Some of the people who have made it out of Mariupol described their experiences on the city website, here. I was struck by one woman’s description of living in basement/bomb shelter. (Translation via Google, with a little light editing for clarity.)
“I still can’t understand how people can worry about such nonsense, like having an old phone or not enough salary. Not a single hryvnia was useful to me in our basement. And the phone died the day after the lights went out. My little nephews slept dressed. Not only because it was hellishly cold, but also because if a bomb falls while we are sleeping and we survive, it is better to get out from under the rubble in shoes and jackets.
“You know, after ten days of constant shelling, I began to feel it beginning. I had a disgusting emptiness in my chest and not enough air. I was lying on two chairs, in a compartment with gray, icy walls. Above me and below me were the pipes, next to the boards and mattresses were my family with white-haired little nephews, my friend’s family, and Angie’s dog, whom we dragged and pulled out of the basement by force. She categorically did not want to walk in the yard covered with ashes and glass, not a minute.
“Walking a dog was hell. Because they bombed incessantly. I opened the front door a little, pushed the dog out, and watched frightened as she first ran down the steps, trying to find a place among the fragments on the scorched earth, then her ears flattened, and a nearby mine disgustingly squeaked and exploded, and she ran back. We waited a minute and started anew. I stood in the doorway and cried. I was very scared. Angie was also very scared, but she didn’t cry; she looked at me from below with brown eyes. She could not understand what was happening.
“Our basement consisted of many compartments. Many had people. In one, even very tiny children. Next to us was a family – an adult son and his elderly mother. They were very calm and reserved, treated our children to sweets and cookies, gave us butter and lard because they were going to leave. Our children were so scared that they ate almost nothing. But the candies and cookies were swallowed right away. It was a real treasure and a little joy in the gloomy dungeon buzzing with explosions. They even had fun.
“Seven-year-old Varya asked me to tell about Peppa Pig for the first time since the beginning of the war, and she even believed me when I promised to buy her any doll as soon as we came out of the basement. Malyavka only clarified: ‘The shops were all robbed, how can you buy?’ I replied that no toy store was touched and all the dolls were in place.
“I looked at her round face, tangled hair, small nose, scarf-wrapped neck, and thought, ‘Suddenly I’m lying to her?’ I kissed her cheeks and dirty palms, and my heart ached. I wasn’t sure we would survive tonight. Varyusha (Varya) demanded and clarified: ‘Really, you will buy it? When?’
“Her brother Kirill hardly spoke to us. He was very scared when we were in a different basement in a private house and there was a direct hit on the roof. The roof caught fire and everyone had to leave. We ran to the garage under terrible fire. Everything around howled and exploded, and Kiryukha (Kirill) shouted, covering the mines: ‘Mommy, please, mommy! I want to live! I don’t want to die!’
“Please, all who can tell about Mariupol to the whole world. Mariupol residents are being killed. Hundreds of children were in the basements with my nephews. Many are still sitting there. They want to live. They are very scared.”
The other survivor stories in the article are worth a read as well. (Try this link for an automatic translation of the article page. If it doesn’t work, you can always copy and paste text to Google Translate.)