As they shared jokes and a pizza, artillery explosions could be heard a few kilometers away _ a reminder of the looming battle that threatens to unfold here in the city of Slovyansk, which was occupied by Russian proxy fighters in 2014.
``Everyone knows that there will be a huge battle in Slovyansk,'' said one of the soldiers, who could not be named for security reasons.
Now, eight years after their city was last occupied, the war has returned. Slovyansk could become the next major target in Russia's campaign to take the Donbas region, Ukraine's predominantly Russian-speaking industrial heartland, if Moscow captures Lysychansk _ the last remaining Ukrainian stronghold in Luhansk province, 70 kilometers (43 miles) to the east.
Another soldier, a 23-year-old accountant who joined up when the invasion began, said Ukrainian forces simply do not have the weapons to fight off the superior arsenal of the approaching Russian army.
``We know what's coming'' he said with a sad smile.
These soldiers were still teenagers when pro-Russian separatists captured and held the town for three months. The brief occupation in 2014 terrorized Slovyansk, where dozens of officials and journalists were taken hostage, and several killings took place.
Fierce fighting and shelling broke out when the Ukrainian army laid siege to the city to recapture it.
``Actually, the war never left Slovyansk. It didn't leave people's heads'' said Tetiana Khimion, a 43-year-old dance choreographer who converted a fishing store into a hub for local military units.
``On the one hand, it is easier for us because we know what it's like. On the other hand, it is more difficult for us since we've been living like this for eight years in a suspended condition.''
Slovyansk is a city of splintered loyalties. With a large retired population, it is not uncommon to hear older residents express sympathy towards Russia or nostalgia for their Soviet past. There is also distrust of the Ukrainian army and government.
After a recent shelling of his apartment block, one resident named Sergei said he believed that the strike was launched by Ukraine.
``I'm not pro-Russian, I'm not pro-Ukrainian. I am somewhere in between'' he said. ``Both Russians and Ukrainians kill civilians _ everyone should understand that.''
On Thursday, a group of elderly residents couldn't hide their frustration after a bomb blast slashed open their roofs and shattered their windows.
Ukraine ``says they are protecting us, but what kind of protection is this?'' asked one man, who did not provide his name.
``They kneel to that Biden _ may he die!'' exclaimed his neighbor, Tatyana, referring to U.S. President Joe Biden.
After 2014, Khimion said, it became easier to know ``who is who'' in Slovyansk. ``Now you can easily see: These people are for Ukraine, and these people are for Russia.``
She said not enough was done after 2014 to punish people who collaborated with Russian proxies to prevent a repeat of the situation.
``That is why we cannot negotiate, we need to win. Otherwise it will be a never-ending process. It will keep repeating'' she said.
The mayor of Slovyansk, Vadim Lyakh, reflects the city's new trajectory. Taking his cues from Ukraine's wartime leader, President Volodymyr Zelensky, the mayor has decorated his office with Ukrainian flags, anti-Russian symbols, portraits of national poets _ even a biography of Winston Churchill.
But before 2014, he was part of a political party that sought closer ties with Russia. Lyakh said that while pro-Moscow sentiment in the city has faded in past years _ in part because of the horrors witnessed in 2014 _ there are still ``people who are waiting for the return of the Russian troops.''
As the front line creeps ever closer, attacks on the city intensify. Three-quarters of Slovyansk's pre-war population has fled, but the mayor said there are still too many people here, including many children. He encourages them to evacuate. He spends his days coordinating humanitarian aid and strengthening the city's defenses.
More and more, he is among the first responders at the scene of bombardments. The Associated Press followed Lyakh and recently witnessed what authorities described as a cluster bomb attack on a residential area. One person was killed and several others wounded.
The mayor says that shelling now occurs at least four or five times a day, and the use of cluster munitions has increased in the last week. Although he remains optimistic that Ukrainian forces can keep the enemy at bay, he is also clear-sighted about his options.
``Nobody wants to be captured. When there is an imminent danger of the enemy troops entering the city, I will have to go'' he said.
Lyakh said he cannot allow himself to relax, even for a few minutes.
``It is emotionally difficult. You see how people are dying and being harmed. But nevertheless, I understand that this is my job and that nobody but myself and the people around me can do`` it.
One morning last week, Lyakh paid a visit to an apartment block that had been shelled overnight. Most of the windows in the building were blown out, doors were broken wide open and a power line severed.
The same building was bombed in 2014, when the shell left a gaping hole on the sixth floor, and many residents suffered broken bones.
Andrey, a 37-year-old factory worker who has lived in the building for 20 years, recalls the bombing and occupation. He said separatist forces ``did and took what they liked.''
People in his circle have different opinions about Russia.
``Those who have suffered understand what this `Russia world' means: It means broken houses, stolen cars and violence'' he explains. ``There are those who miss the Soviet Union, who think we are all one people, and they do not accept what they see with their own eyes.''
In the eight years since the separatists retreated, he said, life has markedly improved in Slovyansk.
The statue of Vladimir Lenin that once stood in the central square has been removed. Water and power supplies were renovated. New parks, squares and medical facilities were built.
``Civilization was returned to us'' Andrey said.
At the military distribution hub, the young soldiers talk wistfully about their lives before the invasion.
``I had a great car, a good job. I was able to travel abroad three times a year,'' said the former accountant, who plans to stay in Slovyansk with the others to defend the city. ``How can we let someone just come and take our lives away from us?''
Khimion's husband is on the front lines, and she put her teenage daughter on a train to Switzerland as soon as the invasion began.
``I have been deprived of everything _ a home, husband, child _ what should I do now?'' she asks. ``We are doing everything we can to stop (the offensive), to keep it to a minimum ... But to be afraid is to abandon this place.''
At the entrance to the city, a monument bearing Slovyansk's name is riddled with bullet holes from 2014. It has been painted over several times. It now bears the national colors of Ukraine, and a local artist has painted red flowers around each perforation.
Residents of Slovyansk wonder _ some with hope, many in fear _ if the sign will soon be painted yet again, in the red, white and blue of the Russia flag.