For loved ones ripped apart by war in Ukraine phone messages bring hope and despair

In the midst of a days-long, chaotic cross-country train ride to the northwestern city of Lviv, near Ukraine's border with Poland, a terrible realization dawned on Marina.

The 54-year-old carer, who managed to evacuate an orphanage in a besieged industrial town in the eastern Luhansk province, had no way to return to her own family.

Marina, who did not give her surname, was still reeling from the journey — days spent desperately trying to calm the panic-stricken children in her care against the backdrop of booms and thuds of Russia's brutal assault, while still fearing for her family at home.

Is not disclosing Marina's full name because of the risks to her family who have not been evacuated.

Families separated: The fracturing of families underpins many of the stories of displacement in Ukraine, with millions of people trapped in besieged cities with virtually no way out.

Several people spoke to in recent days said they have been unable to contact their loved ones since the start of the invasion. They described frenzied escapes from the country's worst-affected cities, in which parents, spouses, siblings and grandparents were left behind.

With the Russian assault knocking out power and telephone networks, whole cities have been cut off from the outside world. Many say they don't know if their loved ones are still alive.