On a frigid night in eastern Ukraine’s Donetsk region, the rudimentary yet effective netting designed to deflect explosive drone attacks shimmered under the headlights of an armored vehicle. Traveling through what felt like surreal, protected corridors to access the front lines offered a stark glimpse into the intense fighting. These nets, stretching for miles and suspended on high poles lining and covering the road, serve as a crucial physical barrier. They snag drone propellers, significantly diminishing their destructive potential even if detonated remotely. This ingenious defense allows civilian vehicles, buses, and military transports to navigate routes that would otherwise be exceptionally perilous.
Much of this vital netting originates from European fishermen, with recent donations of hundreds of tons of recycled salmon nets announced by the Scottish government. Before deployment, the Ukrainian military rigorously tests its efficacy by crashing drones into it, ensuring its strength and reliability.
The acronym FPV, signifying “first-person view,” now strikes fear across the battlefield. These highly effective drones, utilized by both Ukrainian and Russian forces, are devastating killers. Equipped with cameras that transmit real-time video to controllers located up to 40 kilometers away, they operate from hidden command centers. These bases, often found in the basements of destroyed buildings or unassuming village homes, are filled with banks of screens. The footage is meticulously analyzed by Ukraine’s advanced software, identifying enemy positions through the movements of small figures within the ruins.
Controllers, communicating via walkie-talkies and headsets, guide ground troops into buildings identified by drone surveillance, leading to successful engagements. While early FPV drones relied on radio signals, electronic warfare expertise from both sides quickly rendered these vulnerable. The current generation predominantly employs fiber optic cables, so thin that a 25-kilometer spool, containing data and video, fits within a container the size of a large bleach bottle.
Eastern Ukraine’s battlegrounds, once reminiscent of World War I’s Western Front with its trenches and dugouts, have been fundamentally transformed by drone technology. The full-scale invasion, initially feeling like a 20th-century conflict, has evolved into a new era of warfare, prompting global armies to re-evaluate their combat strategies. The once defined front lines have dissolved into a broad “kill zone,” extending perhaps 20 kilometers on either side of the forward positions. Even rear areas, previously designated for logistics and casualty care, are now as exposed as the old front lines.
The skies are saturated with surveillance drones, making any movement fraught with danger. Social media teems with harrowing videos captured from FPV drones as they zero in on targets, relentlessly pursuing individuals in open fields or even navigating the interiors of buildings. The final moments often depict the chilling realization of impending doom.
Despite the continued formidable presence of artillery and tanks, a drone costing approximately a thousand dollars, when expertly piloted, can neutralize a tank valued at $30 million. Reports from The Wall Street Journal highlighted a small group of Ukrainian drone pilots who significantly disrupted a NATO exercise in Estonia. This development underscores a critical need for NATO to enhance its capabilities. The past four years have solidified Ukraine and Russia as the world’s foremost experts in drone warfare.
Both nations are in a constant race to innovate and gain an edge in this burgeoning field. The Starlink satellite internet system, owned by Elon Musk, has been integral to battlefield communications and navigation for both sides. A recent setback for Russia occurred when Musk reportedly restricted the use of Russian-registered Starlink terminals within Ukraine. This may have contributed to Ukraine’s recent territorial gains in the south, supported by a Starlink system funded by Poland.
However, Ukrainian drone units widely anticipate that Russia will soon devise a countermeasure. They acknowledge the formidable skills of elite Russian drone units, identified as “Rubicon” and “Day of Judgement.” A senior Ukrainian officer stressed the need for Western Europeans to differentiate between the vast numbers of Russian soldiers lost on the front lines and the specialized drone units highly valued by Moscow, describing them as “cherished” by the Russian army.
During a recent visit to Ukraine, the omnipresent threat of drones necessitated careful monitoring of weather forecasts before venturing into Donetsk. Operations were postponed on clear days, with a preference for snowy conditions, as drones reportedly struggle in adverse weather.
Feeling somewhat more secure with the protective netting and the presence of snow, the journey continued towards Slovyansk. The town, though bearing the scars of four years of destruction, functions with a limited number of open cafes and shops. However, thousands of residents have relocated to safer areas, and those who remain often hurry through the icy, snow-covered streets, their fear of Russian FPV drones a constant motivator to return home swiftly. Defensive nets are now being erected even in the town center.
Slovyansk is prominently featured on Russian President Vladimir Putin’s list of non-negotiable terms for a ceasefire. His demands include Ukraine ceding approximately 20% of its controlled territory in Donetsk, along with other lands in the southern regions of Zaporizhzhia and Kherson that his forces have struggled to capture. Reports suggest that American pressure has been applied to President Volodymyr Zelensky, urging him to accept a deal for a summer ceasefire. Similarly, former US President Donald Trump has reportedly urged Zelensky to call for elections, a demand not made of Putin. This stance appears to stem from Trump’s desire to claim credit for ending the war, potentially leveraging it for the upcoming US mid-term elections, and benefiting from the lifting of sanctions for substantial business deals with Russia.
The United States has attempted to impose deadlines for an agreement, most recently suggesting a summer ceasefire to align with Trump’s electoral focus. However, the apparent inability of the US to compel either Ukraine or Russia to its will indicates the limits of its influence. Four years after Russia’s full-scale invasion, no concrete evidence suggests an imminent genuine ceasefire.
The Enduring Dangers in Donetsk
President Zelensky conveyed to me that relinquishing territory not yet captured by Russia is an unthinkable proposition. He stated his unwavering commitment to his people, asserting that any such concession would merely delay, not prevent, future Russian aggression, estimating that Russia would rearm and re-equip within two years.
My first encounter in Slovyansk was with Oleh Tkachenko, a robust pastor leading a significant relief operation. He is among the few civilians to venture into the most dangerous zones, delivering bread from his bakery, which produces 17,000 loaves weekly, to outlying villages. Following his deliveries, he often evacuates residents weary of living near the front lines. Oleh’s bakery stands as a beacon of order and warmth amidst the frozen, ruined industrial landscape on Slovyansk’s periphery.
The UN World Food Programme assisted in the bakery’s re-establishment after Oleh was displaced from his occupied hometown. He elaborated on the intensified dangers in Donetsk over recent months, attributing them to the escalating drone warfare. “The situation has radically changed,” he observed. “There are only very dangerous places and relatively dangerous places. Nowhere is safe in the Donetsk region anymore.”
When questioned about Zelensky potentially yielding to Russian and American pressure to cede Donetsk for a ceasefire, Oleh’s response, mirroring that of others in Slovyansk, was impassioned. “What more does Putin want? This is my Donetsk region. I was born here. My children were born here. I created my family here. And I should leave all that? What for?” He argued that Putin should not be allowed to seize and retain territory that is not rightfully Russian.
“We are destroying the values on which this world is built on one person’s whim. Not only will the villain avoid punishment, he [will] also be rewarded? I’m sorry. How many villains like this are there in the world?” he questioned.
At a coffee bar, I met Oleksii Yukov, who leads an organization dedicated to collecting the bodies of fallen soldiers. This effort aims to honor their memory and provide families with definitive identification before a proper burial. While Oleksii expresses no preference between Russian and Ukrainian fallen soldiers, he unequivocally rejects Russian domination in Donetsk. Echoing Oleh’s sentiment, he dismisses any faith in Putin’s promises. “So if a maniac comes to your home and says, “Give me your daughter and I won’t come back,” do you really think that a man like this – who rapes and pillages – is simply going to stop?” he asked rhetorically.
“We all know who the maniacs are, right? It’s horrifying. To give away a part of yourself – or your child – to be torn apart… I don’t understand why this question is even asked of Ukrainians.”
Oleksii has also recovered the remains of soldiers from World War II in the Donbas, the region encompassing Donetsk and Luhansk, the latter of which has fallen entirely to Russia. He draws parallels between Putin’s pledges and those made by Adolf Hitler at the 1938 Munich conference, where Hitler claimed the Sudetenland of Czechoslovakia was his final territorial demand. Britain and France’s acceptance of Hitler’s word ultimately failed to prevent the outbreak of World War II the following year. Like many in this part of Europe, Oleksii perceives historical echoes. “Promises made by Russia are worth nothing – just like Hitler’s promises that once he took the Sudetenland nothing else would happen. We all saw what that led to: the Second World War. Now it could lead to a Third World War if we do not stop and tell Putin that people live here – people who want to live in their own country, on their own land. Each of them has that right. No Ukrainian has the right to say we can give anything away.”
Oleksii contends that compelling Ukraine to surrender Donetsk without resistance would be as profound a betrayal as Czechoslovakia experienced at Munich. Slovyansk, alongside its neighbor Kramatorsk, is designated as a “fortress city.” Both are fortified with extensive anti-tank ditches, razor wire, and concrete obstacles known as “dragon’s teeth.” Situated on a range of hills, they represent the last significant elevated ground before approximately 150 miles of flat terrain, predominantly fields, leading to the Dnieper River, which bisects Ukraine from north to south, offering a natural defensive barrier. Ukrainian strategists argue that halting Russian forces on this flat expanse would prove significantly more challenging.
The Beginning
Approximately four years ago, I witnessed a scene at Kyiv’s main railway station that evoked Europe’s grim past, unfolding against a backdrop of a biting steppe wind. Kyiv was mired in a frigid winter, its landscape so monochrome that the station’s atmosphere felt like an old newsreel. Yet, it was 2022, a vibrant, digital age. This moment served as a stark warning that the world had fundamentally changed, necessitating a revision of long-held assumptions about European security and future stability.
Since then, further alarm bells have sounded globally, from the Middle East to Sudan and Taiwan. The conflict in Ukraine has precipitated the most significant crisis within the North Atlantic alliance since its inception in 1949. A considerable disparity persists between Trump’s apparent openness towards Putin and the far more critical stance on Moscow adopted by most European NATO members.
During that initial week of the war, Kyiv station’s platforms were thronged with Ukrainian women and children, desperately seeking passage west to escape the advancing Russian army. The distant rumble of Russian artillery and Ukrainian retaliatory fire echoed through the seemingly deserted city center, amplifying the immediate threat. Trains arrived every 15 to 20 minutes, an impressive feat orchestrated by the resourceful Ukrainian railway network. Frightened individuals jostled for boarding, exchanging tearful goodbyes with those remaining to fight. At the peak of the evacuation, the station processed 50,000 people daily.
Within the station concourse, a young soldier, Kalashnikov slung across his back, shared an embrace with his girlfriend before her departure westward, while he returned to his unit. Their parting could have been a Norman Rockwell illustration, evoking a sense of shared struggle similar to that of Americans entering World War II.
Zelensky immediately demonstrated his innate leadership qualities as a wartime president and a gifted communicator, adept at galvanizing his populace. On the first night of the invasion, dispelling rumors of his flight, he appeared in olive-green military attire, recording a selfie video outside the presidential building in Kyiv, flanked by his close advisors. “We are all here,” he declared, “our soldiers are here, the citizens of the country are here. We are all here protecting our independence, our country, and we are going to continue to do so.”
The initial months of Russia’s full-scale invasion were marked by a tumultuous mix of fear, determination, grief, and patriotic fervor among Ukrainians. Russian soldiers occupying areas around Kyiv perpetrated massacres, leaving bodies strewn along highways, in the streets of Bucha, and in hastily dug graves. These grim scenes emerged after Ukraine forced the Russian retreat from the capital, a victory that defied Western allies’ predictions of a swift defeat within weeks.
Ukraine’s unexpected resilience prompted then-US President Joe Biden and other European leaders to supply more advanced weaponry, though never at the pace or quantity Ukraine desired. Citizens who remained volunteered for service, while others established workshops producing Molotov cocktails and camouflage netting. Four years on, that initial surge of energy has understandably waned; war, by its nature, is all-consuming and exhausting.
This fervor has been supplanted by a grim resolve to persevere, particularly among front-line soldiers and their families. President Zelensky recently stated that 55,000 Ukrainian soldiers have been killed over the past four years, acknowledging that many more are classified as missing. The actual number is likely considerably higher, with their remains perhaps scattered along the 800-mile front line. Recruiting replacements for the perilous and ever-expanding kill zones presents a significant challenge. In cities and at checkpoints, men of military age face random document checks. If eligible for conscription and lacking an exemption, they can be immediately directed to barracks.
Securing sufficient personnel to sustain the fight is one of Ukraine’s most pressing concerns. Nevertheless, public opinion polls indicate a strong belief among a majority that Ukraine can continue fighting, despite Russian territorial advances. This conviction stems from a deep-seated perception that Russia intends to annihilate Ukraine as a nation. Furthermore, a significant portion of the population doubts that US-brokered negotiations will yield a lasting peace. Despite this belief that continued fighting is unavoidable, the act of donning a uniform and heading to the front line is not a popular choice.
Valeriy Puzik, an author and poet, voluntarily joined the fight and spent months on the front line. I met him in a fashionable Kyiv bar, a stark contrast to the six-meter-deep dugout he shared with his squad for over 100 days. When asked about the difficulty of recruitment, he explained, “Because when a person leaves a position, they don’t say anything positive. And word of mouth does the worst damage. Because, there is nothing positive there. I wouldn’t wish any of my friends to crawl into a burrow and sit there… I was lucky to survive. Usually, people sit in those burrows for 90, 100, 160 days. We were basically supposed to stay there until spring.” Valeriy’s survival on his latest deployment was due to his willingness to evacuate two wounded comrades. Before he could be sent back, his former position was assaulted, and those who remained, he recounted, were either killed or are now missing. He believes evacuating the wounded men ultimately saved his life.
“If it weren’t for those injuries, most likely we all would have died there,” he stated.
The Long War
Ukraine and Russia have been engaged in conflict since 2014, when President Putin initiated the occupation and annexation of Crimea and subsequently seized parts of the Donbas region in the east. My current visit has yielded no evidence suggesting an imminent end to the war. The full-scale invasion four years ago represented Putin’s attempt to permanently extinguish Ukraine’s independence. He has repeatedly asserted that historical narratives dictate Ukraine’s rightful place within Russia. In a concise refutation posted on X shortly before the invasion’s anniversary, President Zelensky declared, “I don’t need historical shit to end this war and move to diplomacy. Because it’s just a delay tactic. I read no less history books than Putin. And I learned a lot.”
Zelensky has navigated a corruption scandal that led to the resignation of his chief of staff, Andrii Yermak, in the autumn. While he faces vocal critics and potential rivals, his approval ratings remain exceptionally high, envied by most Western leaders. Far to the east of Kyiv, the same trains that evacuated hundreds of thousands of Ukrainians in early 2022 continue to transport people away from danger. The Russian military advances at a glacial pace, yet in the strategically vital Donetsk region, it relentlessly grinds forward, consuming lives, landscapes, and entire settlements. Ukraine still retains approximately one-fifth of the Donetsk oblast, making it the most fiercely contested area of the country.
Over four years, a succession of battles has reduced towns and villages to rubble, from Bakhmut earlier in the conflict to the current focus on Pokrovsk. Each day, buses ferry civilian evacuees from Donetsk to Lozova in Kharkiv oblast. A school has been transformed into a welcoming and organized relief coordination center, filled with families accompanied by a few possessions, leashed dogs, and caged cats, all profoundly marked by loss. Serhii and Viktoria arrived from Druzhkivka, a town now engulfed by the kill zone. Their teenage daughter, Diana, sat silently beside them, her cat Mika resting on her lap. Like countless others displaced by conflict globally, they were leaving to preserve their lives, fully aware that this meant sacrificing not only the remnants of their past existence but also their personal autonomy.
They now wait for administrative processes to conclude, for guidance from others. Viktoria explained their departure: “We are on the brink. We didn’t have any gas, water or power. No heating. We were staying there till the very last moment, freezing for three days.” At the close of 2022, their town, Druzhkivka, was considered a relatively safe area, serving as a base for reporting on Russia’s assault on Bakhmut. However, Viktoria states that no one travels there now; Druzhkivka has become too perilous.
“The drones destroy everything alive – the cars, the people, their homes. I can’t tell you without tears,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. Serhii appeared prematurely aged. “It is very difficult. We have abandoned everything we worked for our whole lives. Everything we worked for, for our families, all we were building. And we had to abandon all that in one moment…everything… We could only pack some small things. We could not have taken more.”
Nearby stood Tamara with her nine-year-old twin granddaughters, Mila and Tina. “The kids. We left because of the kids. We live near the forest… There are lots of tanks… drones are flying everywhere… there is no peace…the children are running to me and crying… it is very loud…. Everything is shaking…” After registration, the families, their belongings, and pets were bused to Lozova station to board a long train bound for Lviv in western Ukraine. Lozova, once a bustling hub for eastbound trains, now serves as the final stop for Ukrainian railways, with lines beyond deemed too dangerous.
A Defiant Ukraine
Negotiations brokered by Trump’s envoys, including his son-in-law Jared Kushner and real estate magnate Steve Witkoff, are ongoing and expected to reconvene in Geneva after the invasion’s anniversary. While Witkoff expressed optimism following the last round, both Russia and Ukraine described the atmosphere as challenging. It remains difficult to envision any ceasefire emerging unless Putin or Zelensky fundamentally alter their positions, as both sides appear convinced of their eventual victory.
These negotiations seem primarily aimed at appeasing Trump, preventing him from assigning blame for any failure to Moscow or Kyiv. The US president tends to exert pressure on Ukraine, having previously made unsubstantiated claims that Zelensky is a dictator who initiated the war. Zelensky recounted laughing at this assertion when questioned. On the eve of the last negotiation round, shortly before the anniversary, Trump publicly urged Ukraine to “come to the table, fast.”
While Trump has significantly curtailed military aid, Ukraine remains dependent on intelligence exclusively provided by the US. European nations, in turn, purchase American weaponry, particularly interceptor missiles, on Ukraine’s behalf. Throughout my recent visit to Ukraine, I encountered a nation that steadfastly refuses to capitulate and shows no indication of approaching defeat. The major cities continue to function effectively, despite Russia’s sustained and impactful attacks on the nation’s power and heating infrastructure throughout the bitterly cold winter. Kyiv experiences traffic congestion, its shops, restaurants, and cafes are well-stocked. However, air-raid sirens frequently sound, often in the early hours, and harrowing accounts emerge of civilians killed in their homes by Russian drones and ballistic missiles. Ukraine is actively rebuilding its military-industrial complex, focusing on long-range strikes against Russia.
President Zelensky expressed his conviction that Ukraine can win the war and stressed the necessity of increasing European support for its continued efforts. Spring is approaching, but in this region, winter can persist well into April. Russia has exerted considerable pressure on Ukraine throughout one of the coldest winters in years, targeting power stations and Soviet-era plants that supply districts with hot water and heat. In the ruins of a power station, access to which was granted under the condition of anonymity, workers were salvaging steel from the wreckage. The facility, battered by Russian missiles and drones, requires complete reconstruction rather than repair. With his breath misting in sub-zero temperatures, a foreman articulated the prevailing sentiment when asked about Russia’s motives: “They want to make us kneel. They want to bring Ukraine to its knees.” This existential threat is the stark reality driving Ukraine’s unwavering determination to resist, perpetuating the conflict.