Their mission is simple - to save the lives of those residents who still live in the city, but first we had to take cover behind a wall.
The General Staff of Ukraine's Armed Forces has warned that the Russians are now preparing an "aggressive" assault on the towns and cities of eastern Ukraine.
However, the war has already arrived in Severodonetsk.
After five weeks of fighting, this Ukrainian city of more than 100,000 people has become a shadow of its former self with bombed out buildings and the general disappearance of people on the streets.
When we met the police unit who work the area that adjoins the front line, we soon found ourselves running for cover as gunfire was sprayed at a residential building one hundred metres from where we were standing.
Their mission is simple - to save the lives of those residents who still live in the city, but first we had to take cover behind a wall.
With the all-clear given I asked the unit leader, Anton Borokov, how many people lived in the district.
"It is really difficult to count how many, some never leave the shelters, they stay in there 24 hours a day. As you’ve seen, the shelling is constant so it is impossible to count them - could be a 1,000, maybe more, but hard to answer," he said.
The officers thought there were city residents hiding in local schools and we entered the ruins of a badly damaged facility.
We found a group, both cold and hungry, huddled around a fire just outside the shattered auditorium.
On seeing the officers, a few bolted for the steps leading to an underground shelter, a look of terror written on their faces.
Inspector Karyna Tkanchenko shouted: "Come with us, they will give you everything, a place to live, there will be food, everything is free, are you coming?"
An elderly couple were the only two to take up the offer.
Amid the sound of shelling, we hurried to the police van and I asked them: "How long have you been living there?"
"One month and seven days," replied the man.
"What have the conditions been like?" I asked.
"It's impossible, my wife kept passing out. Maybe I can take it but it’s impossible for my wife. We have to go somewhere (better)," he said.
I asked Inspector Tkanchenko why they do not tell people to get out - even force them to leave such a dangerous environment.
Her response was crisp and forthright.
"Because I live in a free country and it's called Ukraine. Here everybody makes their own decisions. We can only advise, inform, help in some ways, help to evacuate, help them physically and mentally, but to force people? We can't do that, and we won't do that.
"We can strongly recommend it but I don't regret the fact that we take time to explain," she said.
We drove to the next building, a bombed-out hulk close to the front line and Officer Borokov opened a cellar door.
"There's people here. Good morning, police here," he said.
He peered down into a dank, overcrowded shelter and told the group below that he had come to evacuate them to Lviv in western Ukraine.
No one wanted to come.
"We've got people here with bad backs and bad legs," said one man.
"We'll get you treatment," said Borokov.
"No thank you," he replied.
People are scared and some distrust the police. Several told us that they are penniless and fear being left destitute in another, unfamiliar place
I put their concerns to Inspector Tkanchenko.
"Well, thank God we are not facing this problem on our own. When we started (five weeks ago) we were working on our own. Then, other volunteer organisations got involved and now it is easier.
"Those who say they have no money, well you don't need money, we'll get them the help you need," she said.
There was one more task for the district police at the end of a difficult day.
There was a small group of orphans to take care of.
Their carers had made arrangements to send them to the city of Dnipro, 400km to the west
After a month of bombing and shelling, the children looked apprehensive but Officer Borokov and his team put them at ease, driving them to their police station and overseeing their onward travel.
"Is this what you would call a typical day?" I asked him.
"For the last month, yes, every day we are trying to evacuate people," he replied.
"What is going to happen here, do you think?" I asked.
"It is hard to predict, but I believe that everything will be ok. The day will come when everything will be over, the war will finish," he said, before a colleague with an urgent query dragged him away.
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