I was in a meeting in The New York Times’s newsroom in Midtown Manhattan when a blaring siren went off on my cellphone. Those around me looked on quizzically as alerts started appearing across my screen.

“Drone threat. Take shelter immediately.”

“Air raid alert. Go to shelter!”

And then, moments later: “All clear. Be careful.”

My thoughts immediately went to members of The Times’s staff in Kyiv, Ukraine’s capital. The messages were meant for them, not me.

I recently made a weeklong visit to Ukraine to visit our Kyiv bureau and, as an act of solidarity with my colleagues, I have not yet removed from my phone the air alert app that is widely used to warn civilians of incoming Russian military activity.

I endured the alarming messages for five days in Kyiv, hustling to a bomb shelter on one occasion and sleepwalking to the bathroom of my hotel during another barrage. My colleagues, led by Andrew Kramer, our Kyiv bureau chief, have been living through these alerts for years.

At first glance, Kyiv is a bustling city worthy of a visit. Its restaurant scene is healthy. Its architecture inspires awe. But look a little deeper and you’ll see a city very much at war.

There are damaged buildings, and a firm midnight curfew. Then there’s the sprawling war memorial in the city center, which features flags identifying fallen soldiers by their particular Ukrainian military units or by the nationalities of those who came to Ukraine from overseas to fight Russia.

Amputees make their way along Kyiv’s sidewalks. As The Times wrote in September, Ukrainian Fashion Week, which was suspended in 2022 in the wake of Russia’s full-scale invasion, featured models who had lost limbs in the conflict.

At virtually every cash register, there is a tip jar, although the proceeds are intended not for workers, but for the soldiers dug into trenches on the front.

During my visit, which was aimed at seeing the conflict up close and checking in on our Kyiv team, I went nowhere near the front lines. But I did get a sense of how this war, which is well into its third year, is deeply etched into the psyche of the country.

There was the top military adviser who teared up when recounting what happened to his unit during the awful trench warfare in Bakhmut.

There was the soldier who lost an arm and a leg in the fighting and yet was optimistic about his future because of the cutting-edge artificial limb he was being fitted for.

There was the diplomat who railed at The Times, although not for our fearless war reporting but for a recipe Times Cooking had featured for Russian Honey Cake, which he insisted was of Ukrainian origins.

During a visit to a military recruitment center, I operated a remote vehicle used to evacuate wounded soldiers from the battlefield. And not far away, I saw a cavernous warehouse where soldiers learned to navigate airborne drones, which have truly changed this war, and perhaps all future wars, into battles between soldiers armed with joysticks.