by 
In Ukraine’s north-eastern Sumy region, bordering Russia, a small unit of soldiers faces a nightly struggle against advanced Russian drones using outdated weaponry. As dusk falls, the troops, part of the 117 Territorial Defence Brigade, emerge from the treeline to confront Iranian-designed Shahed drones—low-cost, long-range weapons that have become a key tool in Russia’s arsenal.
The unit’s commander, codenamed Jaeger, monitors a screen displaying clusters of red dots, each marking a drone’s position. On this evening, over 30 drones were detected across Sumy and neighbouring Chernihiv. Armed with heavy machine guns mounted on flatbed trucks and light firearms, the soldiers scan the skies, firing at the faint whir of propellers. Tracer fire lights up the darkness, but the drones often slip away, their speed and altitude making them elusive targets. “It’s like Groundhog Day,” Jaeger says, describing the repetitive, gruelling routine. His unit, made up of locals including a farmer, a builder, and himself—a former forest ranger and mixed martial arts fighter—faces up to 100 drones a night. Cloud cover and rain make detection even harder, allowing many drones to pass through to deeper Ukrainian targets, including the capital, Kyiv. That night, Russia launched over 300 drones at Kyiv, overwhelming air defences and striking six locations. By morning, the death toll reached 30 as rescue teams searched the rubble. The attack underscores the growing intensity of Russia’s drone warfare in Ukraine’s fourth summer of full-scale conflict. In Sumy, the war’s toll is deeply personal. Margaryta Husakova, 37, survived a drone attack on 17 May that killed nine civilians, including her mother, sister, and uncle, when their bus was hit. Her right arm shattered, Margaryta now faces an uncertain future with her eight children, fearing nowhere in Ukraine is safe. “I’m terrified, not for myself but for the children,” she told the BBC at an evacuation centre in Sumy. The region, dotted with cornfields, sunflowers, and concrete anti-tank barriers, remains under threat. Russian forces, aiming to create a “buffer zone,” have advanced up to 12 kilometres into Sumy, according to President Vladimir Putin. Ukraine’s army chief, General Oleksandr Syrskyi, claims the advance has been halted, but the region’s 200 evacuated villages tell a story of relentless pressure. At a forest training ground, a soldier known as “Student” reflects on the war’s personal cost. Having sent his family abroad in 2022, he is now divorced and has not seen his daughters since. Of his original platoon of 30, only four remain alive. “This war is blood, dirt, and sweat,” he says, predicting no end in the next year or two, even with a ceasefire. With air raid sirens a constant backdrop and no immediate prospect of peace, Sumy’s defenders and residents brace for more winters of war. Russia’s demands escalate, and US President Donald Trump’s earlier claims of a quick peace deal have faded amid new global conflicts. For now, Ukraine’s sky defenders remain locked in their relentless battle.
