How Ukraine’s “Forest War” is being defined by drone ambushes and infiltration under scorched trees

The fields around us smolder from recent Russian strikes, dark smoke drifting into the sky as Shahed drones roar overhead. The trees are charred and skeletal after years of fighting.

The Serebryansky Forest, near the Lyman sector of the front, is part of the fiercely contested Donbas region, which Russia’s Vladimir Putin told the US in August he plans to seize within “two to three months, maximum four.” That gives him until the end of the year, and Moscow is pouring resources and men into the fight.

Before heading on the perilous route to the frontline headquarters of 63 Separate Mechanized Brigade’s unmanned systems battalion, deputy commander “Babay” checks in to establish if Russian first-person-view (FPV) drones are active in the area. Once the all-clear comes, he slams his pickup into gear and speeds toward the front, navigating between burning patches of land.

“You can see the devastation everywhere. The Serebryansky Forest has been under fire for three years straight,” Babay says. “Fires sweep through constantly, destroying positions and equipment. Last year it was so bad we couldn’t even use the roads.”

Some stretches of road are lined with wooden posts, while others are fully covered with posts and netting to shield against enemy drones. These improvised “fish nets” have become a familiar feature along the front, serving as a key countermeasure against air strikes, especially by fiber-optic drones, which can’t be jammed.

As we drive beneath a net tunnel, Babay says they have barely 20% of the materials needed to finish shielding the roads in and out of the front. “We need more of everything than we had before — more wood, more nets,” he says.

Once inside the dugout, the battalion gets to work repelling Russian assaults. On the command post’s wall of TV screens, the first image I catch is a Russian soldier trudging through an open field with a trash bag draped over him.

Moments later, an FPV drone screams into the frame and detonates. “Easier to dispose of him, he’s already in a trash bag,” one soldier mutters, eyes fixed on the feed.

In two years of fighting, Babay says the unit has only lost 1.7km (1 mile) of ground in the area. However, in recent weeks, Russian troops have pushed through much of the forest, reaching positions less than 10km from the Siverskyi Donets River.

On one monitor, a chain of burnt Russian motorcycles is visible from an assault earlier in the day, which was halted by spikes dropped on the road by a Ukrainian drone.

“His tire blew out. One bike hit them and stopped, which forced the others to stop too,” says Leonid, who plans drone missions for the unit. The other soldiers panicked, dropping their motorcycles and running for cover in the trees, he says. Drones were quickly sent after them.

“We first destroyed all the motorcycles so they couldn’t escape,” he says. “After that, we targeted them in the forest.”

Yukhim, one of the drone feed watchers, says the unit has killed 214 Russian soldiers, injuring another 26, in a recent two-week stretch.

For each kilometer on the front, there are five-to-six points where Russian infantry try to assault, but their tactics are changing. They no longer storm the line head-on and instead aim to slip into the rear and hide.

“They come through little ravines, skirting around our positions without entering a firefight. They avoid contact, moving along tree lines, small orchards, little groves,” Leonid says. “Our logistics are disrupted and we have to deliver food, water, and ammunition to our guys by drone.”

The battalion is now working with the volunteer organization Dignitas Ukraine to help train operators on robotics because the risks are growing, says Babay.

“Until now, we relied on pickup trucks for logistics,” he explains. His unit consumes “50–60 FPV drones a day, many of them large models carrying 7–10kg [15-22lbs] of explosives.” To sustain that pace, pickups must haul about 300kg of materiel at a time.

While electronic warfare (EW) protection helps, Babay says the most effective shield is the forest itself. “Enemy radio signals don’t work as well there,” he says. “But technology like acoustic sensors does not last long because the forests are constantly burning. Artillery strikes or drone hits set them off easily.”

The unit uses ancient techniques to help detect fiber-optic drones, which are harder to spot. “Soldiers listen for sounds in the forest,” Babay says. “When they hear something, they pass it through our brigade network. It’s not hi-tech, but it works.”

To counter Moscow’s new tactics, the unit tracks enemy activity as soldiers approach the front and attempt to infiltrate Ukrainian defenses. Russian commanders throw more and more troops into the field in the hope that some will get through.

“Their logistics are stretched in stages,” Leonid says. “First vehicles drop them in the forest, then motorcycles move them closer, and finally they march on foot. They often walk nine kilometers just to reach the line of contact, sometimes 15 in total.”

“Along the way, we ambush them. In the last 10 days, we’ve killed about 200 this way. Prisoners say only one in 10 who start the march actually make it into the village.”

With time and a horrific level of attrition, some slip through. “The situation is surreal — our guys in one house, Russians in the next,” Leonid says “They’re that close. You can literally hear voices through the walls. When we hear Russian voices, we send drones straight to the house.”

Some civilians have stayed behind amid the heavy fighting, even as it moves from house to house. They tend their gardens, surviving with chickens, well water, and solar panels.

Their fate can be grim. In one case, the soldiers could only watch helplessly on screen as an elderly man was shot by the Russians while driving a small tractor. His neighbors buried him in their garden.