Rostov-on-Don is the staging post for a crucial lifeline of men and materiel headed to Eastern Ukraine
Every evening, a tiny convoy of unmarked civilian vehicles leaves the Russian city of Rostov-on-Don and drives west across the featureless southern Russian steppe.
At the wheel is a volunteer from the Donetsk People's Republic, the pro-Russian rebel movement fighting an increasingly bloody insurgency with the Ukrainian army, and on board – officially – are food, medicine, and childcare products destined for the besieged civilians and fighters of the rebel republic.
This is the "humanitarian" side of an elaborate, cross-border smuggling operation that provides a vital lifeline to the rebels, and is a major source of friction between Moscow and Kiev.
Tensions were heightened further along the sensitive border area yesterday when Russia reported that three shells fired by Ukrainian troops hit a customs post near the town of Gukovo and two nearby Russian villages, causing damage but no injuries.
Moscow's claim came hours after Ukraine's president, Petro Poroshenko, announced an extension until Monday of the government's ceasefire in the rebellious east of the country.
There is little sign on the Russian side of the border that the attempt to calm hostilities within Ukraine has quelled the desire to help and support the rebels.
The smuggling ring is masterminded by Ekaterina Gubareva, the "foreign minister" of the breakaway "Donetsk Peoples Republic" – a slim, elegantly dressed mother of four.
Her husband Pavel Gubarev declared himself "people's governor" in March and was promptly arrested by the Ukrainian authorities, at which point his wife swiftly went into exile in Rostov.
"We don't carry weapons or fighters, and we don't know anything about that side of things," she insisted on Friday.
But the smugglers' operation gives a fascinating glimpse of a shadowy, cross-border supply network that is also funnelling fighters and materiel to the insurgency – and which the Ukrainian government claims is sponsored by the Russian government.
Supplies, mostly given by Russian citizens, are loaded into small convoys, or often just a single vehicle. The smaller the convoy, the greater the chance of success, one organiser explains.
Ekaterina Gubareva
Exactly where and how they cross the border remains a secret. But once inside Ukraine they are met by rebel fighters who help them by-pass Ukrainian army checkpoints on the main roads.
The movement claims it can send four tons of supplies a day to the rebels in this way, despite the many difficulties and dangers.
"Vehicles are our biggest problem," said Yuri Dubogreg, another organiser. "They get shot at, they break down, very often they never come back. So we need people to donate cars."
There is no doubt that fighters are using similar routes. Rostov-on-Don is the staging point for several groups recruiting volunteer fighters on the internet.
While the organisers declined to be interviewed for this article, several Russian volunteer fighters in eastern Ukraine have previously told The Telegraph that they entered Ukraine via Rostov.
Ukrainian officials accuse Russia not just of turning a blind eye but also of actively facilitating a flow of gunmen, weapons, and hardware – including tanks and rocket launchers.
The rebel leadership makes no secret of the presence of Russian citizens in its ranks, but insists they are "volunteers" and that most of their equipment came from within Ukraine.
At Novo Shakhtinsk, the nearest border crossing to Rostov, Russian border guards said their Ukrainian counterparts had long vanished, leaving the road open to refugees fleeing east and to anyone who wanted to drive west, into Ukraine.
Just over half a mile away, Russian soldiers have dug in defensive positions amongst the trees, the barrels of their armoured fighting vehicles facing the border.
Mrs Gubareva cuts an unlikely figure as a smuggler, and an even less likely one as military commander. But she and her husband – who has since been released and is again helping lead the rebels in Donetsk – are a controversial couple. Mr Gubarev is a former member of a Russian neo-Nazi group called Russian National Unity, which he has said gave him military training.
Mrs Gubareva herself has donned camouflage uniform in her role as foreign minister, and is one of the few prominent female faces in the rebel movement.
It is, she admits, a strange role. Not even Russia recognises the republic, so she has no ambassadors to report to her, and no official diplomacy to carry out, although there is a "representative" office in Moscow.
Her true influence within the rebel movement, which has an opaque command structure that now appears to be dominated by Alexander Borodai, the "prime minister" and a Muscovite, is unclear.
And while Russia is happy to turn a blind eye to her smuggling operation – and the steady drip-feed of more lethal supplies across the border – the Kremlin seems keen to keep its public association with the rebels at arms length.
The battalion's office in a dormitory suburb was donated by a sympathetic local businessman, and she claims supplies they smuggle over the border come exclusively from private donations, mostly from Russian citizens.
One of the most telling episodes came at the end of May, when the bodies of dozens of Russian fighters killed in the fierce battle for Donetsk airport were repatriated to Rostov.
Rebel leaders invited international journalists to escort the convoy in a bid to publicise their plight, but the episode went almost entirely unmentioned in Russian state media.
Most frustratingly of all for the rebels, the Kremlin has steadfastly refused to send conventional military help into Ukraine, despite their repeated appeals.
"It's true that we have appealed to Vladimir Putin for held," conceded Mrs Gubareva, giving her best diplomatic answer.
"But first and foremost we have to rely on ourselves, not on others – this is primarily a civil war. And secondly, we still hope that Mr Putin will respond soon."
By Roland Oliphant
