If your actions are well-drilled, there’s high chance of surviving – fighter Oleksii Honcharov
Much more about this fighter’s work from Volyn is told by his comrades than by the man himself. In fact, it’s their stories that helped break through his modesty—if only a little.
Former UAV operator from the 71st Separate Jaeger Brigade, Oleksii Honcharov (call sign Vzhyk), is currently serving with another unit. For security reasons, we are not disclosing the name of his current formation or the nature of the missions he performs—often without a single day off.
Oleksandropil, Sukha Balka, New York, the Avdiivka direction, Robotyne—this is only part of the list of locations where he has defended Ukraine from Russian forces.
THEY ASKED IF ANYONE HAD EXPERIENCE FLYING DRONES. I HAD A TOY DRONE LYING AROUND AT HOME —SO THAT`S HOW I BECAME A UAV OPERATOR."
- My military career started with compulsory service in 2003, which I completed in Lviv. It was a clear echo of the Soviet era: we weren’t taught how to shoot, we just pulled guard duty.
In 2015, I was called up during the mobilization. There was no medical commission at all. I was asked to come in to update my personal data—and once I did, they told me I was heading to war the next day. After a month at the Rivne training ground, I was assigned to the 24th Separate Mechanized Brigade. That’s how I ended up on the Luhansk direction. We didn’t return fire—they fired at us, and we just endured it, because the ceasefire was already in effect.
After the full-scale invasion, my combat path began on March 8, 2022. I had assumed the Russians wouldn’t go any further after holding drills near our borders. Clearly, I was wrong. After the attack, I stayed home for another week. I understood that, sooner or later, I’d be drafted anyway. At the regional military enlistment office in Rivne, they turned me away and told me to report to the office at my place of registration. So I headed to my hometown. There, they took down my details and called me that same evening, telling me to show up at 7 a.m. with my gear. Pretty standard story, really.
- In both 2014 and 2022, you were mobilised, so you do not fall into the category of a volunteer fighter. But in 2022, you did respond to a draft notice, already knowing what war looks like. Was that decision extremely difficult for you?
- Back then, I figured I had to protect my family. I didn’t really have any weapons at home, and in the army they give you one—so I had to go. (laughs)
- How did you end up becoming a UAV operator?
- We were told we were going to form a new brigade and were taken to Kremenchuk. That’s how I joined the 71st Jaeger Brigade.
Within a week, a UAV operator platoon was formed. The way it happened was actually a bit funny. They lined us up, and some guy with shoulder marks showed up and asked who had experience flying drones. Naturally, no one stepped forward—most of the guys were village boys. I had a toy drone lying around at home, and I used to fly it now and then. So I thought: 'It’s a drone, right? I’ve flown one. That counts as experience, doesn’t it?' And I stepped forward. In total, about 30 of us were selected. Two weeks later, we were issued our first drones—basic Mavics. We taught ourselves how to fly them.
- As far as I know, in the first month of forming the platoon, you took on all the organizational work and your comrades even consider that a separate act of heroism. How difficult was it back then?
- I wasn’t exactly eager to be in charge of people. The brigade commander just pointed at me and said I’d be the one in charge. The first few months were tough—handling all the paperwork, logs, registers, reports, travel forms, fuel requests, equipment, weapons, drones, and so on and so forth... But the hardest part was deciding who to send on that first combat mission, out of people you’d just met and already bonded with.
- How would you assess your effectiveness today?
- I started out working with Mavics, then moved on to Autels. Later, I was retrained to operate the Valkyria fixed-wing drone and FPVs. I’ve flown quite a few types. But in most cases, my combat role was reconnaissance, target confirmation, and adjusting artillery or FPV drone strikes. Overall, when you’re doing reconnaissance, any successful outcome has a lot of ‘fathers’.
- Which UAV do you enjoy working with the most?
- Hard to say, each drone has its advantages. Fixed-wing is the most interesting—it flies high and causes less hassle. But you have to do a lot more prep before a flight and really know the route. The UAV flies high and GPS interference is minimal. Mavics were exciting in their own way, the camera is way better. You could spot some orc crawling in a trench and even see what he was doing. And with FPVs, it was fun to fly into burrows where no other drone could reach.
FUNNIEST THING I’VE SEEN WAS A RUSSIAN SOLDIER FENDING OFF A DRONE WITH A 10-KILOGRAM MORTAR ROUND
- You mentioned burrows, so I assume you had the chance to observe the enemy up close. What can you say about their tactics?
- Their tactics now are very different from what they were before. These days, they mostly attack in groups of 12, dropping infantry as close to the positions as possible—and then the vehicles just flee. That’s when our FPVs finish them off. But back at the beginning of the war, when we didn’t have this many drones and couldn’t quickly take out so much hardware, they used to push forward in massive convoys.
- More than once, we’ve seen footage of them riding in motorcycle columns from zero lines.
- Yeah, now they even use motorcycles—just to avoid exposing large vehicles to our fire. I saw it myself: a column of motorcyclists (two orcs per bike) speeding toward the frontline, weaving through the tree line near our positions. Hitting a bike with an FPV is really tough. But our guys still give it their best—I’ve seen footage where our drone hits a Russian motorcycle dead-on.
- Tell us about unforgettable incidents from your "hunts".
- The funniest video I’ve ever seen was of a Russian soldier swinging a 10-kilogram mortar round to fend off a drone. Pretty sure both the round and the guy exploded—our drone hit him pretty hard, and the feed cut off right after.
We’ve also seen orcs going to take a dump, then panicking when they hear our drone buzzing nearby, running off with their pants down.
- What would you say about them as drone operators?
- One time, I was hunted by one of their drones with a munition drop system. I had to hide from it for quite a while. Russians had spotted the position of some of our drone operators flying a more powerful UAV, and they landed their drone nearby and just waited for someone to approach it, so they could drop a munition. It was late evening, already dark. Mud everywhere. I saw something hovering in the air—probably a Mavic with a munition drop system—just waiting. I happened to pass by that position on my way to get water, and the drone spotted me. I only had time to hear the fuse activate overhead, and I instantly dove into a ditch—that's what saved me. After the grenade detonated, I got up fast and ran to hide in the basements, where I waited it out while they kept flying around.
The next thing hunting me down was a guided aerial bomb (GAB). It landed about 30 meters from our dugout, but it didn’t explode.
- I’ve heard a story about another strike—this time during a tank assault. You were the crew commander, and your fellow servicemen say it was your right actions and calm decision-making that saved them. You gave timely orders to take cover and taught them how to check for tripwires. Can you tell us more about that incident?
- That was in the final days of February and the very beginning of March 2023. We were operating in the southern outskirts of New York, and our brigade was assigned to carry out an assault on a village as a diversionary strike. We used drones to mark targets.
Our crew had three people—I was the commander.
So we’re flying over the village, the assault is underway. A friendly crew had just joined us—they were looking for a spot to operate from. My teammate Svit was flying the drone when suddenly, from behind a hill, a Russian tank rolled out and started blasting at us.
Back then, we were still flying manually, and there was a small rooftop nearby we used to climb on to maintain signal. The tank scored a direct hit on a nearby garage. A teammate was standing on the roof, we were on the ground. The garage, right in front of him, just blew apart.
Svit waited out the explosion and jumped down right after. We knew we had 10–15 seconds before the next shot. We all ran into the cellar. The tank kept firing. Svit ran back out—his drone was still in the air but already losing connection. He tried to catch it manually.
Unfortunately, we lost it over enemy territory.
The tank kept hammering us. Back then, Russians weren’t that scared—our FPVs weren’t operational yet. We reported the tank’s exact position and direction, but I realized no one had taken it out. Miraculously, it didn’t hit the house we were hiding in—everything else around it got wrecked.
We decided to bug out—both crews. Back then, we still had vehicles parked right at our position (something we stopped doing later). We jumped in fast and moved about 500 meters uphill. Just as we started driving, the same tank opened fire on us again. One of the rounds tore through a gear bag. Svit started to panic and asked if we should keep moving. I said, "Hell no, we’re staying put." Running out at that moment would’ve been even riskier. So we waited it out. Later, I was the first to step out and launch again. We kept working from that position until evening.
EVERY TIME SOMETHING LANDED CLOSE, WE POKED OUR HEADS OUT OF THE DUGOUT LIKE MEERKATS - JUST TO CHECK IF THE ANTENNA HAD BEEN HIT
- People say UAV operators don’t have the most dangerous job in this war. But there’ve been casualties and injuries among drone teams too. Do you feel the risks?
- We’ve been hit mostly by GABs, mortars, and other artillery. Like it or not, we’d take heavy fire two or three times a day. GABs are the scariest, no doubt.
But I can’t say it ever felt really terrifying—probably adrenaline. Even just retrieving a downed drone and changing its battery is risky enough.
And yeah, every time there was an impact nearby, we poked our heads out from the dugout like meerkats to see where it hit—did it hit our antenna or not?"
Maybe I just haven’t been in a situation where I genuinely feared for my life. But later, looking back at some of my decisions, I’d think: "Damn, I must’ve been nuts to climb out of that trench. What the hell was I thinking?" But in the moment, you’re running on autopilot. And if your actions are well-drilled, there’s a high chance of surviving.
- Good working conditions depend a lot on choosing the right position. But that often becomes an issue, especially due to decisions made by command. Have you faced that?
- A lot really depends on leadership, especially the direct commander who sends troops into a hole he picked himself. Most of the time, the people choosing the hole for UAV crews to operate from have never even been there. They just point at a spot on the map without knowing if our forces are present or if there's any electronic warfare going on in that area. And if there is EW, is it ours or the enemy’s? Because sometimes it’s so bad you can’t even take off.
There are normal officers who first arrive at the site personally with a drone pilot who will fly there and sit there for half a day, assessing the situation. And only then do they decide whether to come with a crew with all the equipment. It all takes time and effort. Plus, you need an officer who is not afraid to go there.
- How did you deal with situations like that?
- We’d arrive at the assigned location and then have to find a launch spot ourselves. There were times when we were literally dropped in the middle of an open field, with no cover at all, and told to start digging in. Obviously, if anything had landed nearby, we’d have been killed instantly.
What can I say. I still remember our very first combat task on the zero line. Our crew—completely green—had just arrived at the permanent duty station after spending nearly the whole night on the road. We were immediately thrown into a serious mission, with no time to get our bearings or assess the terrain. Naturally, the outcome of that first run reflected that.
- Both sides, ours and the Russians, are constantly adapting their drone and EW tactics. How would you assess the current situation?
- Most of the time, it’s actually our own EW that jams us. You start flying, message command: "Stop jamming us, I’m in the air," and they say, "We’re not running any EW here." And then, 20 minutes later, it turns out they are. Overall, there are more EW systems on the front now than before. A year ago, larger EW systems were mainly targeting bigger UAVs. Now there’s a lot more trench-level EW—both on our side and the enemy’s. That’s why fiber-optic control systems used with some drones are what’s saving the day.
I WOULDN`T SAY THAT I FELT STRONG EMOTIONS AFTER THE FIRST HIT. IT WAS LIKE GETTING A TOY - YOU ARE GLAD AND THAT'S IT
- Do you remember how you felt during your first strike?
- For every hit, there might be ten missed flights. You’ve got to make sure you have good antennas and a stable connection—no interference.
I wouldn’t say I felt any strong emotions after the first hit. It was like getting you a toy—you’re glad, and that’s it.
- I’ve often heard that the most intense emotions come from watching footage of destroyed enemy equipment.
- It depends on where exactly the drone hits and what kind of charge it’s carrying. If a shaped charge jet hits the ammo rack, it triggers a full cook-off and you get a turret toss. Some FPV operators are so skilled they can fly the drone straight into a tank’s hatch—that also burns nicely. But if it’s just a fragmentation charge, it might only leave a scratch.
- Overall, are there enough drones on the front line?
- I’m doing different tasks now, but I still keep in touch with my former comrades from the 71st Brigade. From what I hear, they have enough kamikaze and FPV drones. Most of them come from the state, and the rest are supplied by volunteers.
- We talk a lot about FPV. Yet cooperation with artillery remains relevant. What is your experience of such work?
- It all depends on the artilleryman. Some of them have been in the game since 2014—they’ve developed both the eye and the hand for it.
For example, when we worked alongside the adjacent units from 24th Brigade and passed them a target, they could hit it dead-on by the second shot. Our own artillery crew from the brigade, who had just spent a few months at the training range, would need five or six shells to hit—and even then, it wasn’t always accurate.
- What do you think about the idea that artillery will eventually give way to drones in future wars?
- If we’re talking about old-school artillery—the kind they used back in 1945, with no upgrades since—then yes, drones will definitely outperform it. But modern artillery that’s guided by GPS coordinates is extremely accurate. The catch is that it requires special types of ammunition, which are expensive both to produce and maintain.
- Did you make your own munitions for drops, especially for Mavics?
- Some we made ourselves, and some we bought from specialized workshops that work with volunteers. We even used old Soviet RPG-7 rounds. Those were handmade—detonation was triggered when two wires touched as the drone descended onto the target.
There are also specialized detonation boards. So it all depends on the type of munition.
- I don’t need to tell you about the problems that exist within the Ukrainian army or the cases of disrespect shown toward people in uniform. It’s clear that a lot of this is fueled by Russian information operations, often carried out by marginalized segments of society. But still—what’s your view on it?
- I don’t like the way things stand right now, and I’m not happy with the general attitude toward our army. Not much has changed since 2014. We could’ve had an online military service portal a long time ago, so that all personal files in the recruitment offices would exist in digital form.
Instead of plugging gaps with whoever’s available, we should take a smarter approach. If you need to draft someone, you open the database and look for people with the right education and background. In the end, the mobilization process depends entirely on the people managing it at the local level.
- But even transfers between units are still far from simple.
- I transferred through personal contacts, and it still took nine months. And I did it quietly, without making any noise about it.
- Do we have enough people to fill the gaps?
- We do. There are plenty of career military personnel sitting in rear positions. The logistics and support staff are overstaffed and bloated.
They don’t want to leave the rear, while only around 400,000 people—maybe even fewer—are actually fighting on the front lines. That kind of imbalance is demoralizing for those on the zero line. Maybe it’ll change over time. In the end, it all comes down to leadership.
Olha Skorokhod, Censor. NET
