Odessa: Russian-speaking, yes. But today, very Ukrainian.

With quiet determination, in a hidden workshop in the strategic southern Ukrainian city of Odessa, Yevhen dons a welder’s helmet and lays a bead of molten metal to join lengths of construction girders.

He is building anti-tank barriers to help stop a Russian assault that could come at any moment against this cosmopolitan hub, renowned for its classical architecture and often deemed among the most “pro-Russian” cities in Ukraine.

In normal times, the 28-year-old welder and guitarist, with a hipster beard and indie band, would be thinking about his next live gig.

But as the multipronged Russian invasion moves ever closer to this Black Sea port, Yevhen is an example of how the brutality of Moscow’s war has changed minds here, and forged what residents describe as unprecedented, pro-Ukrainian unity.

Yevhen knows, because the native Russian speaker says his own views have changed, from being “neutral” on Russia to being ardently pro-Ukrainian. President Volodymyr Zelenskyy warned Sunday that captured Russian military plans led him to expect Odessa to be bombed.

Russian President Vladimir Putin claims that among his reasons for invading Ukraine is to “liberate” Russian speakers from “genocide” at the hands of Ukrainian-speaking “Nazis” – a claim widely scorned in this city, despite the preponderance of native Russian speakers.

“I am now pro-Ukrainian; I am afraid my country could be gone,” says Yevhen, during a pause in welding the tank barriers. He asked that he be referred to only by his first name, and requested it be spelled the Ukrainian way, not the typical Russian version, “Yevgeny.”

“Of course we will have victory, because we are together. People are the main power and support behind the army,” says Yevhen. “Ukrainians are the most united I have seen in my lifetime. Putin achieved this.”

Across Ukraine Monday, the 12th day of conflict, the fighting is raging. Russian artillery and airstrikes are leaving a semicircular arc of devastation from northwest of the capital, Kyiv, east and south along the borders of the Russian separatist regions of the Donbass, and then back west along the southern coast, from the Crimean Peninsula – seized by Russia and annexed in 2014 – toward Odessa.

The United Nations reported that 1.5 million Ukrainians had left the country by Sunday, in the largest and swiftest cross-border exodus in Europe since World War II.

But Russian forces have faced unexpectedly strong resistance, seen their advancing columns stalled or destroyed, watched as aircraft and helicopters have been downed, and witnessed unarmed Ukrainian civilians confronting them head-on.

From fear to anger to resolve

That is no surprise in Odessa, where residents of this ancient city are doing all they can to prepare for an imminent onslaught – from organizing humanitarian aid and filling sandbags, to volunteering for military training and weaving camouflage nets.

Many say they have surprised themselves by the level of community and shared purpose they have created, under the threat of the Russian advance.

“The first day, we were afraid. The next day we were angry, because our lives were broken by this one crazy man,” Mr. Putin, says Inga Kordynovska, a lawyer who, with a few friends, started the Humanitarian Volunteer Center in a hip food court in central Odessa.

“But on the third day, we said, ‘We will do something.’”

At the food court, posters on the walls still advertise the Oysters and Jazz Fest that was scheduled to last until Tuesday. But today, amid now-closed restaurants and under the gaze of a suspended decorative red dragon, some 90 volunteers are managing an ever-growing pile of donations – from bananas, bottled water, and medicine, to clothes, shoes, and toiletries – which are being sent to needy people and to civilian territorial defense units.

“When you are home, you think, ‘I am alone; we will lose.’ But when you come here, people think, ‘We can win. We are together,’” says Ms. Kordynovska, of the psychological dynamic at the center. It hums with constant activity and the steady arrival of donations.

“We give a new hope. We’re here. We’re alive. Spring is coming, and ... we have a new plan: Fight with Russia. Now we are brave; we are ready,” she says. “We understand that any day a bomb can fall here; it’s dangerous. That’s why these people are heroes.”

That sense of pro-Ukraine purpose has grown across the board, including among Russian speakers, says Ms. Kordynovska, whose own family has a bilingual heritage.

“Now I don’t know anybody who says, ‘We want to be Russian.’ They want to be alive, to be free people,” she says. “We see what Putin did with Crimea, and with Donbass; we see that people don’t have a good life. Young people hate Russia, and have no ambition to be with Russia.”

Impact of the uprising

Home today to more than 1 million people, Odessa began as an ancient Greek settlement and was founded in 1794 by Catherine the Great. It has been a strategic hub for centuries, for imperial Russia and later the Soviet Union.

Its multiethnic makeup did not spare it from Ukraine’s divisions over closer ties to Europe or to Russia, which erupted in November 2013.

Protesters in Kyiv demanded that the government of President Viktor Yanukovych reverse a decision – made under Russian pressure – not to join a pact with the European Union. Parliament had endorsed the pact.

In short order, Mr. Yanukovych was then toppled by the Maidan uprising in early 2014, and Russia annexed Crimea and supported pro-Russian separatists in the Donbass.

Those divisions also flared in Odessa in May 2014, when some 46 pro-Russian activists and two pro-Maidan activists were killed during a pitched battle and a fire at the Trade Unions House. Russian officials frequently refer to the event as an example of why Ukrainian Russian speakers must be “saved.”

But if the number of Russian speakers here might have led the Kremlin to believe this city would support its current offensive, residents say, the sheer scale of the violence has ended that possibility – if it ever existed.

“We have seen peaceful people die. Our administration buildings have been bombed,” says Zhenya Mayor, a multilingual silk-screen artist who volunteers at the food market. “How can you be pro-Russian if your country is being bombed and destroyed?”

She says that, before the Russian invasion, her family was “a bit” pro-Russian – and still loves Russian culture – but they “now feel support for Ukraine because we are in hell.”

Contrast with Russia

Videos from Russia helped inform her family, says Ms. Mayor.

“They are afraid of the truth,” she says, of tight-lipped Russians she has seen interviewed on TV in Russia.

“It’s a police state,” she adds. “They say, ‘We are with Putin, no comment,’ as in, ‘Putin my prince, my king, my czar.’ ... They are zombies.”

That is in stark contrast to Ukraine, Ms. Mayor says: “I feel proud to be Ukrainian. I feel the freedom that I can speak out. All day, I just believe in victory.”

That spirit is evident also at the Odessa Yacht Club, where scores of volunteers – men and women, and even children – dig up the beach and fill sandbags to protect municipal buildings and landmarks, forming human chains to load trucks. They had made more than 200,000 sandbags by the weekend.

“This is one face of the city. People are united,” Albert Kabakov, a professional sail racer and head of the yacht club, says of the volunteers. “I am sure, after the victory, our society will be completely different. We will have changes.”

Among them will be a deeper divergence from a Russian mentality, he says.

“All of us here are Ukrainians, will speak Ukrainian, and definitely this will enhance our Ukrainian identity,” says Mr. Kabakov. “It became a shame for us to speak Russian. A lot of people are moving to speak Ukrainian.”

A few hundred yards down the beach, a smaller group of 20 or so fills sandbags in front of a line of boarded-up restaurants that in summer are frequented by tourists – including many Russians.

“Odessa was always known for its freedom,” says Olga, an interpreter who wears designer black leather gloves and makeup, as she ties up sandbags in the winter wind. “We never voted for war. ... But considering that enemies came to us, we will fight, and we will definitely win, because Odessa citizens are well known for being able to stand for themselves.”

And it is “not true” that Odessa is pro-Russian, she says.

“Native Odessans have a good phrase,” says Olga, who asked that only her first name be used. “Putin was thinking that, considering Odessa is speaking Russian, they want the Russian world. But this is not the fact. Odessa citizens just love to talk.”

... and a jar of pickles

Defiance is evident also in a small apartment packed with women and some men weaving camouflage netting from strips of cloth and fishing nets. It is one of nine such centers in Odessa, this one with 100 volunteers each day producing 200 square meters of netting.

“Everyone knows this is our most dangerous moment,” says Svetlana Meshkova, an English teacher who wears a lapel pin earned from previous volunteer work.

“Our people are very different from Russians. We ... want to be a free country,” says Ms. Meshkova, who cuts the nets to size in the cramped space. “Even for me, this is impressive,” she says, of the overflow of volunteers.

“Here we don’t let in any idea of surrender. Ukrainians don’t surrender,” says Ms. Meshkova. “Not everyone supported us. But today, after all these years, people can see the truth about Russia, and what our country is. No one wants to be citizens of Russia. We have changed, and are a lot stronger.”

Laughter and cheers erupt among those weaving the nets, when a woman reads out a news report – true or not, it is not clear – of a Ukrainian woman who downed a Russian drone in Kyiv by throwing a jar of pickles at it.

“I told you!” exclaims Ms. Meshkova. “Ukrainians are the best. They never give up.”