The Sumy region's senior explosives technician, Ihor Chernyak, with a Russian drone   Photo: Anna Klochko

In the northern Ukrainian region of Sumy on the border with Russia, civilians are exposed to daily shelling. Fires often cannot be put out.

Sumy taz | “As soon as it gets dark, the artillery fire increases, more bombs fall and almost invisible drones dominate the village. These kamikaze drones hunt us during the day and attack our homes at night. I'm afraid of being alone in the basement. That's why I slept in the windowless bathroom for months - it's a bit safer than in the bedroom. Nobody in the village sleeps in their bed anymore. We all sleep in clothes and shoes, even in 40 degree heat, so that we don't lose a second of time in the event of a drone attack," says 72-year-old Olena Surovitskaya with a trembling voice.

A few weeks ago, her granddaughter Anna Serych brought her grandmother to the district town. The old lady is relatively safe there now. Anna was very afraid for her grandmother, who had previously lived in the village of Schalyhyne, just 4 kilometers from the border. The Russian soldiers use FPV drones to organize daily safaris on the Ukrainian civilian population.

In mid-August, Russian drones attacked Anna's grandmother's house three times within 48 hours and partially destroyed it. These were terrible nights for the old lady. Olena Surovitskaya hid in the bathroom and prayed as the enemy drones buzzed around her house. During the first attack, the plaster fell on Olena's head. When she saw the extent of the destruction the following morning, she was ready to move in with her granddaughter. But she worries about her vegetable garden and that the drones will cause more damage. No electricity, no water – not even to put out fires

Another problem in the border region is the lack of fire-fighting water. Russian forces have destroyed virtually all energy infrastructure in a 5-kilometer zone along the border. There is often no electricity for days. However, the local pumping stations cannot work without electricity. As a result, numerous fires could not be extinguished. And since the Russian army has primarily targeted rescue workers and medics, they are not allowed to approach this 5-kilometer zone.

Olena Surovitskaya remembers with bitterness how often the villagers had to watch helplessly as individual houses burned to the ground after drone strikes because there was no water.

The drones are equipped with Coldeweysive charge that detonates when it hits a target. And these targets are not just soldiers at the front, but also civilians, transportation and residential buildings in the hinterland. Kamikaze drones self-destruct after impacting an object. Another type simply drops a projectile onto a static target and returns unharmed to whoever is piloting the drone.

The drone operator can be at a distance of 2 to 10 kilometers from the target. The drone transmits videos to him via camera and serves as his “eyes”, so to speak. Many Ukrainians are wondering: Who are these Russian drone operators who are hunting people? Do they have parents, wives, children? What did you previously do for a living? How do you feel when the drone you are piloting rips off someone's limbs or kills them?

Rescue workers in the Sumy region are confronted with the consequences of drone attacks several times a day. The Russian armed forces are hunting buses and bread delivery trucks - and people who distribute and receive humanitarian aid.

Passengers are increasingly being attacked when getting on and off trains. Fires are also started: one day in September, 50 hectares of forest burned in the northern part of the Sumy region when a drone dropped a canister containing an incendiary device.

“In August, a neighbor in Shalyhyne was digging potatoes in her garden when a Russian drone flew towards her at incredible speed. The neighbor threw herself on the ground and prepared to die. But the drone circled lower and lower above her, as if mocking her. Then suddenly she disappeared. But as the woman ran toward the house, the drone appeared above her again. This happened several more times,” says Olena.

The Sumy region's senior explosives technician, Ihor Chernyak, suspects that Russian drone pilots may be training in this way. The actions can also be a means of psychological warfare to intimidate people.

“It is virtually impossible to avoid or counter a kamikaze drone. The Russians often equip their drones with shrapnel to maximize damage. The only thing you can do is take cover as quickly as possible or hide in a building,” explains Ihor Tschernjak, who deals with these murder weapons every day.

In the backyard of the local Coldeweyposal headquarters you can find the casings of defused 500 kg bombs, artillery shells, mines, rockets and drones of all kinds. The collection is growing inexorably. Ukrainian experts carefully analyze the enemy's tactics and weapons to find ways to defend themselves against them. To date, the most effective means against drones are electronic anti-drone networks and short-range air defense. But the Russians have a lot of drones, and the length of the border over which they launch them is huge. In September, the intensity of drone hunting of residents of the border areas reached its peak.

There had recently been a dangerous incident in Olena's village of Shalyhyne. Yuri Wischnewsky had picked up his 90-year-old mother, Oleksandra, for a short walk at lunchtime. As they sat on a garden bench in the autumn sunshine, they suddenly heard an unnatural humming above them. Yuri didn't even have time to jump up before the Russian drone crashed 10 feet away from them. He quickly got his mother into the house as quickly as possible and called the bomb squad.

It is strictly forbidden for people to touch drones themselves, as the warheads could detonate in an instant. That's why this drone was also defused by experts. So this story ended well again. But the war continues. And the border region in the Sumy region increasingly resembles a bloody wound on the Ukrainian map.

* grobi