‘The Child on the Train’ takes the reader on a journey in, around and through the war in Ukraine

By Paul R. Huard for Ashland.news

Since photography became more or less reliable in the 19th century, photojournalists have been drawn to wars. Indeed, a picture is worth a thousand words, and some of the most enduring records of combat have been seen rather than read.

A variety of motives prompt photographers to put themselves in danger to capture the images that often take our breath away. But whether it was the murderous Battle of Antietam during the Civil War or the grinding 21st-century war in Afghanistan, many times the photographers came because war is, by its nature, explosive, kinetic and blustering. It is frequently the biggest game in town, and some photojournalists honest enough to admit their motives state that they are in the thick of things because they do not believe “war is hell.” As two-time Pulitzer Prize-winner Horst Fass of the Associated Press once commented after years of covering combat in Vietnam: “What I like is ‘boom-boom’ — Oh, yes.”

Of course, war is also the most destructive and hateful pursuit that humans inflict upon one another. Yet, for most Americans, combat is something that takes place in another nation on another continent far away, and their awareness of the death, heartache, and destruction wrought during war is based on the packaged product called The News consumed online or on television. Photojournalists who capture the agony often do so with actions and equipment that is inherently intrusive, voyeuristic and blunt. Photographing a sobbing mother keening over the body of her dead child killed in an airstrike could lead to an image that will help people emotionally understand the toll that war takes — yet how does the photographer not only take the photo, but remain a decent human?

One person who found an answer is Christopher Briscoe. The Ashland photographer’s work spans the gamut from freelancing in his youth for The Oregonian to portrait photography of celebrities, national politicians and captains of industry. His work has appeared in The Times of London, USA Today, People Magazine and Paris Match.

Then, Vladimir Putin launched his war of conquest against Ukraine on Feb. 24, 2022. Briscoe travelled to Poland in March 2022 to photograph medical personnel aiding refugees on the border during a 10-day humanitarian mission. When the doctors went home, he crossed the border into Ukraine, spending time in the cities of Lviv and Kyiv and near battlefields in the eastern part of the nation, among other places.

Since he returned to the United States from Ukraine last year, Briscoe has taken stock of his 95-day journey interviewing and photographing the people and events in the beleaguered nation. He summed up his experiences by writing a book called “The Child on the Train: And Other Stories In War-Torn Ukraine,” a collection of his photos and essays now available digitally and in a 10- by 8-inch printed volume.

What makes his photography so powerful is its intimacy and its rawness. Briscoe used mirrorless digital cameras and his iPhone to quietly and carefully capture pictures that are emotionally powerful and relatable. But he also worked hard to establish a relationship with the people he photographed, showing genuine concern for their plight and learning as much as he could about their life before the war, their regard for Ukraine, and the reasons why they help or fight. So, the reader sees the foreign volunteers who cook food for refugees, fighting the horrors of war with ladles and kitchen knives. There are photos of ordinary Ukrainians making Molotov cocktails that speak loudly of their bravery and resilience in the face of an overwhelming enemy — the delivery system for that expedient weapon is someone brave enough to run up close to a tank and throw the damn thing. And there is the eponymic child on the train in the cover photo and in the book title, peeking out from behind a blackout curtain and heading west to an unknown fate — a reminder that the “boom-boom” also makes its most vulnerable victims flee everything that was once safe.

The result is not only a splendid portfolio of photography, but also essays that concisely tell stories that complement Briscoe’s pictures. Perhaps his most poignant writing is the description of a funeral for three Ukrainian soldiers that he encountered in a Lviv church.

“A young woman with wispy hair and oversized rimless glasses slipping down her tear-streaked nose stands with her mother and brother,” he wrote. “They take turns gently touching the raised cherrywood casket … I am close enough to smell her grief.” Briscoe eventually met the woman, whose name is Olha, and her family — and dedicated the book to the memory of Taras Hnatyshyn (one of the dead soldiers), his daughter Olha, son Oleksandr, and wife Lyudmila. “Being with your family on the saddest day of your life will always be a part of my soul,” Briscoe wrote.

As the war in Ukraine continues, the need to understand the toll of the war (as well as what is at stake) will only grow. Briscoe is a dedicated reporter who knows he must get the shot, but he also knows that his fellow human beings are on the other side of his lens. The results are photos and words that have the soul of the photographer present as well as the soul of the people depicted. “The Child on the Train” is a powerful introduction to both the war in Ukraine and a journalist compelled to go there, photographed and written by a person dedicated to capturing the dignity of people caught up in a conflict that is grand in scale but just as bloody and heartbreaking as wars have always been — and will ever be.

Paul R. Huard was a reporter who covered government and the military for Gannett newspapers. His freelance work included assignments in Estonia and Spain. During the summer of 2022, he volunteered as a humanitarian relief worker in Przemysl, Poland, where he assisted Ukrainian refugees. He lives in Ashland. Email Huard at paulrhuard@gmail.com.