crimea as Igor Bezler and lived for a long time in Russia before moving to Gorlovka, where he worked for a time as the director of the local funeral parlour. The SBU claims he is a Russian military intelligence agent who coordinates his actions directly with Moscow. He is one of a number of key commanders of the rebel movement who Kiev claims are Russian agents, including the mysterious figure of Igor Girkin, nicknamed Strelkov or “the Shooter”, the commander-in-chief of the Donetsk resistance. An enthusiast of military re-enactments, Strelkov himself has admitted he was a Russian agent until last year, and that he took part in the Russian takeover of Crimea.
It is possible that men like Bezler and Strelkov are not directly carrying out Moscow’s orders but are proxy agents with handlers two, three or four steps removed from the Kremlin or other official Russian structures; players who can be directed from Moscow but who are also liable to go rogue at any time.
Bezler, Strelkov and many of the other commanders in the patchwork of rebel groups in eastern Ukraine have all taken hostages. At the headquarters in Gorlovka, we were led down to the ground floor and into two small rooms filled with mattresses. In one of the rooms I met Vasyl Budik, a local journalist arrested for supposed links to Pravy Sektor, a Ukrainian far-right group. He had been a prisoner for nearly three months, and was subjected to a mock execution on video to pressure Kiev into agreeing an exchange of the remaining prisoners. There was also a 64-year-old Swede, who did not want to say what he was doing when captured (though he said he was not involved in combat), and a number of Ukrainian soldiers. One of them was with his wife; she had travelled from Kiev and voluntarily entered captivity so she could be with her husband.
As we talked, guards came for Budik and took him up to the main courtyard. A van had arrived, serving as an impromptu hearse, carrying the body of a rebel fighter who had died in combat. The Demon and the other fighters crowded round the open doors of the van to glance at the open coffin and pay their respects. Budik was also emotional.
“I knew him well, since he was eight years old,” he said. “My wife and I would bring in homeless kids or orphans and try to give them a decent upbringing. I taught him boxing, tried to give him a grounding in life. I helped him out a lot. He was a good lad.”
I remarked what an extraordinary testament it was to the mindless, fratricidal nature of the conflict that he was mourning the death of one of his captors. Budik chuckled. “You think that’s weird. They’ve got a high-ranking SBU official as a prisoner here, and one of his in-laws is guarding him,” he said.
The Demon materialised outside the rooms holding the hostages and told us he was ready to talk, but as we turned to walk to his office, he became agitated over the question of why he keeps hostages. He looked at us with furious eyes.
“The only reason they are here is because they are Ukrainian army soldiers,” he said, gesturing at the rooms with the hostages in. “Those who are fighting with the Ukrainian army, we keep as prisoners. Those who are fighting with volunteer battalions, we question them and then shoot them on the spot. Why should we show any pity to them?”
The door to the Demon’s office opened and the man himself emerged, cigarette in hand, wearing a telnyashka – the stripy Russian naval vest – underneath military fatigues. In an instant the fighters were on their feet, standing rigid and saluting. One meekly explained that two journalists were waiting to see him.
“I’m busy. We will talk later. For now, show them the prisoners,” he snapped, striding down the stairs surrounded by heavily armed men.
The Demon was born in Crimea as Igor Bezler and lived for a long time in Russia before moving to Gorlovka, where he worked for a time as the director of the local funeral parlour. The SBU claims he is a Russian military intelligence agent who coordinates his actions directly with Moscow. He is one of a number of key commanders of the rebel movement who Kiev claims are Russian agents, including the mysterious figure of Igor Girkin, nicknamed Strelkov or “the Shooter”, the commander-in-chief of the Donetsk resistance. An enthusiast of military re-enactments, Strelkov himself has admitted he was a Russian agent until last year, and that he took part in the Russian takeover of Crimea.
It is possible that men like Bezler and Strelkov are not directly carrying out Moscow’s orders but are proxy agents with handlers two, three or four steps removed from the Kremlin or other official Russian structures; players who can be directed from Moscow but who are also liable to go rogue at any time.
Bezler, Strelkov and many of the other commanders in the patchwork of rebel groups in eastern Ukraine have all taken hostages. At the headquarters in Gorlovka, we were led down to the ground floor and into two small rooms filled with mattresses. In one of the rooms I met Vasyl Budik, a local journalist arrested for supposed links to Pravy Sektor, a Ukrainian far-right group. He had been a prisoner for nearly three months, and was subjected to a mock execution on video to pressure Kiev into agreeing an exchange of the remaining prisoners. There was also a 64-year-old Swede, who did not want to say what he was doing when captured (though he said he was not involved in combat), and a number of Ukrainian soldiers. One of them was with his wife; she had travelled from Kiev and voluntarily entered captivity so she could be with her husband.
As we talked, guards came for Budik and took him up to the main courtyard. A van had arrived, serving as an impromptu hearse, carrying the body of a rebel fighter who had died in combat. The Demon and the other fighters crowded round the open doors of the van to glance at the open coffin and pay their respects. Budik was also emotional.
“I knew him well, since he was eight years old,” he said. “My wife and I would bring in homeless kids or orphans and try to give them a decent upbringing. I taught him boxing, tried to give him a grounding in life. I helped him out a lot. He was a good lad.”
I remarked what an extraordinary testament it was to the mindless, fratricidal nature of the conflict that he was mourning the death of one of his captors. Budik chuckled. “You think that’s weird. They’ve got a high-ranking SBU official as a prisoner here, and one of his in-laws is guarding him,” he said.
The Demon materialised outside the rooms holding the hostages and told us he was ready to talk, but as we turned to walk to his office, he became agitated over the question of why he keeps hostages. He looked at us with furious eyes.
“The only reason they are here is because they are Ukrainian army soldiers,” he said, gesturing at the rooms with the hostages in. “Those who are fighting with the Ukrainian army, we keep as prisoners. Those who are fighting with volunteer battalions, we question them and then shoot them on the spot. Why should we show any pity to them?”
Igor Strelkov, a pro-Russian rebel commander, speaks to the media in the city of Donetsk. Photograph: AP Photo/Dmitry Lovetsky
His voice grew louder as he grew more angry. “You should see what they have done to my people. They chop off their heads and shit in the helmets! They are fascists! So why should we stand on ceremony with them? Questioning, an execution, that’s it. I will hang those fuckers from lampposts!”
By this point he was shouting at the top of his voice, and suddenly noticed that the Russian journalist I was with had her Dictaphone on, and that I was making notes in my notebook. He grabbed the Dictaphone from her hands and ordered one of the fighters to throw it at the wall. Pulling my notebook from my hands, he began to rip out the pages frantically.
Protesting only made things worse. He barked commands at his subordinates: “Burn their notebooks! Seize their electronics! Search everything for compromising material and then destroy it! If you find anything, execute them as spies!”
Working in eastern Ukraine has been difficult for all journalists and anger and threats are commonplace. This was the first time, however, that I felt a very real sense of danger. “Don’t think for one minute I will hesitate to have you shot,” he yelled at the pair of us.
We were taken into a room where our bags were rummaged through by underlings, the gravity of the situation underlined by just how scared the rebel fighters themselves appeared to be.
Twenty minutes later, as a nervous woman was methodically flicking through our possessions and I was clandestinely deleting all photographs and messages from the phone in my pocket they had not noticed, the Demon appeared at the door again, smoking a cigarette. He had calmed down, somewhat. “Give them back their things. Drive them to the checkpoint, kick them out and never let them in,” he barked. We left hastily, and I never did get to ask the Demon about his alleged role in shooting down MH17.
I may never get another chance. Three days after our visit, on Sunday, Gorlovka was ruthlessly shelled with Grad rockets. Meaning “hail” in Russian, the Grad can launch up to 40 rockets in a matter of seconds, and is a spectacularly imprecise weapon designed to inflict maximum casualties. The missiles hailed down on central Gorlovka without warning, with plumes of smoke rising from buildings across the town.
The Demon was not there when the attack came; the Ukrainians say he has fled, his fighters say he left Gorlovka on a mission. But the missiles missed the headquarters anyway, coming down in various residential areas.
As the conflict enters what looks like an endgame, both sides are more resolute than ever. When the bodies began to fall from the sky earlier this month, the downing of MH17 seemed like an event so outlandish, so gruesome, that some thought it might just act to jolt the players in the region’s conflict to their senses.
A collateral massacre whose victims had no stake in the conflict on the ground, it was surely enough to end a war that has appeared largely manufactured, but has nevertheless cost hundreds of civilian lives.
Instead, the fighting has intensified. The pro-Russian rebels have continued to down Ukrainian planes and Kiev claims Russia is still funnelling weapons and fighters across the border. Ukrainian forces, meanwhile, have intensified their attacks on the rebels and appear to have used indiscriminate missile systems against civilian areas. The conflict, far from calming down, has entered its most vicious stage yet.
His voice grew louder as he grew more angry. “You should see what they have done to my people. They chop off their heads and shit in the helmets! They are fascists! So why should we stand on ceremony with them? Questioning, an execution, that’s it. I will hang those fuckers from lampposts!”
By this point he was shouting at the top of his voice, and suddenly noticed that the Russian journalist I was with had her Dictaphone on, and that I was making notes in my notebook. He grabbed the Dictaphone from her hands and ordered one of the fighters to throw it at the wall. Pulling my notebook from my hands, he began to rip out the pages frantically.
Protesting only made things worse. He barked commands at his subordinates: “Burn their notebooks! Seize their electronics! Search everything for compromising material and then destroy it! If you find anything, execute them as spies!”
Working in eastern Ukraine has been difficult for all journalists and anger and threats are commonplace. This was the first time, however, that I felt a very real sense of danger. “Don’t think for one minute I will hesitate to have you shot,” he yelled at the pair of us.
We were taken into a room where our bags were rummaged through by underlings, the gravity of the situation underlined by just how scared the rebel fighters themselves appeared to be.
Twenty minutes later, as a nervous woman was methodically flicking through our possessions and I was clandestinely deleting all photographs and messages from the phone in my pocket they had not noticed, the Demon appeared at the door again, smoking a cigarette. He had calmed down, somewhat. “Give them back their things. Drive them to the checkpoint, kick them out and never let them in,” he barked. We left hastily, and I never did get to ask the Demon about his alleged role in shooting down MH17.
I may never get another chance. Three days after our visit, on Sunday, Gorlovka was ruthlessly shelled with Grad rockets. Meaning “hail” in Russian, the Grad can launch up to 40 rockets in a matter of seconds, and is a spectacularly imprecise weapon designed to inflict maximum casualties. The missiles hailed down on central Gorlovka without warning, with plumes of smoke rising from buildings across the town.
The Demon was not there when the attack came; the Ukrainians say he has fled, his fighters say he left Gorlovka on a mission. But the missiles missed the headquarters anyway, coming down in various residential areas.
As the conflict enters what looks like an endgame, both sides are more resolute than ever. When the bodies began to fall from the sky earlier this month, the downing of MH17 seemed like an event so outlandish, so gruesome, that some thought it might just act to jolt the players in the region’s conflict to their senses.
A collateral massacre whose victims had no stake in the conflict on the ground, it was surely enough to end a war that has appeared largely manufactured, but has nevertheless cost hundreds of civilian lives.
Instead, the fighting has intensified. The pro-Russian rebels have continued to down Ukrainian planes and Kiev claims Russia is still funnelling weapons and fighters across the border. Ukrainian forces, meanwhile, have intensified their attacks on the rebels and appear to have used indiscriminate missile systems against civilian areas. The conflict, far from calming down, has entered its most vicious stage yet.
An armoured vehicle manned by pro-Russian rebels leaves Donetsk in the direction of the MH17 crash site. Photograph: Hollandse Hoogte/Rex
Around 13 people died in Gorlovka on Sunday, including a mother and her young child. A haunting photograph of the pair lying on the ground, the mother’s body badly mangled but one arm still cradling the corpse of her child, was shared on social media and led to another round of both sides loudly blaming the other for the atrocity.
The headquarters of the Ukrainian anti-terrorist operation denied it had used Grad missiles on Gorlovka, instead blaming the rebels, saying they had carried out the attack to “discredit the Ukrainian army” among the town’s residents.
Ukrainian forces have repeatedly denied using Grads against residential areas, and it is true that both sides have the missile launchers in their arsenals. However, Human Rights Watch found that on the outskirts of Donetsk there was compelling evidence that shelling had come from Ukrainian positions.
The rebels have a healthy supply of weaponry and, if Kiev is believed, are still receiving shipments from Russia. But they are no match for the sheer size of the Ukrainian army and the various volunteer regiments fighting on Kiev’s side, whatever state of disarray the government forces may be in.
Deep down, they all expect to die here. One of the Demon’s men, a jovial Muscovite, gave us a number to call so we could tell his relatives where to find his body when he is killed. None of his family knew he had come to Ukraine to fight. “There is nowhere for us to go now. We will fight until the end, until the last drop of our blood is spilled and the last one of us is dead,” he said.
The question is how much more civilian blood will be spilled before that happens.
Around 13 people died in Gorlovka on Sunday, including a mother and her young child. A haunting photograph of the pair lying on the ground, the mother’s body badly mangled but one arm still cradling the corpse of her child, was shared on social media and led to another round of both sides loudly blaming the other for the atrocity.
The headquarters of the Ukrainian anti-terrorist operation denied it had used Grad missiles on Gorlovka, instead blaming the rebels, saying they had carried out the attack to “discredit the Ukrainian army” among the town’s residents.
Ukrainian forces have repeatedly denied using Grads against residential areas, and it is true that both sides have the missile launchers in their arsenals. However, Human Rights Watch found that on the outskirts of Donetsk there was compelling evidence that shelling had come from Ukrainian positions.
The rebels have a healthy supply of weaponry and, if Kiev is believed, are still receiving shipments from Russia. But they are no match for the sheer size of the Ukrainian army and the various volunteer regiments fighting on Kiev’s side, whatever state of disarray the government forces may be in.
Deep down, they all expect to die here. One of the Demon’s men, a jovial Muscovite, gave us a number to call so we could tell his relatives where to find his body when he is killed. None of his family knew he had come to Ukraine to fight. “There is nowhere for us to go now. We will fight until the end, until the last drop of our blood is spilled and the last one of us is dead,” he said.
The question is how much more civilian blood will be spilled before that happens.
Masked pro-Russian fighters stand guard inside the regional police building in Gorlovka. Photograph: Alexander Khudoteply/APF/Getty
Pro-Russian militants stand guard as investigators work at the crash site of the Malaysia Airlines Flight MH17. Photograph: Bulent Kilic/AFP/Getty Images
Spot the Fascists (21 July 2014)
Russia's role in the shooting down of Malaysian Flight MH17 is becoming clearer by the day and this report from The Observer highlights Russia's complicity in the vile behaviour of the fascist thugs masquerading as pro-Russian freedom fighters.
MH17: armed rebels fuel chaos as rotting corpses pile up on the roadside
Pro-Russia gunmen in standoff with international investigators as reports grow of looting and the removal of evidence
By Oksana Grytsenko in Grabovo - The Observer
A resident surveys the wreckage at the Flight MH17 crash site in Ukraine. Photograph: Alexander Khudoteply/AFP/Getty Images
Two days after Malaysia Airlines flight MH17 was shot down over easternUkraine, the road near the village of Grabovo, where the aircraft crashed, is still lined with bodies.
Rescue workers, most of them of unknown provenance, are slowly moving corpses from where they hit the ground and piling them on the side of the road. The victims are then covered with black tarpaulins. Beside them, the belongings of the dead passengers have been piled in heaps: dozens of suitcases, rucksacks, a red summer hat, a broken laptop and a stuffed toy monkey. After each foray into the fields, workers clean their shoes with sticks because the ground is sodden from persistent rain.
What will happen to the bodies now, to the sons, daughters, siblings, husbands and wives of grieving relatives around the world? No one really seems to know.
At Grabovo, the scene is one of utter confusion. Men in masks arrive and depart in fleets of cars, including one painted with the yellow-and-blue Ukrainian flag, supposedly from the government emergencies ministry. All the men hold guns.
"You are now at the place where the warfare is going on, so people with weapons shouldn't embarrass you," said the rebel commander, who gave his nom de guerre as Grumpy. He added that the corpses would probably be carried to the mortuaries at Snezhnoe or Donetsk, but he didn't know for sure.
There have been Ukrainian claims that several bodies went missing during the night. While most of the corpses have been covered with tarpaulins, some body parts were shovelled into sacks. The smell at the site, as the heat of the Ukrainian summer takes its toll, is becoming unbearable.
Ukraine's foreign ministry has said it will bring the bodies to the eastern city of Kharkiv for autopsies, and has promised to set up information centres and provide free accommodation for relatives. But in the chaos of the crash site, this seems an unlikely scenario: there is no sign that the broad access promised by the rebels to the crash site is actually being granted.
A spokesman for the Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) said that his team had "evolving access" to the site on Saturday.
When I first arrived on Saturday, two men in military fatigues at the roadside, armed with Kalashnikovs, were blocking access to the crash site itself. "The experts and investigators of the prosecutor general are now working there," I was told by one.
The international community is unlikely to be impressed by these endeavours, or by an investigation that is being carried out by the "prosecutor general" of the People's Republic of Donetsk – the quasi-statelet that has existed here only since referendums earlier this year.
Indeed, many suspect the rebels of engaging in a cover-up to hide their own involvement in the destruction of the Malaysian Airlines flight.
On Friday, the OSCE team was barred from the site, and on Saturday the international monitoring mission, which arrived again in a convoy of white cars, was initially turned back by Grumpy and his men.
"Two-thirds of the OSCE observers work for intelligence of European countries or the US," he claimed, repeating his distrust for all western monitors – a constant rebel refrain throughout the conflict in east Ukraine. Two sets of OSCE monitors have been kidnapped and held hostage at various points over the past few months by rebels.
However, after brief negotiations and a nervy standoff, the observers were allowed in to see the crash site. Together with journalists, they were permitted to walk along the road but were warned – by dozens of armed people who were tracking them from the nearby fields –not to leave the tarmac.
Several bodies, badly disfigured and still uncovered, lay across their path. According to Aleksey Megrin, the leader of the rescue workers, around 190 bodies had already been picked up by his men. "We are finding bodies and bringing them to the place where rebels tell us to bring them," he said. "We don't know what kind of police are working here: Ukrainian or Russian."
Several times, rebels shot into the air to warn journalists who were getting too near to the bodies lying around them. On Friday the rebels had also fired warning shots at the OSCE team to prevent them from getting too close to the wreckage.
Despite reports of looting, fighters and local people say they have been doing their best to collect evidence and preserve the human remains.
One local resident, Aleksandr Mytyshchenko, whose house lies close to the disaster scene, said that he and his wife had initially thought that the downed plane was swooping low to drop bombs on them. Then came the blast, which embedded pieces of plane into the walls of his house.
Mytyshchenko pulled them out and dumped them next to the side of the road. "The smell was just horrible. I couldn't bear it," he added.
Andriy Lysenko, a spokesman for Ukraine's national security and defence council, said rebels were now taking away all evidence of the disaster that had been gathered by emergency workers. "They [emergency workers] are working under an armed threat," he said.
On Saturday, the Ukrainian government accused the rebels of deliberately removing corpses from the site and destroying the evidence.
"Terrorists brought 38 bodies to the mortuary in Donetsk," the government statement read, adding that it was presumed that Russian experts would perform the autopsies there. "The terrorists are seeking out heavy load trucks to carry the plane wreckage to Russia," the government added.
Grumpy neither denied nor confirmed the claims that some bodies had been moved to Donetsk. "Maybe they did it, maybe not," he said. "I personally didn't do that."
The national security and defence council said emergencies ministry staff had checked roughly seven square miles around the crash site. But the workers had not been free to conduct a normal investigation, it added. "The fighters have let the emergencies ministry workers in there but are not allowing them to take anything from the area," Lysenko said. "The fighters are taking away all that has been found."
Meanwhile in the Netherlands, forensic teams have begun collecting material, including DNA samples from relatives, photographs of victims and details of any distinguishing features, to help them identify the remains.
Malaysia Airlines said 193 of the 298 passengers and crew killed in Thursday's aviation disaster were Dutch, 43 were Malaysian, 27 from Australia, 12 from Indonesia, 10 from the UK, four each from Germany and Belgium, three from the Philippines, and one each from Canada and New Zealand.
The airline said it was assessing the security situation in Ukraine before taking any decision about flying next of kin to the country.
A spokesman said that family members were being cared for in Amsterdam, while a team from Malaysia Airlines, including security officials, has flown to Ukraine.
What we know so far
Social media
A posting on an account linked to a pro-Russia separatist leader in Ukraine, on a Russian social network site, claims that militants shot down at least one Ukrainian military plane near the Donetsk region town of Torez. The post has been deleted.
Photographs
Ukrainian government adviser Anton Herashchenko claims the plane was hit by a missile fired by a Buk SA-11 launcher, a Russian-made, surface-to-air missile system. Photographs of such a launcher in the town of Snezhne, near the crash site, appear on the internet. Later, photographs of a Buk being moved on a transporter from Ukraine to Russia appear.
The intercepts
Ukrainian authorities release a recording they claim is a conversationbetween pro-Russia militants admitting to shooting down the plane. A rebel fighter going by the nom de guerre of "Major" is heard telling another comrade called "Grek" that a group of fighters had brought the airliner down. "The plane broke up in the air, near the Petropavlovskaya mines. The first [casualty] has been found. It was a woman. A civilian," he says. At 5.42pm, "Major" acknowledges the plane was civilian: "Hell. It's almost 100% certain that it's a civilian plane."
In another recording, a Russian officer called Igor Bezler is apparently heard reporting on the downing of the jet to his superior in Russian military intelligence, Colonel Vasily Geranin: "A plane has just been shot down … They've gone to search and photograph the plane. It is smoking."
In a third conversation, a rebel fighter says: "It turned out to be a passenger plane. It fell in Hrabove area. There's a sea of women and children …"
Satellite detection
Satellite images show a plume of smoke left by a ground-to-air missile that brought down Malaysia Airlines flight 17. The images help to compile an intelligence analysis shared with the UN security council by the US ambassador Samantha Power, which she claimed showed the airliner was "likely downed by a surface-to-air missile, an SA-11, operated from a separatist-held location in eastern Ukraine". The location of the missile launch appears crucial.
"It strains credulity to think [the missile] could be used by separatists without at least some measure of Russian support and technical assistance," said Pentagon spokesman Rear Admiral John Kirby.
Spot the Fascists (31 May 2014)
Here's another disturbing report from the BBC about the men in balaclavas in Ukraine who have appointed themselves as protectors of the people while disguising their identities from fellow citizens and the wider world.
Now unless these people are not who they claim they are, I can't think of a good reason for them to hide their identities or be so evasive about their background.
Ukraine crisis: Meeting the little green men
By Steven Rosenberg
BBC News, Donetsk
BBC News, Donetsk
Pro-Russia activists have occupied government buildings with relatively little difficulty
Nikolai stood near the local council building in Konstantinovka, leaning on his walking stick and shaking his head at the scene in front of him.
Masked gunmen in camouflage had seized the building and were guarding the entrance. Meanwhile, Pro-Russia activists were building barricades with concrete blocks and sandbags and singing along to а pop song about the Soviet Union.
Back in the USSR, Nikolai had worked for Soviet military intelligence. He's convinced that the men with guns here are from Russia.
"I went up to them," Nikolai told me. "They had modern Russian automatic rifles. I told them: I don't believe you are Ukrainians. You're from Russia. From GRU Military Intelligence. You can't cheat me. I'm from the same system."
"One of them replied: 'Ah, there's no tricking an old wolf, is there?' I'm sure they've been sent here and paid to make revolts and calamities."'We're all Russian'
I asked one of the armed "men in green" where he came from.
"Ukraine," he replied curtly. Then he smiled: "Actually, there's no such nationality as Ukrainian. That's an Austria-Hungarian deception. We're Russian. We're all Russian. And this land isn't Ukraine: it's Novorossiya - and we will defend it."
Thirty kilometres (19 miles) away in Kramatorsk, pro-Russia militants have occupied the administration building there, too. Inside I met Vadim Ilovaisky.
Nikolai stood near the local council building in Konstantinovka, leaning on his walking stick and shaking his head at the scene in front of him.
Masked gunmen in camouflage had seized the building and were guarding the entrance. Meanwhile, Pro-Russia activists were building barricades with concrete blocks and sandbags and singing along to а pop song about the Soviet Union.
Back in the USSR, Nikolai had worked for Soviet military intelligence. He's convinced that the men with guns here are from Russia.
"I went up to them," Nikolai told me. "They had modern Russian automatic rifles. I told them: I don't believe you are Ukrainians. You're from Russia. From GRU Military Intelligence. You can't cheat me. I'm from the same system."
"One of them replied: 'Ah, there's no tricking an old wolf, is there?' I'm sure they've been sent here and paid to make revolts and calamities."'We're all Russian'
I asked one of the armed "men in green" where he came from.
"Ukraine," he replied curtly. Then he smiled: "Actually, there's no such nationality as Ukrainian. That's an Austria-Hungarian deception. We're Russian. We're all Russian. And this land isn't Ukraine: it's Novorossiya - and we will defend it."
Thirty kilometres (19 miles) away in Kramatorsk, pro-Russia militants have occupied the administration building there, too. Inside I met Vadim Ilovaisky.
Vadim Ilovaisky says he has progressed from PR consultant to military commandant
He introduced himself as the town's new 'Military Commandant'.
He was sitting in army fatigues in the office of the deputy mayor, poring over maps of the region (the deputy mayor, he informed me, was on sick leave). The Military Commandant pointed out the aquarium in the corner and assured me that he was taking good care of the deputy mayor's fish.
I asked Vadim where he was from.
'I'm a Cossack," he told me, "my grandfather and great-grandfather were from Stavropol region (in southern Russia)."
"In civilian life, I'm a PR consultant. But as a Cossack commander I took part in the Crimea campaign. I'm a citizen of Ukraine."
When asked where he lives now, he was evasive: "My home," he replied, "is the building I'm sitting in."
He introduced himself as the town's new 'Military Commandant'.
He was sitting in army fatigues in the office of the deputy mayor, poring over maps of the region (the deputy mayor, he informed me, was on sick leave). The Military Commandant pointed out the aquarium in the corner and assured me that he was taking good care of the deputy mayor's fish.
I asked Vadim where he was from.
'I'm a Cossack," he told me, "my grandfather and great-grandfather were from Stavropol region (in southern Russia)."
"In civilian life, I'm a PR consultant. But as a Cossack commander I took part in the Crimea campaign. I'm a citizen of Ukraine."
When asked where he lives now, he was evasive: "My home," he replied, "is the building I'm sitting in."
'Taped conversations'
Like the veteran military intelligence officer I met in Konstantinovka, the West, too, is convinced that there is a direct link between Moscow and the pro-Russia militia that has been seizing government buildings and police stations with impunity across Eastern Ukraine.
According to The Daily Beast, in a recent closed door meeting, the US Secretary of State John Kerry revealed that the US had obtained "taped conversations of intelligence operatives (in Ukraine) taking their orders from Moscow".
Kiev alleges that Igor Strelkov (right) is a Russian officer from Moscow
Washington had already accused Russia of continuing "to fund, co-ordinate and fuel a heavily armed separatist movement" in Ukraine.
The Ukrainian government alleges that the commander of pro-Russia militants in eastern Ukraine - Igor Strelkov - is a Russian military officer. Kiev claims that his real name is Igor Girkin and that he is from Moscow.
This week he was among the 15 individuals sanctioned by the European Union. The EU identified him as "staff of the Main Intelligence Directorate of the General Staff of the Armed Forces of the Russian Federation (GRU)".
In an interview with the Russian tabloid Komsomolskaya Pravda last weekend, Commander "Strelkov" claimed that "more than half, or maybe two-thirds" of his force were Ukrainians. "Many of them," he said, "had battle experience, many had fought in the Russian army…"
Evaporating power
Russia denies having troops or operatives on the ground in Ukraine. Moscow maintains that the militias and "self-defence forces" which have sprung up in eastern Ukraine are spontaneous demonstrations of people power sparked by fear of "fascists" in power in Kiev.
But if Russia is orchestrating this revolt, what does that tell us about Moscow's influence in eastern Ukraine and the level of control Kiev has?
Judging by the ease with which pro-Russia groups have been seizing key buildings, in many cases simply walking in and taking over, the power of central government has been evaporating here.
Washington had already accused Russia of continuing "to fund, co-ordinate and fuel a heavily armed separatist movement" in Ukraine.
The Ukrainian government alleges that the commander of pro-Russia militants in eastern Ukraine - Igor Strelkov - is a Russian military officer. Kiev claims that his real name is Igor Girkin and that he is from Moscow.
This week he was among the 15 individuals sanctioned by the European Union. The EU identified him as "staff of the Main Intelligence Directorate of the General Staff of the Armed Forces of the Russian Federation (GRU)".
In an interview with the Russian tabloid Komsomolskaya Pravda last weekend, Commander "Strelkov" claimed that "more than half, or maybe two-thirds" of his force were Ukrainians. "Many of them," he said, "had battle experience, many had fought in the Russian army…"
Evaporating power
Russia denies having troops or operatives on the ground in Ukraine. Moscow maintains that the militias and "self-defence forces" which have sprung up in eastern Ukraine are spontaneous demonstrations of people power sparked by fear of "fascists" in power in Kiev.
But if Russia is orchestrating this revolt, what does that tell us about Moscow's influence in eastern Ukraine and the level of control Kiev has?
Judging by the ease with which pro-Russia groups have been seizing key buildings, in many cases simply walking in and taking over, the power of central government has been evaporating here.
The power of Kiev's government has been rapidly deteriorating in eastern Ukraine
Even Ukraine's acting President Olexander Turchynov has admitted that in Donetsk and Luhansk regions security personnel "tasked with the protection of citizens" were "helpless."
Even worse, "some units," he claimed, "either aid or co-operate with terrorist groups".
If President Putin's plan is to weaken, or even split Ukraine, he may not need to send in Russian tanks.
Amid the chaos, the violence and the fear in eastern Ukraine, deep divisions have already emerged.
And, for now, Kiev appears incapable of holding the country together.
Even Ukraine's acting President Olexander Turchynov has admitted that in Donetsk and Luhansk regions security personnel "tasked with the protection of citizens" were "helpless."
Even worse, "some units," he claimed, "either aid or co-operate with terrorist groups".
If President Putin's plan is to weaken, or even split Ukraine, he may not need to send in Russian tanks.
Amid the chaos, the violence and the fear in eastern Ukraine, deep divisions have already emerged.
And, for now, Kiev appears incapable of holding the country together.
