Ukraine | Drone operations in current wars: Deep traces

It was a long road for Yehor Babenko to regain his voice after his wartime deployment. When he speaks now, he whispers. A tube protrudes from his throat below his larynx. This is because Babenko suffered not only external but also complex internal burns. His face is marked, his skin scarred. It's hard to imagine the pain it must have been to heal. His story is one of many people in Ukraine whose lives have been forever changed by the war.

On the night of March 8-9, 2022, the then-border guard was seriously injured during an operation. The young man suffered severe burns to his head, face, and hands. All he remembers from that night is fire. And how difficult it was to breathe. He was in a coma for weeks and lost all ten fingers. He was treated in Barcelona for two years, then returned to Ukraine in October 2024—and to a new role.

He's now found his place here: at the sports and rehabilitation center for veterans "Tytanovi" in Kyiv, which translates as "made of titanium." The large training room is bustling with activity: wounded veterans with prosthetic legs are practicing on the treadmill, parallel bars, or wall bars. He's needed here. He stands amidst a group of men, all of whom are looking at a screen, discussing the treatment of a patient. Babenko is a psychologist here. "I wanted to help," he says.

His knowledge is valuable. He understands his patients' situations better than anyone else. A civilian psychologist couldn't even imagine what these people have gone through – but Babenko could. Yehor Babenko was born in 1998, studied psychology, and after graduating from the military academy, he has served in the Ukrainian Border Guard Service since 2020. He appears calm, almost gentle, but you can sense that he has fought his way back here – and wants to stay.

A place for healing

"Tytanovi" is one of several Ukrainian rehabilitation centers specializing in veterans with amputations. Two cockatiels greet you at the entrance, and the hallways are colorfully decorated—war heroes, flags, and people who have donated have been immortalized here. Medals on the walls tell of patients' achievements, such as triathlons or mountain climbs. Everything screams hope. There are comfortable sofas, various training rooms, and in the kitchen—typically Ukrainian—vegetables ferment in old jam jars.

The camaraderie here is so obvious, so strong, as tough as rubber. Everyone encourages each other to take the first step, to fight, to get healthy. Most of the patients are young men who have to get used to their new living situation. They have a wide variety of illnesses; some are wheelchair-bound for the rest of their lives, while others, with the right prosthetics, face a relatively normal life. Some are depressed, have lost the meaning of life, and drink alcohol to numb their inner and outer pain. Others, however, walk or roll through the corridor in good spirits, stopping briefly to chat with visitors. They smoke outside in the sun with their friends. What resonates with most of them, however, is a longing for the time before the war.

What drones do to people

Ukraine is in its fourth year at war with Russia, and of course, it has left deep scars. Not all injuries occur on the front lines. Russia launches drone attacks almost daily, primarily using Iranian-made Shahed kamikaze drones. These attacks target not only infrastructure and military objectives, but also residential buildings, shopping centers, and schools. Drones are often used against civilian targets, which is considered a terrorist strategy. The drone strikes target morale—and damage the bodies. Explosions take people's lives or render them in need of care. Ukraine is currently experiencing the largest documented use of drones in a modern war. The number of amputees grows daily.

The psychological consequences are enormous: All of this leaves deep scars, most clearly visible on the faces of the people who live here. The constant noise and the resulting threat of drones put many Ukrainians in a state of permanent tension – even at night, they barely get any rest. Restful sleep has been unthinkable for over three years because an attack could threaten at any moment. The fear is omnipresent and has become deeply ingrained in the collective consciousness: Many affected people report sleep disturbances, panic attacks, and a feeling of utter helplessness.

It's often particularly difficult for severely wounded soldiers to find their place in society again after an amputation. Therefore, they receive not only physical but also psychological care in rehabilitation centers. Some even return to the front lines and active service. There are no exact figures on how many return. Presumably, this is because open communication about it could make the extent of the suffering more tangible and thus demoralize the population.

War in pop culture

The visibility of disability in Ukraine is new. And it's even entered pop culture: In the fall of 2024, Oleksandr Budko, a veteran with bilateral below-knee amputations, was the main contestant on the Ukrainian version of "The Bachelor." In this type of dating show, a single man selects a potential partner from a group of female contestants over the course of romantic dates. Former soldier Oleksandr Budko lost his legs when a Russian drone exploded nearby. But that doesn't stop him from doing much: In addition to his appearance as the Bachelor, he's an author and activist, visiting veterans in hospitals.

In his own web show, he travels through Ukrainian cities and tests them for accessibility. "There's still a problem with stigma. I went on 'The Bachelor' to address it." And that's important: education and acceptance must be created among the population, even if it's through entertainment television. The needs of people with disabilities have been largely neglected in Ukraine to date. Amputations are among the most visible and serious war injuries. For Ukraine, one of the central issues is and will remain how the country and society deal with the growing number of people with amputations and other disabilities and shape their new reality.

According to a 2023 joint study by the EU, the Ukrainian government, the World Bank, and the United Nations, approximately 73 percent of air raid shelters in Ukraine are inaccessible to people with mobility difficulties. Even when shelters are not designed to be accessible, people with disabilities are significantly disadvantaged. Wheelchair users and people with reduced mobility face significant barriers to accessing shelters, especially in urban areas like Kyiv.

This lack of accessibility has resulted in many people with disabilities having to remain in their homes during bombing raids because they cannot reach suitable shelters. Or, when the attacks result in a power outage, elevators in residential buildings are shut down. People with mobility disabilities are then unable to get up or down. In such situations, some are forced to hide in the bathroom to protect themselves from attacks.

Psychologist Yehor Babenko also criticizes this: "Cities in Ukraine should be better equipped." He draws a direct comparison with Spain: "There's no war there, and not as many people with disabilities as here. And yet they have everything people with disabilities need to feel comfortable." For example, in Barcelona, ​​one can easily access the subway; there's an elevator at every station. Of the 165 metro stations in Barcelona, ​​153 (about 93 percent) are fully accessible. They have wide entrances and ground-level access. He is impressed by the sidewalks; most sidewalks at pedestrian crossings are lowered. The tactile guidance systems for visually impaired people also work well. "I can't say it's zero in Ukraine, but very little is being done."

And the Ukrainian population?

Viacheslav Zaporozhets, founder and director of "Tytanovi," is angry about the situation. "We have 100,000 wounded veterans, and society isn't accepting enough." The number is based on estimates from the Ministry of Health. "These people have complex injuries, are suffering great pain, and their families have been destroyed."

This addresses an even bigger problem: What happens to people when they are discharged from hospitals and rehabilitation centers and have to find a new everyday life? How does reintegration into society work?

"If we don't start taking care of these people—by creating jobs, talking to them about their mental health, and showing them respect—then they will start to rebel," warns Zaporozhets. "There will be uprisings by veterans who have nothing to lose. And these people know where to get weapons, how to make them, and how to use them."

As an example of the lack of respect, Zaporozhets draws a comparison with the way veterans are treated in the United States. This involves not just everyday gestures, but also symbolic recognition: Often, there are reserved seats of honor for veterans on airplanes, in stadiums, or at events. "Unfortunately, that doesn't exist here," he laments. "Our veterans sit in wheelchairs somewhere in the aisles."

Resistance through visibility

To raise awareness, Zaporozhets had an idea: a café for veterans. It opened in December 2024 in a shopping mall, none other than the largest. Respublika Park Mall is one of the largest shopping and leisure centers in Ukraine and among the largest in Europe. It can be compared to an Eastern European version of Disneyland. In addition to the shops and lavish decorations, a roller coaster runs on bright yellow tracks through the center of the mall. There's a (small) Ferris wheel, tall plants, and a kind of water park.

Veteran Fedir Samborskyi runs Café Tytanovi: "The motivation for the café was the realization that we need to create an inclusive space to draw society's attention to our challenges. Because no one understands our needs and abilities better than we do." Military personnel and veterans receive free coffee here. Fundraising is also being done for the rehabilitation center. His philosophy is simple: Veterans become visible when they stop being silent, when their inner strength emerges.

Fedir Samborskyi, Yehor Babenko, and Oleksandr Budko are among those who have been scarred by the war. They are trying to make visible the damage the war has caused – and are calling on society to recognize their changed appearance as a new reality.

This report was supported by the "Women on the Ground: Reporting from Ukraine's Unseen Frontlines" initiative of the International Women's Media Foundation in partnership with the Howard G. Buffett Foundation.