The man holds the 100kg bomb in his father’s arms before gently placing it on the back of the truck. It is a small rocket that curves until it becomes a rounded plane.
He loads it with C4 plastic explosive, stuffing the pink, clay-like substance into a metal strip about twenty inches long. Then the fuse goes in. Now the bomb is primed; in just a few hours it will destroy its target.
I am in northeastern Ukraine doing what no journalist has ever done: joining a special forces unit during a maximum national security mission: a strategic attack, hundreds of kilometers inside Russia itself.
Set in a field of thick grass and bluebells, the scene is incongruously tranquil. Out of beauty will come destruction.
“You want to know how to hurt Russia? Hit them on their own soil. Bring them the terror they bring to the world,” says Ivan, commander of an unmanned aerial vehicle (UAV) unit. “Russia can send recruits endlessly to Ukraine. They are considered the worst worms in their country – completely expendable.”
David Patrikarakos is the first journalist to be embedded with a special forces unit during a deep raid in Russia… seen here through a night vision lens.
Ivan’s men have a specific job: appearing out of nowhere to launch attacks on targets deep inside Russia, before disappearing again.
“On social media you often see the results of a successful attack behind the lines. Often it’s us. Sometimes no one will know except the enemy,” Ivan tells me. “But the enemy will know for sure.”
Moscow can send its human waste to Ukraine, but it is in its own country, far from the front, that the weapons factories, drone workshops and everything the country needs to keep its terrorist machinery running with murderous efficiency are located. It is all about interrupting the process of war, Ivan explains.
The Ukrainians do not have enough bombs to destroy, for example, a large arms factory spread over several floors, but they can attack a smaller facility that supplies vital parts for Russia’s war. Because Ukrainian weaponry is so limited, precision and creativity are vital.
And they have succeeded. In the last six months, Ivan’s team has caused damage to the enemy worth 200 million dollars.
‘Each operation requires days, sometimes weeks, of planning. Each objective is unique and we cannot afford any mistakes.’
It is about finding the weak point in the weapons production system; the parts of weapons that are irreplaceable or that can only be replaced—and inadequately, at that—with cheap Chinese technology.
‘The Russians still have huge problems. All their best stuff is based on technology from the 1980s,’ Ivan continues. ‘They use Iranian Shahed drones because they can’t make Tomahawk missiles. They outgun and outnumber us, so we exploit any vulnerability they have.’
The need to directly attack Putin’s war machine — rather than kill the endless supply of soldiers he sends to Ukraine — is why kyiv is desperate to get permission to use US-supplied weapons inside Russia, and why more countries, including the UK, are finally giving Ukraine the green light to do so with the weapons they supply.
The 100 kg payload that was loaded onto the drone that would be sent towards Russian targets
Taras, a member of the unit and a friend of mine, introduced me to Ivan to decide if he could trust me. I passed the test and two days later I was in a car with Ivan and two of his colleagues, Rodion and Valeriy. They told me simply that we would “go north.” Sitting next to me, Valeriy explained another benefit of deep attacks: their psychological impact.
‘Imagine you’re a Russian conscript, stocking up on ammunition deep inside Russia. You’ve never been to the front; you occasionally grab your rifle and pretend to be on patrol, but you know there’s no serious threat.
“But one night, while you’re lying in your warm bed, you hear a noise in the air and suddenly your world explodes.”
He pauses and smiles. “And right now we’re hundreds of miles away having a cup of coffee.”
As we approach the site where the drones will be launched, they take my phone and put it in an insulated bag that prevents me from sending or receiving information. All soldiers have secure phones. We pass grassy checkpoints and enter a small, impoverished town with low-ceilinged buildings and narrow, colorful shops selling everything from phone cards to cheap shoes.
The terrain becomes uneven. The landscape changes from cement to bush. We are getting closer. Finally, several hours after leaving, we arrived at the mission site and parked among a group of trees.
We are now within range of the deadly Russian glide bombs. Valeriy opens his laptop to reveal a “live” map. I see enemy planes patrolling the air. He is “assessing air threats,” specifically checking for Russian drones coming our way. Now we are waiting for “the device”, the drone, to arrive.
Meanwhile, the mosquitoes devour me. They bite my neck, my arms, and (confusingly because I’m wearing pants) my legs. I swear and try to push them away. I look at Valeriy standing stoically next to me. ‘Aren’t they biting you?’ Asked. “Yes,” he replies, “but I don’t mention it.”
Then I am reminded, once again, of what can be reported or filmed and what cannot. “I am sorry for all this,” says Valeriy. But there is no choice.
It’s getting tense. Rodion pulls an automatic weapon out of the car, places the magazine in and tests the sights. Finally the ‘gadget’ arrives. It’s being towed behind a vehicle on a large trailer. I go over to inspect it and find something I wasn’t expecting. The ‘gadget’ is actually a small two-seater passenger plane about three metres long. Only something this size can carry such a large payload.
The aircraft has been adapted to be able to fly remotely and is now being assembled.
A wing lies on the ground. Several men are standing around it, working on its body, screwing parts together and checking its electronics.
Next to a three-bladed propeller on its nose are two black triangular slits that look like eyes and, below, two rectangular ones that resemble a nose and mouth. “He looks like a cat,” says Ivan. “Yes, an angry cat,” I reply.
Russian tank destroyed during Ukrainian drone attack
Finally, they tell me what the goal is: an electrical installation for a weapons factory 200 miles away, in western Russia. In fact, the goal is more specific than that.
It would take ten bombs to destroy the factory and several for the power plant. They only have one bomb, so it is the power plant’s transponder (power source) that must be attacked. Take it out and the plant will stop working. The production line is duly destroyed.
The plane is assembled. The men high-five and tell me it will take off in the dark. The sun sets and a fiery red diamond disappears on the horizon. “Beautiful Ukraine,” I say to three soldiers standing near me. “Yes, but it’s not a good time for Ukraine,” they reply.
“Fuck Russia” is the general consensus.
The night falls. The device is carried on a concrete path that will serve as a landing pad. The men gather to make final checks. They all have red lights strapped to their foreheads.
These are harder to see from the air and will help avoid unpleasant enemy attention. The 100kg payload we carry with us is taken to the “runway” and fixed to the base of the aircraft. We are almost ready to launch.
I enter a mobile command unit where the trajectory of the UAV plane is already plotted. I discovered that the men inside were commercial airline pilots in civilian life.
Now that Ukraine is converting planes into unmanned aerial vehicles, it needs their skills to wage war most effectively. One of them, Oleksandr, will control the plane remotely during takeoff, before it switches to autopilot.
I step outside and watch as the plane begins to move under Oleksandr’s direction. It will take off about 200 meters away for safety reasons. If it crashes or is shot down, we don’t want to be near the 100kg bomb as its explosion can be deadly at a distance of up to 100 meters. Once it’s in the air, we all get into our vehicles and quickly drive away. We don’t want to be near it if it’s detected.
A while later we arrived at a cafe. The mobile unit follows the UAV, a dot that constantly moves across an electronic screen.
Finally, as: slices of ham and cheese on white bread. It’s basic but, right now, delicious.
After several hours: success. The UAV is back. The men are happy.
They show me a video showing how they destroy a target. I look at my cup of coffee and remember Valeriy’s words; and I smile.
The next morning, the official Russian reaction comes through the Telegram messaging application, through an announcement from the region’s governor.
“An attempt by the kyiv regime to carry out a terrorist attack with an unmanned aerial vehicle has been thwarted,” the statement read. “The air defense forces of the Russian Ministry of Defense have destroyed an aeronautical-type unmanned aerial vehicle.
‘There were no casualties or damage. Operational and emergency services are working at the scene.’
This is followed by an almost identical one from the Russian Ministry of Defense itself.
“Russians always lie,” is Ivan’s simple response. Later he discussed the operation with Taras. “World War III is no longer a fantasy, David,” he says. “And we in Ukraine are like the great Wall of Game of Thrones: the defense of the Western world.”
And he continues: ‘Europe finally seems to understand the problem. But it does not have enough ammunition or armies that are large enough.
“If Russia defeats us, Poland will fight, but if it is defeated, the last front is Great Britain. Germany has no army; France does, but, David, you have been on the front: they do not have the means to fight like that. There are no planes there. It is all drones and artillery.”
The war is ultimately an economic battle. We are in an economic war with Russia and we are losing. Ammunition in Russia is ten times cheaper than in the West. That is why Ukraine needs to attack everything it can inside Russia, and that is why we cannot waver in our attempts to help it.
I remember something Ivan told me: “We have been fighting for the idea of a free world for ten years, not two years,” he said. “We are sincerely grateful for all the help, but we are struggling.”
“If we, with such small numbers, can fight Russia, surely you can too.” It is time to be brave because difficult times are coming. As your great wartime leader once said: “We have nothing to offer except blood, sweat and tears.”
“Let us remember his words and do it together.”