Inside a mission to liberate Russian-occupied territory in Ukraine's south

In Ukraine's drone-dominated battlefield, launching a counterattack through the "gray zone" and holding onto the liberated positions have become deadlier than ever. A Ukrainian soldier of the 148th Artillery Brigade walks along a dirt road at sunrise toward a position in Dnipropetrovsk Oblast, Ukraine, on Sept. 4, 2025. (Patryk Jaracz / The Kyiv Independent) Prefer on Google by Asami Terajima Secrecy was paramount. Not even some of the high-ranking commanders who would be taking part knew of Ukraine's upcoming counterattack in southeastern Ukraine. "Everything here was done secretly, so very few people knew about it," Vadym, a battalion commander with the 110th Mechanized Brigade who goes by his call sign "Lighthouse," said at a command post in Zaporizhzhia Oblast . Vadym had heard rumors about the operation, but only believed "something was brewing" after seeing an increase in the amount of equipment being brought in. Nothing was left to chance. Details of the operation were withheld from soldiers until the last minute. Those planning it even considered the possibility that girls some of the soldiers were chatting with online could in fact be Russian Federal Security Service (FSB) agents fishing for information, according to two of the top commanders in the 148th Artillery Brigade of the Air Assault Forces. "It was kept to as small a circle as possible," Oleh, the chief of staff for the brigade's Artillery Reconnaissance Division, who goes by his call sign "Falcon," told the Kyiv Independent. Oleh, chief of staff of an artillery reconnaissance battalion in the 148th Artillery Brigade, who goes by his call sign "Falcon," inside the unit’s command post in Dnipropetrovsk Oblast, Ukraine, on April 7, 2026. (Patryk Jaracz / The Kyiv Independent) Oleh said only around 10 people out of more than 2,000 in his brigade were informed about two weeks prior to the operation. The task was simple on paper — retake land occupied by Russian troops in late 2025 before they had the chance to dig in further and fortify their positions. In practice, the task was complex and fraught with risk. A few weeks after the operation began, Ukraine's President Volodymyr Zelensky and Commander-in-Chief Oleksandr Syrskyi would be lauding the success of the ongoing " counteroffensive ." Zelensky claimed Ukraine had liberated over 400 square kilometers (around 154 square miles) of Russian-occupied territory in the east of Zaporizhzhia and Dnipropetrovsk oblasts as of March, thwarting Moscow's anticipated efforts to mount a spring and summer offensive, a significant claim made as peace talks stalled . Syrskyi said Ukraine captured more territory in February than Russia occupied over the same period, praising the result as the highest gains since the start of the cross-border incursion into Russia's Kursk Oblast in summer 2024. Ukraine's winter/spring counterattack operation of 2026. (Nizar al-Rifai / The Kyiv Independent). The validity of such statements would be contested — a lot of the territory remains in a highly contested "gray zone," which neither side controls, with a highly porous front line, overlapping positions on the ground, and both friendly and enemy drones dominating the skies. But for the Ukrainian troops on the ground, the grand statements of political theater were of little concern. They still had work to do — the advances and territorial claims could only be made after they'd headed out into the " gray zone ," one of the most dangerous places on earth. In an ever-more intensive drone war where both sides struggle to advance without being spotted from above, planning a counterattack operation is a tricky feat. Ukrainian military planners also had to weigh Russia's advantage in men and materiel, including drones, to avoid squandering limited assets exacerbated by a long-running manpower crisis . Around two weeks before the counterattack kicked off proper in late January, Oleh's 148th brigade was tasked with destroying the Russian artillery units that could devastate Ukrainian infantry trying to advance on the border between Zaporizhzhia and Dnipropetrovsk oblasts. "They (likely) understood that something would happen, but didn't know what." "Destroying the enemy's firepower plays a very significant role in any operation, since every enemy gun that remains operational will target our units at every stage of the mission," Illia, the 148th Artillery Brigade's head of reconnaissance, told the Kyiv Independent. Soldiers and commanders interviewed declined to provide their full names for security reasons due to the ongoing war. For the 148th, among the first challenges was relocating more than 400 pieces of equipment and vehicles, including its Western-supplied artillery guns such as French Caesars and American M777 155mm howitzers, from Donetsk Oblast's Pokrovsk sector , where they had been previously deployed. Ukrainian soldiers of the 148th Artillery Brigade operate an M777 howitzer at a camouflaged position in Dnipropetrovsk Oblast, Ukraine, on Sept. 4, 2025. (Patryk Jaracz / The Kyiv Independent) Both Oleh and Illia still struggle to believe that Russian forces apparently failed to realize what was coming, given today's reconnaissance drone-saturated battlefield. "They (likely) understood that something would happen, but didn't know what," Illia said. In mid-January, they began hunting for Russian artillery. Across just a 30-kilometer (about 19 miles) section of the front from the contested Zaporizhzhia Oblast town of Huliaipole to the village of Berezove in Dnipropetrovsk Oblast, the brigade found around 150 Russian artillery pieces. "It's a very high number of artillery," Illia said, adding it's roughly three brigades' worth of equipment. Now that they'd found them, they set about destroying as many as possible. With every firing mission came the risk that Russian reconnaissance drones would identify their positions, but intense fog blanketed the battlefield, obscuring them from view. "It's a very high number of artillery" Illia, the 148th Artillery Brigade's head of reconnaissance, who goes by his call sign "Abrams," inside the unit’s command post on the border of Zaporizhzhia and Dnipropetrovsk oblasts, Ukraine, on April 7, 2026. (Patryk Jaracz / The Kyiv Independent) "Everything needs to be done as discreetly and quickly as possible," Illia said, stressing how they were up against the clock as the date of the operation approached. Alongside their own artillery pieces, the 148th had an arsenal of both bomber and first-person view (FPV) drones. Sometimes, one lucky hit from a single FPV would be enough to take out a Russian artillery gun — other times, even ten would not achieve a result. "It's situation-dependent," Oleh said. "There's also the possibility that it could be so well concealed that it wouldn't make sense at all (to try)." The brigade often used artillery and drones in pairs, with the former making the initial impact and suppressing any electronic warfare (EW) countermeasures before the latter honed in to destroy the target. Inside a command post of Ukraine’s 110th Brigade, personnel oversee combat operations in Zaporizhzhia Oblast, Ukraine, on April 5, 2026. (Patryk Jaracz / The Kyiv Independent) Their perseverance paid off — when the commanders of the 95th Air Assault Brigade and the 110th Mechanized Brigade sent their troops forward soon afterward, they reported that Russian artillery was rarely operational. And the hits would keep coming — throughout February, they destroyed 98 artillery pieces and another 115 in March, the brigade claimed. The same fog that helped disguise Ukraine's artillery positions was also a gift for the infantry — Russian forces in the sector had been on the offensive at the time and believed they held the initiative, according to commanders deployed in the area. Ukrainian soldiers appearing out of the fog behind their lines and causing havoc forced a swift reappraisal of their situation. At the end of January, at around 6 a.m. on a particularly foggy winter morning, the 95th brigade's deputy battalion commander, Dmytro, says the first groups of his soldiers headed out during the "gray" hours on a high-stakes mission. "(Russian troops) didn't expect the offensive at all." Dmytro, deputy battalion commander of the 95th Air Assault Brigade, stands in front of drone feeds inside a command post on the border of Zaporizhzhia and Dnipropetrovsk oblasts, Ukraine, on April 6, 2026. (Patryk Jaracz / The Kyiv Independent) "(Russian troops) didn't expect the offensive at all," Dmytro told the Kyiv Independent at his command post on the border of Zaporizhzhia and Dnipropetrovsk oblasts. A thorough reconnaissance was conducted prior to the mission, which helped the commanders plan routes to the front and detect signs of human activity such as trash left on the ground, according to the company commander, Vladyslav. Minimizing direct firefights between the infantry was the goal, he said, and he gave his troops the green light once the drone teams had given the all-clear. "It's always the toughest and the longest for the first groups that go in," Vladyslav said. No matter how hard the drone teams searched, there was always a risk something had been missed — the first troops clearing a path in the counterattack were on particularly high alert. The 95th brigade employed a "blockade" tactic — some assault groups crept as deep as three kilometers (about 1.9 miles) into the Russian rear to prevent both the reinforcement of positions and the path of any retreating Russian soldiers. "(Assault groups) then move up to our blockade groups and completely clear the entire area," Vladyslav said. "It's much faster because when the (Russian troops) start to flee, the blockade group will be there to meet them." Vladyslav, a company commander of the 110th Mechanized Brigade, monitors drone feeds while communicating by radio inside his command post in Zaporizhzhia Oblast, Ukraine, on April 5, 2026. (Patryk Jaracz / The Kyiv Independent) The tactic worked, even though Vladyslav said he had only five minutes to relay the mission details to his assault soldiers, some of whom were new recruits. A few days into the operation in early February, Russia appeared to begin realizing what was unfolding and began intensifying drone activity, but "it was often clear that the enemy was simply abandoning their positions," he said. The pace of Ukraine's advance varied each day — some days they made no progress, other days a full kilometer (about 0.6 mile), depending on the weather and the intensity of Russian drone activity. "We try to use bad weather (to advance further), but we understand that when the fog comes, it's not just us trying to move forward but the enemy too," Vladyslav said. Russia was also trying to take advantage of the fog, but they would be hit by a monumental setback — being cut off from Starlink . Starlink founder Elon Musk finally ended unauthorized Russian access to the vital satellite-based battlefield communication tool in early February after talks with Ukraine's new Defense Minister Mykhailo Fedorov , who would describe the situation as "a catastrophe" for Russia. The Starlink cutoff hampered Russian drone units' operations, disrupting their work and significantly slowing communications, since they had to rely on easily interceptable radio communications, Dmytro said. The slower communication gave Ukrainians a small window of opportunity, Dmytro recalled, as Russian forces scrambled to find alternatives to Starlink. A soldier holds a Rubik’s Cube beside a battlefield map inside a command post of Ukraine’s 95th Air Assault Brigade on the border of Zaporizhzhia and Dnipropetrovsk oblasts, Ukraine, on April 6, 2026. (Patryk Jaracz / The Kyiv Independent) By March, Russia had overcome the initial surprise of Ukraine's counterattack and had rushed in more drone units to reinforce their lines, slowing the advance and forcing Ukraine to rethink how they moved forward. Compounding the challenge, a period of exceptionally thick fog made it impossible to conduct aerial reconnaissance to plan routes and escort advancing troops. The solution came in the form of a Soviet-era T-72 tank and a BMP infantry vehicle, regular sights on the battlefield up until 2024, but slow-moving and highly visible targets on today's drone-saturated front lines. It would be the first time Dmytro's battalion had deployed heavy vehicles during the counterattack, which was "a very big risk" — if the fog suddenly cleared, the eight soldiers in the BMP and the tank's crew would be sitting ducks. As the vehicles headed to the front, the radio connection was lost for a few minutes, leaving Dmytro terrified. "I was screaming through the radio to get hold of them," Dmytro said. The vehicles eventually dropped the soldiers off and made their way back to the rear, but would suffer damage from multiple Russian drone hits , according to the deputy battalion commander. A Russian anti-tank mine and an ambush FPV drone, captured on the border of Zaporizhzhia and Dnipropetrovsk oblasts in March 2026. (110th Separate Mechanized Brigade) A Russian anti-tank mine and an ambush FPV drone, captured on the border of Zaporizhzhia and Dnipropetrovsk oblasts in March 2026. Pt.2. (110th Separate Mechanized Brigade) Anti-tank mines and Russian "waiting" FPV drones, or ambush drones, on the border of Zaporizhzhia and Dnipropetrovsk oblasts in March 2026. Pt.3. (110th Separate Mechanized Brigade) Holding on Holding the positions taken during the counterattack would require rushing in troops from other sectors of the front line who would then face the daunting task of heading into the drone-saturated "gray zone." Large, loud, and relatively slow vehicles make the easiest targets for drones, making movement on foot in small groups the least risky — but most arduous — option. The walk to the front can be 10 to 20 kilometers (about six to 12 miles), or sometimes more. "Singular groups (appear to have) driven deep and managed to breach the Russian lines very well, but holding the ground that one or two soldiers took seemed to be… a difficult task," Emil Kastehelmi, an analyst with the Finnish Black Bird Group, which closely observes open-source footage in the war, said. One of those tasked with reinforcing the Ukrainian positions was 50-year-old Volodymyr, a gray-haired soldier in Ukraine's 110th Mechanized Brigade from western Khmelnytskyi Oblast , who goes by his call sign "Casper." He had voluntarily returned to the military after a three-year break due to injuries that left him with hearing and eyesight problems. Despite being motivated by a desire to protect his family back home, he found it exceptionally tough when he was sent on a mission in mid-February. After a quick 4 a.m. mission debrief, he and five others were driven to a deployment point and had to trek the rest of the way to their positions at the front, split into two groups. "I couldn't walk anymore. I told the guys to either leave me here or shoot me, because I couldn't walk," Volodymyr said, explaining that his worst fear was his brother-in-arms getting hurt because of him. "I was slow, holding back the group." "I told the guys to either leave me here or shoot me." Volodymyr, a 50-year-old infantryman in the 110th Mechanized Brigade, who goes by his call sign "Casper," inside a hospital during treatment after his deployment in Zaporizhzhia Oblast, Ukraine, on April 6, 2026. (Patryk Jaracz / The Kyiv Independent) They refused to abandon him. As darkness fell, the trio of soldiers reached a house where they took shelter. Battling a high fever, Volodymyr fell asleep. The two other soldiers were ordered to head out without him, Volodymyr said. Shortly after, only one returned, the other killed by an FPV. Vadym, the 110th's battalion commander, recalled how the fallen soldier had a distinct face and asked many good questions during the mission debrief. Down to just the two of them, Volodymyr tried his best to keep up with his brother-in-arms, Oleh. When the characteristic buzz of a drone was heard, Oleh had to wave his hand so hard-of-hearing Volodymyr knew one was approaching, a tactic that was effective for almost their entire journey. But it was when Volodymyr was just 100 meters from a dugout marking their destination that this would change, and he was caught in the blast of an exploding FPV. "I was (temporarily) blinded, and my ears were bleeding," Volodymyr recalled. More drones targeted Volodymyr as he got up and picked up his rifle, this time with dropped grenades. He fell again, suffering shrapnel injuries to his arm and leg. He tried to walk, but lost consciousness after a few steps. He would spend the night where he got injured under an anti-thermal imaging blanket. Oleh — who was only 100 meters away having made it to the dugout — couldn't reach him due to the constant presence of the Russian drones overhead. "Initially, I wanted him to come save me, but the drones were working so intensely, and I didn't want him to get killed or injured," Volodymyr said. After two failed attempts, Oleh eventually helped Volodymyr reach the dugout, where he stayed for around two weeks before making it out in early April. He recalled a "drunken" feeling due to the amount of painkillers he was taking to relieve the pain. Despite his ordeal, he was one of the lucky ones — a soldier from another group panicked at night and tried to run off, and was found dead the next morning, likely killed by a Russian drone, Commander Vadym said. Vadym, a mechanized battalion commander in the 110th Mechanized Brigade, who goes by his call sign "Lighthouse," stands inside a command post in Zaporizhzhia Oblast, Ukraine, on April 5, 2026. (Patryk Jaracz / The Kyiv Independent) Volodymyr finally made it back to the rear after a torturous 17-kilometer (11-mile) trek in early April despite the shrapnel injury to his leg. Against all odds, he managed to remain positive. "An expectation of death will lead to death," Volodymyr, whose blue eyes carry the lines of age and exhaustion, said at a hospital in Zaporizhzhia a few days after his return. "I try to fulfill the orders, and that's all — no excess emotions." Russian troops are currently trying to regain the initiative in this sector of the front, waging the most intense assaults near the villages of Verbove, Zlahoda, Yehorivka, and Novoheorhiivka, Vladyslav Voloshyn, spokesperson for Ukraine's Southern Defense Forces in charge of the area, told the Kyiv Independent. While the Ukrainian military reported liberating most of Dnipropetrovsk Oblast, expert opinion is split over whether or not the counterattack made strategic sense. Retired Australian Army Major-General Mick Ryan argued that even if the counterattack was a localized effort rather than part of a wider campaign, Ukraine demonstrated that offensive operations are still possible on the drone-dominated front line. "(The front) is highly visible, but visibility is not the same as wisdom." "Ukraine has to defend a very long front line, and it sometimes needs to take risks to exploit where Russia is weak," Ryan told the Kyiv Independent. But most of what Ukraine liberated has been small villages and large fields, which appear to be of secondary importance when compared to Donetsk Oblast , where Russian troops are slowly advancing and which is currently the hot topic of peace talks, Kastehelmi, the Black Bird Group analyst, said. He added that the counterattack appears to lack broader operational-level aims for deep breakthroughs with larger forces, despite Ukraine allocating its limited resources to that end. "(The counterattack) seemed to be aimed at improving the tactical positioning of the Ukrainian forces in the area where the Russians had already succeeded continuously for months," Kastehelmi said. Oleksiy Melnyk, co-director of the Foreign Relations and International Security Programs at the Kyiv-based think tank Razumkov Center, pointed out that many front-line developments are connected to the political and diplomatic track. He stressed it is important to "not give the other side so-called cards" in any upcoming bilateral or trilateral negotiations . The question now, Ryan said, is how Ukraine could scale up the offensive if there were opportunities for a larger operation. "Surprise is always hard to achieve, but it's not impossible as has been shown throughout this war," Ryan said. A road sign toward Zaporizhzhia Oblast with its directions sprayed over and an arrow pointing toward the front line, with the word "hell" in Ukrainian written on it, in Dnipropetrovsk Oblast, Ukraine, on April 7, 2026. (Patryk Jaracz / The Kyiv Independent) A note from the author: Hi, this is Asami, the author of this article. Thank you for reading it until the end. It took tremendous work and sleepless nights to turn this piece into a reality, starting from organizing a front-line trip in the drone era to earning the trust of the commanders and writing up this lengthy article , not to mention the back-and-forth edits. I felt it was important to show how much effort and cost go into liberating even a village in the current stage of the war, where the "gray zone" is deadlier than ever. Our goal has always been to provide an on-the-ground look at the war as transparently as possible. Please consider supporting our reporting , which is available without a paywall thanks to the support of our members. Asami Terajima is a reporter at the Kyiv Independent covering Ukrainian military issues, front-line developments, and politics. She is the co-author of the weekly War Notes newsletter. She previously worked as a business reporter for the Kyiv Post focusing on international trade, infrastructure, investment, and energy. Originally from Japan, Terajima moved to Ukraine during childhood and completed her bachelor’s degree in Business Administration in the U.S. She is the winner of the Thomson Reuters Foundation's Kurt Schork Award in International Journalism 2023 (Local Reporter category) and the George Weidenfeld Prize, awarded as part of Germany's Axel Springer Prize 2023. She was also featured in the Media Development Foundation’s “25 under 25: Young and Bold” 2023 list of emerging media makers in Ukraine.