Inside Ukraine’s drone wall holding off Russia’s meatgrinder assaults

Past midnight, in near-total darkness, Andrii, callsign “Drunya,” a driver from the Unmanned Systems Battalion of Ukraine’s 110th Separate Mechanized Brigade, prepares for a resupply run to a drone unit on the front just after midnight. He loads a pickup truck with first-person-view (FPV) drones and explosives. The vehicle is fitted with a jammer to guard against incoming enemy FPV strikes.

Once the truck is ready, the dash to the front begins. Along the roads leading to the frontline, trucks, civilian vehicles and heavy armor crawl forward under makeshift cages and welded plating – protection against the ever-present drone threat. It’s a scene that looks torn from “Mad Max,” but it’s also a stark reflection of how today’s small, cheap drones have reshaped modern warfare.

With me is Ryan Van Ert, a filmmaker from Los Angeles. We met on a previous trip to Ukraine, and he decided to join this mission. Last year, I spent nearly a week embedded with a drone unit in Chasiv Yar, getting as close as 1.5 kilometers to Russian lines. But in the past year, the kill zone has expanded greatly; now, anything within 10-15 kilometers of the front is fair game for enemy drones.

Before setting out, Andrii warns us: If the truck stops for any reason, don’t bother grabbing anything – just run for cover under the nearest treeline. Wearing body armor and helmets, we speed down pitted country roads. In the passenger seat, a soldier keeps his rifle ready, prepared to shoot down an enemy FPV if one dives toward us. Fiber-optic drones lying in wait along the roadside have become a deadly hazard for both sides.

Andrii cues up music on the Bluetooth speaker, each song somehow amplifying the tension in the air. I stare out the window, imagining Russian drones circling above, watching us from the darkness. As we near the front, Andrii switches off the headlights, slips on his night-vision goggles, and drives the rest of the way in pitch black.

Bohdan, a drone pilot from the Unmanned Systems Battalion of Ukraine’s 110th Separate Mechanized Brigade, pilots an FPV drone in Donetsk Oblast during active battle operations. Photo: David Kirichenko

I can’t shake the worry that his speed on these cratered roads might damage the truck, forcing us to abandon it in a place where standing still is dangerous. Then another thought cuts in: Here I am, alongside Ryan, two freelancers on the front, far from any newsroom safety net. If something happens, we’re on our own. We aren’t soldiers, but we came here by choice, and that means accepting the brutal truth: Here, death is not an abstract, but a very real possibility for us. Real skin in the game, as they say, in my attempt to tell Ukraine’s story from the front.

Shortly before the mission, I’ve overheard Ryan on the phone, telling someone where he was going, just in case something happened to him. Following suit, I’ve texted a friend that if they should fail to hear from me in a few days, this was where I had gone and with which unit, so they would know where to start looking.

When we reach the frontline dugout, we’re met by Bohdan, callsign “Bandera,” a drone pilot. The soldiers quickly unload the supplies before starting the return trip. Not long after, Bohdan hears over the radio that Andrii has ambushed by a Russian drone, which has narrowly missed his truck. A close call, but he has escaped unharmed.

Bohdan takes a smoke break after several hours of piloting FPV drones. Photo: David Kirichenko

By early morning, Bohdan warns us to brace for the daily assaults, which usually open with a barrage of glide bomb strikes. In this part of Donetsk Oblast, near the border with Dnipropetrovsk, the fighting has been relentless in recent days.

For hours with almost no pause, Bohdan flies FPV bomber drones, trying to blunt the constant Russian advances. First, enemy infantry creep across open fields and through treelines toward a nearby village. Then Bohdan’s drones hunt them, working in tandem with artillery to flush them out. 

“Artillery can hit sectors, but it can’t chase someone into a basement,” said Andrii, callsign “Price,” who oversees the flight mission and assists Bohdan with targeting.

Serhii “Gray” handles the explosives on the FPV drones. Photo: David Kirichenko

As their assault intensifies, the Russians begin sending in motorcycle units. Serhii, callsign “Gray,” handles the explosives, sprinting back and forth to arm the drone’s trigger before Bohdan launches. On the video screens, motorbikes tear across the fields, kicking up plumes of dust. I translate the rapid Ukrainian chatter for Ryan; he later tells me it’s the first time he’s felt “true fear.”

Part of me wonders whether I should translate all the dangerous updates the soldiers are sharing. Only days earlier, a Russian assault has broken through, forcing Ukrainian drone pilots to drop their controllers, grab rifles and fight off enemy soldiers. I tell Ryan this, warning him that there’s a chance we might have to do the same if another breakthrough happens – that we could be fighting for our lives with rifles instead of cameras.

Ryan Van Ert prepares for a Russian assault on the position. Photo: David Kirichenko

On one feed, a Russian motorcyclist darts through a village, weaving between farm fields and treelines. Andrii fires off sharp commands – “Left, left … climb … higher!” – trying to keep the target locked in. The terrain, the bike’s speed, and a glitchy video stream make the pursuit difficult, but eventually they find their shot. A sudden blast flares across the screen. “Yes. Big explosion,” another operator confirms from the command center, watching the Mavic drone streams while still scanning for any sign of movement.

Andrii “Price” helps provide support for an FPV bombing mission. Photo: David Kirichenko

Commenting on the Mad Max–style armor now common on the front, Bohdan says, “If a tank is spotted with cages and a jammer, it takes at least double or triple the usual number – six to eight drones – to disable it. We used to laugh at their cages, but now we use them too.”

The soldiers explain that after the battle for Avdiivka in 2024 – when US aid was halted and Ukraine was forced to rely on its own resources – the military rapidly scaled up its use of drones across the battlefield. “If Ukraine had more artillery back then, it wouldn’t have needed to rely as much on drones,” says Bohdan.

For now, the Ukrainian infantry huddled on the front are few in number and rarely engage the Russian troops they track. Instead, they primarily act as spotters for other Ukrainian units, only fighting house to house when Russian forces push into their positions.

Andrii, a soldier from the Unmanned Systems Battalion of Ukraine’s 110th Separate Mechanized Brigade. Photo: David Kirichenko

Andrii notes that the Russians hold a clear advantage in manpower. They send in daily waves of soldiers on suicidal missions. Most are killed but over time the relentless assaults can overwhelm Ukrainian positions. Life is cheap on the Russian side – but for Ukrainians preserving every life must be a priority.

For now, Ukraine’s “drone wall” continues to hold the line against Russia. It’s a layered defense of unmanned systems that the Kremlin has been trying to breach for years. Units behind this wall, such as the Unmanned Systems Battalion of Ukraine’s 110th Separate Mechanized Brigade, make up just 2% of Kyiv’s personnel yet account for one-third of enemy casualties.

But with the so-called Axis of Evil arming the Kremlin, and what feels like an endless conveyor belt of Russians willing to die for a paycheck, the war grinds on. I’m not the only one who fears that, if Russia is not stopped here, the meatgrinder tactics and Mad Max-style armored hulks now crawling across Ukraine’s front could one day choke the roads and fields of Europe’s eastern flank.