The backline of the Zaporizhzhia front
4 November 2026
Standing before a Soviet T-72 tank armored with a metal cage and steel “hedgehogs” to repel FPV drones, I am struck with awe. My awe is not at the tank itself, but rather at one of the nine journalists who had been brought to this position, handing water bottles to the soldiers, telling them how to pose for a story about how tank operators are managing the summer heat. Of course the irony is palpable, as the same soldier being posed had just told us that they had not had an operation in months.
The Zaporizhzhia front is extremely active, especially with foreign fighters, but it is not often discussed, partly because the former press official for the southern region was notorious in media circles for being difficult to work with. Many in the press circle wrote off operating here because of that in favor of better opportunities in Donetsk and Kharkiv regions. The other side of that is now with a new press official; the same familiarity with working with the media that became prevalent in other regions is seemingly rare here.
Our team spent tireless days attempting to set up work with the armed forces in Zaporizhzhia. We were either turned away or received no response from at least five different units. This situation, however, gave a unique opportunity to document the city of Zaporizhzhia and backline operations in the region.
World of tank vs drones
You will often hear people speak that tanks and other heavily armored vehicles are now useless on the front. This is not entirely true; during Operation Vivaldi armored vehicles and traditional ride-in assaults were used and shown off for the world, but the key to using tanks and other armored vehicles effectively is to manage the drone threat. During Operation Vivaldi, the Ukrainian armed forces successfully disrupted Russian drone units that were targeting their counter-offensive, while the soldiers of the 65th Mechanized Brigade has to rely on poor weather conditions, such as heavy fog and rain, to carry out missions or reposition for future attacks and fire suppression. During a recent mission in spring, under foggy conditions with visibility of less than twenty meters, the soldiers surprised and engaged a russian BTR that was deploying troops, which I was informed likely was a “low-moral” moment for the russian infantry.
“Tanks are the priority target,” that is what I am told by the commander of the 1st company, “Logist.” Now each tank is equipped and used for a specific mission. Now the tank he is sat upon is for assault operations—equipped with high-powered jammers, an armored hedgehog, and a camera system that allows for them to see all angles around them. Logist tells me that these tanks are built to save the vehicle, as that is what the Russians will target, even more than the crew. It’s almost impossible to exit the tank in battle, so the focus is on enduring attacks. Fiber optic FPVs are not considered a threat when tanks are built like these, but the real danger comes from larger loitering munitions such as Lancet strike drones. Not all drones are bad, though; Ukrainian drone teams within the battalion can aid during missions, allowing for real-time fire correction and a greater view of the battlefield than any other time in history.
Repairs and maintenance are needed even when there are no daily missions; the wear and tear on these aging tanks can be felt with every ride. “Sympakha,” the lead sergeant of the tank battalion, tells me about a mission that took place during the fog when they were driving to a position and encountered two “waiter” drones lining their path as they sat in ambush for something to drive-by. With the fog, it meant that they were never activated, but the crew inside could feel the shake of the explosions as their tank tread crushed them, and later three more exploded under the tank’s tread on the return to their position. When they returned to their position, they found more of these waiter drones and understood that this position had been made before diverting and finding new accommodations. A couple members of the tank crew were shaken, but the tank itself had no major damage. As Sympakha says, “You need to be able to make sure this vehicle can take you to-and-from the mission safely.”
Standing for your brothers
Having just completed a mission to build defensive structures, this unit of the 194th Pontoon-Bridge Brigade was in the process of hauling away spare materials when one of the soldiers in charge of taking down FPV threats saw a signal appear on his drone detector. Over the past half a year seven excavators of the brigade had been destroyed, as vehicles are the main target. Behind a thin cover of branches. This soldier, Albert, decided he was going to take it down as the others in his unit made it to safety. Albert now sits in a Zaporizhzhia region medical facility without a leg. “Well, it just so happened that I didn’t take down the UAV, although in principle, I probably did.” He laughs. “I’m alive, and it lost a little bit of its combat capability.”
Two others quickly joined in Albert’s effort to take this drone down. “I was shooting from under the trees. But the branches on the trees turned out to be thin, and it flew right through them. Maybe I hit it a little bit there—I don’t know. Maybe. The guys there said they also heard and saw it attacking me. I couldn’t see it anymore—I didn’t have time to think about that; I was shooting. […] I saw that he was already right below me, I was shooting, he jumped back at the last moment, and there was an explosion somewhere near me.
Remaining conscious, he radioed in his injury, and the nearby commander of his battalion and a medic soon arrived to place a tourniquet and stabilized him. “I was completely focused… I was fighting against him (drone). To me, he was, you know, like just an enemy. Well, like I’m saying, some people—even our own guys, the ones who come from the units—they tell me I need to hide there, to take cover. Well, I wanted to… […] On the front lines, you can, as they say, shoot—and you have to do it.”
While praising the Brigade’s command and their emphasis on the safety of their men, he was also very honest: “But you know what the problem is? We’re construction workers—myself included. What kind of “hunter” am I supposed to be? Although I was a paratrooper during my mandatory military service, that was 30 years ago.”
The leading doctors of the 450th military hospital tell me that 90% of frontline injuries now come from drones. Now that the frontline has moved closer to Zaporizhzhia, this proximity benefits injured soldiers by allowing them to receive treatment more quickly; however, it also poses a greater risk, as the medical facility is more likely to be attacked. With warnings of attacks being sudden, it is very difficult to get people to safety in case of an attack, and those doctors already in medical procedures must continue their work and accept the risk of doing so.
The medical pipeline in Ukraine functions as such:
- Non-infantry frontline units that have a dedicated medic are rare; so many field injuries must be handled soldier-to-soldier, and they often must wait on position for days or weeks.
- From there they are sent back towards stabilization points either by ground drone, vehicle, experimental aerial drone, or on foot.
- The stabilization point does just that: stabilizes the worst injuries and sends them back to hospitals like this one for further examination and treatment.
With hospitals that have had the frontline come towards them, it can seem like the lines blur between the latter two. They provide care for injuries typically seen at “Stab” points, as well as longer-term care for those in need. Blood is stocked of all kinds, beds are filled, and the staff must work tirelessly, as there is never a slow day.
When I asked Albert how it felt in the moments of his attack, he said, “Well, let me put it this way: I had the feeling that I was going to tear apart. I didn’t feel any fear, and even now I don’t feel any regret. I believe I did everything right. The reaction of people—colleagues in the service, civilians says a lot. I didn’t hear anyone say, ‘Well, you’re an idiot.’ You know, I played soccer before. There are a lot of soccer players, and they tend to hide more, and even they are calling me a hero.” Albert hopes to return to active service with his brigade when medically cleared too. Perhaps as a drone operator himself.
Life in Zaporizhzhia
Zaporizhzhia was home to the Cossacks of the Zaporizhzhian Sich—a band of wanted men, raiders, master sailors, and a people to join who fought for their freedom to fend off threats from the Ottoman Empire’s slave raids, Tsarist Moscovia’s (later Russian Empire) ambitions on the land that would later become Ukraine, and Polish colonization of the old Kyivan Rus’ lands—the island of Khortytsia was their capital. Located in the middle of the Dnipro River. Filled with legends and tall tales, it now sits surrounded by the city of Zaporizhzhia. Life continues as it does across the frontline; bars and restaurants are open, gas stations lie in burnt ruin, people play music in the park, anti-FPV drone netting scatters the roadways, and air raid sirens ring out as KAB bombs fall down upon the city.
Arriving at a KAB strike site, I see a civilian housing area lying in waste. A rubble-filled hole is now all that remains as a backhoe loader scoops up the remnants of someone’s life. City workers and hastily dressed civilian survivors dash around to clear broken windows, remove broken panels of roofing, and clean their damaged homes. A body bag is taken away from the scene, and exhausted DSNS workers sit on their fire truck. This system operates seamlessly, with daily attacks on the city, yet everyone continues to show up day after day to fight for their people.
Part of an inscription found on the island of Khortytsia reads as follows: “A Cossack is a reckless person who is able to act. This is a brave person, above all.”
