As Drone and Anti-Air Defenses Adapt, "War Will Be Won By Who Invests Smarter"

Drones are getting faster, while changing direction and tempo arrythmically to confuse Ukraine's anti-air defenders. 

But the Ukrainians are adapting by using machine guns with thermal screens and links to AI. The race is to decide who can invest smarter and faster to outwit the other. JL

Fermin Torrano reports in The Telegraph:

As Kyiv pushes for more Patriot missiles and advanced defence batteries,  soldiers are doing what billion-pound systems cannot: reacting in real time to Moscow’s main threat before they reach Ukraine’s cities. Drones can alter course and speed mid-flight, making them harder to shoot down. “Everyone is adapting in their own way. Russians modified the fuel tanks design, the motors, or paint the Shaheds black. And we have had thermal screens mounted on our machine guns. Sooner or later, these battles will be fought entirely in the air. The war will be won by whoever invests smarter."

The vehicle’s lights are switched off and the battlefield plunges into darkness. The machine gun vanishes and the soldiers disappear. Only the starlight sketches out the silhouettes of Ukrainian troops in position on a bridge.

The day has ended, but their mission is about to begin: it’s time to hunt Russia’s drones.

As Kyiv pushes for more Patriot missiles and advanced defence batteries, this handful of soldiers are doing what billion-pound systems cannot: reacting in real time to Moscow’s main threat before they reach Ukraine’s cities. 

 

In the past month, they have downed seven Shahed 136s. Is it a lot? Or not enough? The crackle of the radio interrupts the debate.

“Stay sharp, we’ve got work to do,” shouts Ivan, commander of the mobile anti-air battery. “There’s one heading this way. We’ll try to bring it down.”

The Shahed is one of Kyiv’s greatest foes – not for its destructive power, but for its ability to overwhelm air defences.

 

Cheap, explosive and increasingly hard to intercept, Russia sends several thousand each month. Launched in waves alongside ballistic missiles, they overwhelm even the most advanced systems, and put high-value assets such as the F-16 jet at serious risk.

 

The weapon’s importance to Russia was underscored when a number of Shaheds were paraded on May 9 – the first time drones have been included in Moscow’s annual Victory Day celebrations.

In recent days, as Kyiv and its allies have pushed for a full 30-day ceasefire, the sound of the drones’ four-cylinder engines overhead has not stopped, and they have continued to target civilian centres.

Hi-tech Western arms are capable of intercepting individual Shaheds and Russian ballistic missiles, but each Patriot missile costs millions of pounds. In contrast, each Shahed costs Russia about £26,000 to produce.

 

Since Donald Trump returned to the White House, Ukraine’s EU allies are scrambling to supply Kyiv with more missiles.

 

Troops on the ground, like those from the 115 Brigade, are working to plug the gaps and bring the drones down themselves.

 

Back on the bridge, the soldiers burst into motion, and a gunner jumps into the back of a modified pick-up. Its sides and rear gate have been stripped away, replaced by a swivel seat with foot pedals to fire the mounted 14.5mm machine gun.

A thermal imaging screen helps to track targets overhead.

A few metres away, another soldier locks a blue laser onto the incoming drone, marking its trajectory. Tracer rounds follow the beam. A yellow streak rips through the night, and empty casings clatter onto the tarmac. The burst lasts for 24 seconds.

 

“Move,” Ihor shouts. “Let’s go, let’s go, we must change position.”

Some soldiers scramble back into the van, others sprint to a nearby 4x4. It seems they have missed their target, but there is no time to dwell on it.

On the battlefields of Ukraine, every shot is a gift to the enemy. Hit or miss, once they open fire, they become targets for a Russian counterstrike, and the priority now is to get to cover fast.

 

“What really makes it difficult is their change of speed,” says Volodia, commander of a second anti-air battery. “If it were constant, we could set the interception point and fire slightly ahead of the target. But it is not that simple.”

 

These drones can alter course and speed mid-flight, making them harder to shoot down.

Russia’s domestically produced model travels at about 200 kilometres an hour (124 miles an hour). But a new version – the Shahed 238 – could triple that top speed, further complicating the defenders’ job.

“Everyone is adapting in their own way,” says Volodia. “Russians modified the fuel tanks design, the motors, or paint the Shaheds black. And we adjust as well. For several weeks now, we have had thermal screens mounted on our machine guns.”

Ivan nods beside him: “Before that, it was almost impossible to bring them down.”

 

The thermal technology not only extends detection range to up to three kilometres (almost two miles) but also nullifies camouflage efforts and improves accuracy, helping the gunners hit critical components, such as the engine.

But the battlefield is evolving fast. As Ukraine’s defences sharpen, Russia adapts, sending more decoy drones, using Ukrainian SIM cards to reroute the flights after crossing the front line, and equipping the unmanned systems with electronic warfare to mislead interceptors.

For many Ukrainians, the promise of Western arms remains distant.

Cities such as Sumy, Kryvyi Rih or Kharkiv are suffering bloody strikes, with civilian casualties mounting, all while Vladimir Putin talks about peace.

 

This is why Kyiv is pressing to acquire 10 Patriot systems for £11.3 billion to add to the eight it is reported to already possess. The air defence system is widely recognised for its ability to track and intercept aircraft, cruise and ballistic missiles with high-precision.

 

Recently, Kyiv secured one US launcher previously deployed in Israel, along with 100 missiles for it from Germany. Washington’s approval of the delivery marks one small gesture towards Ukraine since the signing of the mineral agreement.

But the limited Patriot batteries are focused on countering the most serious threats. Solutions, such as the 13 Raven air defence systems sent by Britain, remain scarce.

Until more weapons are delivered, mobile anti-aircraft units like the one from the 115 Brigade will remain vital to intercepting Russia’s drones.

 

“Go to the shelter, go to the shelter. I repeat, go to the shelter,” the radio pops again.

“A Russian KAB (guided bomb) is incoming,” Volodia says calmly. This time, the soldiers are unmoved. “It’s not aimed at us. The system would alert.”

He lifts his head just as a sharp ripple tears through the air. Seconds later, a flash ignites the horizon. “One-two-three-four-five-six ...” someone counts into the darkness. A deafening blast shakes the ground. “Fifteen,” a soldier, call sign Mer, shouts. “Fifteen seconds.”

What does that mean?

“That it hit about five or six kilometres away,” Mer explains, having roughly calculated the distance by multiplying the time between the flash and the sound of the blast.

 

“Sooner or later, these battles will be fought entirely in the air,” ponders Volodia, who worked in a hospital in central Ukraine before the invasion began. He once delivered babies. Now, he fights to save lives.

“We already have effective anti-aircraft drones, but they are expensive,” he says. “The war will be won by whoever invests smarter.”

Victory is always on Ukrainian lips, even as talk at far-off negotiating tables turns to Ukraine being forced to concede swathes of territory to Russia.

But Volodia is confident Ukraine can win: “We know how to fight with less.”