Aura Guerin
Senior International Correspondent of Ukraine Smie
Mooster Campbell/BBC
Smy Front soldiers are about to intercept about 100 drones from Russia overnight.
As the evening light faded, a handful of Ukrainian troops emerged from the tree line to face unequal battles. Their mission – to shoot down 21st century killer drones with weapons designed during the death period of World War I.
In the Smie region of the northeastern part of Ukraine, which is adjacent to Russia, this is a nightly battle.
Shortly after we joined the army, there was danger in the sky, tension and adrenaline on the ground.
The Commander – Codename Jager – was glued to a screen showing a cluster of red dots. By evening there were already 30 above the adjacent areas of Smie and Chernihib.
Two flatbed trucks were kicked out for liquidation. Behind each one is a heavy machine gun and a gunner scan the sky. The truck was caught between a ready unit, a light machine gun.
We could hear the propeller scream before we could see the drone that was barely visible as the drone sliced through the sky. The army fired – all the guns flare up at once – but the drone disappeared into the distance. These low-cost, long-range weapons are terrifying Ukraine.
There were frequent flashes of humor during the war. “You know when that short guy gets nervous when the next drone is coming,” Jaeger said pointing to one of his teams.
Mooster Campbell/BBC
Tracer fire streaked across the sky as Ukrainian troops hunt Russian drones
As the darkness closed, drones continued to appear, and the army continued to challenge. But how do they feel when these suicide drones pass through?
“Well, that’s not very good,” Jegger, sommly, glancing over. “You feel a slight sadness, but to be honest – as you saw – you don’t have time for emotions. One can enter and the other can come behind it. You work in this rhythm.
He and his men are “mobile fire units” from Ukraine’s 117 territorial defense brigades. All locals are trying to protect their country as well as their hometown. Most Russian drones fly around this area and fly deep into Ukraine.
“They come in big waves and often fly at different altitudes,” Jaeger said. “If the cloud cover is heavy, they fly over the clouds and we can’t see them. And it’s very difficult to detect them when it’s raining.”
Sumy’s 100 night drones are standard.
His unit includes a farmer (“I’m going to do something else on the field now,” he jokes) and a builder. Jager himself is a former forest ranger and a martial arts fighter.
Now he fights enemies that he can almost see.
“It’s the same thing every day, over and over again,” he says. “For us, it’s just like Groundhog Day.”
“The worst thing is, the year is over,” adds builder Kurban.
Mooster Campbell/BBC
Jaeger leads a force of locals trying to protect Samui and other parts of Ukraine from Russian drones
Many of the drones in the sky above Smie that night headed towards the capital, Kiev. Jaeger and his men knew that. We did that too. My knowledge was cold.
The air raid warning warned the residents of Kiev to the residents of the next drone. According to the Ukrainian Air Force, Russia aimed to beat its air defense in the capital overnight to reach more than 300 people. By the morning, six locations had been attacked, and the victims had been recovered from the kawara rub. The day after the death toll rose to 30.
During Ukraine’s fourth summer full-scale war, the fields around Smee are dotted with unblown corn, sunflowers and dragon teeth harvests.
The photos were very different last fall. The Ukrainian forces turned the table in a cross-border attack on Russia and acquired territory in Kursk’s neighbourhood.
By March this year, most people had been kicked out, but the Ukrainian military chief recently said it still holds the territory there. By May, President Zelensky warned that 50,000 Russian troops were chunky “in the direction of Smie.”
By June, more than 200 villages and Smee villages had evacuated as Kremlin men had slowly moved forward.
Putin wants a “buffer zone” along the border and talks about the threat to Smee city.
“Cities…Next, the community centre,” he said recently. “We don’t have a task to take Smie, but I won’t rule it out.” He claims that his troops are already up to 12 kilometers (7.5 miles) within the area.
Warning: The next section contains disastrous details
General Oleksandr Silsky, the head of the Ukrainian army, claims that his army has halted Russia’s advances, but the war has already been shut down with Margarita Hussakova, 37, who threatens her village. There was an explosion and she warned her sister not to come.
“She’s here anyway,” Margarita says.
On the morning of May 17th, the sisters set out with other relatives for a trip to the city.
“I remember how we came, how we got on the bus and how we laughed, and how we were happy,” Margarita says. “Then we started leaving and it happened.”
The bus was torn apart by a Russian drone in an attack that killed nine people (all civilians), including his mother, uncle and sister.
Margarita was pulled out of the wreckage with her crushed right arm.
Mooster Campbell/BBC
Margarita lost her mother, sister and uncle on a drone strike on a bus. She survived with her crushed arm
She is tormented by what she has lost and what she sees. Her description is graphic.
“I opened my eyes, but there was no bus,” she said, her voice began to break. “I looked around, my sister’s head torn apart. My mother, too, she was lying there, bumping into the temple. My uncle fell off the bus and his brain was exposed.”
We met at the reception centre in the sandbox for evacuees in Smee. Margarita sat outside the wooden bench, sought comfort from her cigarette. She said she was planning to leave for another relative’s house, but feared that her eight children would not be safe there either.
“Maybe we’ll have to get away even more,” she said: “It’s scary everywhere.”
“I’m scared not for myself, but for the kids. I have to save them. That’s what matters.”
The Air Raid siren cried out overhead as we spoke. There were no other people around us either. “We’re just running for an explosion right now,” the Ukrainian journalist explained, “only if you’re nearby, loudly.”
Mooster Campbell/BBC
Soldiers such as “students” have seen relationships fall apart due to years of war tensions
There is little talk about Sumy of a ceasefire. Not to mention the end of Europe’s biggest war since 1945.
US President Donald Trump no longer argues that he can bring peace in Ukraine in just one day. He was caught up in a new war and bombed Iran’s nuclear sites.
Consultations between Russia and Ukraine only delivered the exchange of prisoners, resulting in the revival of the bodies. Putin appears to be encouraging and is increasing his demands.
With the summer sun still overhead, those trying to save Ukraine are hoping for more war winters. We followed the bumpy tracks deep in the forest and met a fresh army from the frontline. They had completed weapon skills review courses at remote training grounds. The 35-year-old suffers from fighting with a shaved head and a full whisker, was one of the group-call sign “students”.
“I don’t think the war will end in next year or two,” he told me. “And even if it ends in six months with some sort of ceasefire, it will start again in four or five years. Putin has imperialist ambitions.”
War hurts – seen and invisible.
The “student” sent his family abroad for safety shortly after the full-scale Russian invasion in February 2022, and has since been unable to see their two daughters.
He and his wife are now divorced. The other soldiers we met also talked about broken relationships and marriages that were bent under tension.
Students collect war as “blood, dirt, sweat” and don’t try to hide their costs. “We joined the battalion as a platoon of 30 neighbors,” he told me.
“Only four of us are alive today.”
Additional reports from Wietske Burema, Moose Campbell and Volodymyr Lozhko
