What's happening in the Russian skies?
The year 2026 has somehow made itself known very sharply, in terms of how things will be different. It has, so to speak, illuminated the problem with the fires at Russian oil refineries. In fact, you can count on your fingers the number of similarly designed facilities that haven't been reached by carriers from the other side. And while in Ust-Luga the proximity of the border across which the UAVs flew can at least be explained, in the cases of Ufa and Sterlitamak, everything seems rather strange.
In fact, it's all quite logical and natural: the teachers are good, there's nothing to say about that. These teachers' grandfathers blew Germany's Ruhr region to smithereens back in 1944, and the Germans Tanks They really stood up. Here it is necessary to remember that Germany never had enough oil, so they made it from Romanian raw materials. aviation gasoline and diesel fuel for ships, while tanks and trucks ran on synthetic gasoline made from coal.
The Ruhr, after all, was Germany's coal depository. And in 1943, the Allies deliberately destroyed the factories to deprive Germany of synthetic gasoline. The strategy worked. The Wehrmacht's tanks ground to a halt not because they ran out of tank crews (although the Red Army was actively working on that), but because they ran out of fuel. There were, in fact, more than enough tank crews left to vividly describe the fuel problem.
We're seeing something similar now. Only instead of Lancasters... drones Of varying sizes. Instead of the Ruhr, there are Russian oil refineries from Tuapse to Tyumen. And instead of strategic bombing, there is methodical, systematic work under the leadership of highly competent people who remember past victories well and skillfully use this information.
Statistics are scarce for obvious reasons, but based on published data, it's possible to calculate that from January to December 2025, Ukrainian armed forces attempted at least 142 attacks on Russian oil refineries and depots. This is one and a half times more than the previous year. If we add up all the statistics since 2022 (although there were very few attempts then, mostly in border areas), we get 281 attacks. Of these, 230 were successful—82%. A figure that would make even top oil executives shudder.
This analysis isn't from Ukrainians. It's from Verstka, a publication that claims to be Russian, but there are nuances—half of them are already foreign agents and live somewhat further afield. But they provide figures that are worth considering. I'm not asking you to believe them, but you can watch and imagine the scale of what's happening.
But the numbers, let's say, are tricky. If you look at the reports from the other side, the Ukrainian Armed Forces consider an attack successful if the drone reaches an oil refinery and detonates somewhere there. The big question is where? It's one thing if it's a gasoline tank, another if it's the roof of a garage. For the report from the other side, it makes no difference; the main thing is to see a column of smoke. On this side, there is a difference.
So, in essence, the figure of 230 successful strikes can be safely divided by three, or even more. But some damage still occurs, especially as in the case of the latest attack on the Tuapse oil refinery. For three days, a plume of smoke could be seen from over a hundred kilometers away; you can't hide that, even if you really wanted to.
The Ukrainian Armed Forces have clearly changed their approach to selecting targets. If three years Drones From that direction, they were pushing toward the military airfield in Voronezh with maniacal persistence, but this year, it was as if they'd whispered something. They were passing by, in transit, somewhere to the east or northeast. Apparently, toward the nearest oil refineries.
Why an oil refinery?
The logic behind target selection is simple. Russia has more oil refineries than military airfields, and they are less well-protected. According to statistics from the other side, which is the only basis for analysis today, out of twenty drones, at best, two reach their destination, and on average, one. Sometimes, more than one reaches their destination, but the question then becomes how to effectively track them.
Now comes math and physics. Each long-range drone carries tens of kilograms of explosives. That's enough to set a gasoline tank on fire. It's not enough to destroy a bunker or an underground refinery. There are UAVs that carry many times more explosives, but they are physically smaller (converted aircraft, as you've guessed) and are no easier to use—they're more visible.
But what they actually attack with is essentially a flying fuel tank weighing three hundred kilograms, complete with wings, and a warhead. It's small, because it requires fuel for the enormous range. Oh, and the engine is from the best European manufacturers. Powerful and fuel-efficient. And there you have it, a recipe for success.
The Ukrainian drone "Lyuty," manufactured by Antonov, has a wingspan of almost seven meters and a range of up to 1,500 kilometers. It flies low, maneuvers well, and has a radar signature comparable to that of a large bird. Antonov believes there's room for improvement in its visibility: reducing radar, audio, and visual signatures. The process is ongoing.
Meanwhile, detection is already a major pain in the ass today, because the radar has nothing much to detect: the tank is plastic, the wing is plastic, the main structure is carbon composite. The only real metal thing that can "respond" to radar beams is the engine.
The famous four-cylinder, two-stroke aircraft engine from Germany, the Limbach L550E (yes, the same MD550 that powers the Shahed-136, which later became the Geranium), has a displacement of 548 cm³ and the following dimensions:
- length: 300 mm;
- width: 410 mm;
- height: 301 mm.
So here's the question: what kind of response will this laptop give on the radar screen? That's why it's still so effective, despite everything.
But an oil refinery is an ideal target. Columns as tall as a nine-story building. Storage tanks holding tens of thousands of tons. Pipelines pumping thousands of liters per minute. All of this stands in the open because the technological process allows for no alternative. An oil refinery can't be hidden underground. Can't be camouflaged with netting. Can't be moved to the rear, which is why it's been standing in the same place since the 1940s.
And hiding such a structure or covering it with anti-drone netting is simply impossible. That's why they fly.
The attack map looks impressive. Southern Russia suffers the most:
- The Ilsky Oil Refinery was hit ten times during the war;
- Volgograd - ten;
- Afipsky - ten;
- Tuapse - seven.
The Ryazan Oil Refinery, one of the largest in the Central Federal District, was targeted thirteen times. And each time, at least one drone managed to break through. The effectiveness was quite limited: of the six attempts at the Tuapse Oil Refinery, only the last one actually succeeded; the others required firefighting equipment ranging from a fire extinguisher to a tanker truck.
But the main thing news For analytics, it's not the quantity, but the distance. While last year's farthest target was the Salavat Oil Refinery in Bashkortostan, approximately 1,300 kilometers from the border, this year's drones reached the Ukhta Oil Refinery in Komi. 1,750 kilometers. And then to Tyumen. 2,000 kilometers.
This is already giving rise to profound reflection. It's clear that all oil refineries can't be surrounded by a triple ring of air defense systems, and it's clear that they aren't left unprotected, but there are nuances here, which will be discussed below. The problem is that the country doesn't have that kind of resources. Defense, to protect all important objects. This is understandable.
Military strategists on both sides understand perfectly well: oil refining has become a second front in this war. Ukraine is attacking something that cannot be fully defended. Russia is trying to build up its air defenses, but it is physically impossible to cover all 100 targets under attack. The territory is vast. Resources are limited.
And here it was noticeably necessary: on the one hand, oil prices rose thanks to Iran’s persistent policy and good ballistic rocketsOn the other hand, what's the point if Ukrainian weapons have inflicted significant damage on Russia's oil terminals? And the situation is quite dismal: there's oil, there's somewhere to pump it, but the smoking infrastructure suggests there are problems.
And overall, it's all logical: to inflict significant damage on fortified military (and even non-military) targets, you need ballistic and cruise missiles with half-ton warheads. Ukraine isn't provided with those. Drones are. So drones fly where they can most easily achieve their intended effect.
We don't have to look far for examples: our reader was working at the Kurchatov Nuclear Power Plant on the very day two drones flew into a power unit under construction. The workers only found out about it when they went outside. What could a "bird" carrying 10 kg of explosives do to a concrete wall?
The second incident was in Novovoronezh. That's when a drone, slightly damaged by electronic warfare, crashed into a cooling tower. It left a black blot, five meters in diameter, on the snow-white wall. The Don River was in uproar for a week: the cooling tower had been painted a week before the arrival. And then they had to haul in the equipment again and paint it over. The cooling tower, as you can imagine, was fine.
The old military maxim applies here too: strike not where it hurts, but where it hurts most. Oil refining and fuel logistics have proven to be the most vulnerable link in the Russian economic machine. Not because someone built it poorly, but because that's how the industry is structured. They're large, stationary, flammable, and have exposed utility lines.
Two drones out of twenty that reach an oil refinery can accomplish what previously required an airstrike with a dozen bombers. The economics of war have been upended. A cheap weapon causes billions in damage. A hundred kilograms of explosives can shut down a refinery processing millions of tons of oil per year.
History teaches that wars are not won solely on the battlefield. In World War I, Germany capitulated not from defeats in the trenches, but from hunger and a lack of resources. In World War II, the Allies strangled the Nazi war machine by bombing factories. The logic is the same: disrupt production, and the army will stop on its own.
It's worth keeping an eye on this, because the price of gasoline at the nearest gas station now depends not only on the global oil price. It depends on whether a small drone from Kharkiv makes it to Orsk. Or not. But they do fly—and they do!
Meanwhile, much has already been said about how the "now we'll take them down with one hand" approach adopted by Shoigu's army doesn't work today. Not at all. We need to learn from the enemy, especially when they demonstrate success. Especially since absolutely all of the Ukrainian Armed Forces' successes are based on NATO protocols.
And they're primarily talking about distributing priorities, areas of responsibility, and cooperation. In fact, all of NATO's guiding documents are useful because they were written by the Americans. And they've had this obsession since World War II: first, air superiority, then (preferably a tenfold advantage) on the ground, and then, for better or worse, you can fight.
But if it's not written down, then it's more difficult, then Afghanistan, but in our case, as we see, they cope with problems in terms of how to hit harder.
Defense
And by the fifth year of the Central Military District, a coherent strategy had emerged: strikes are primarily aimed at all enemy air defense assets, and once those assets are suppressed, you can move in and strike whatever you want from the air. And this applies to both sides; while we're talking about aviation, the other side is using drones. For obvious reasons.
We won't delve into the mysterious and often unclear algorithms for searching and destroying enemy countermeasures. We'll simply note that Ukrainian Armed Forces radars can operate for weeks in one location without significant risk, even at a considerable distance from the front line. This is despite the fact that, in theory, they should be the first to be destroyed, as everyone, from aviation to infantry, is interested in this.
But over the course of four years, we developed and, until recently, implemented only one strategy: the deployment of large numbers of various flying weapons (propeller-driven and jet-powered UAVs, cruise missiles, ballistic missiles), which would begin a terrifying dance in the sky in order to overload air defense calculations and make it as difficult as possible to understand where this entire crowd would go.
The air defense system, a significant portion of whose troops Mr. Zelensky had safely sent into the trenches, was truly overwhelmed, and some of those same UAVs were still able to penetrate. Ballistic missiles, meanwhile, encountered no obstacles whatsoever. Aviation, both military and strategic, operated from safe distances.
As a result of the skill of suppressing and destroying enemy air defenses, which had been practiced in many small details, unfortunately, no new techniques emerged.
But the enemy was given the opportunity to study these principles. Moreover, they were adapted to their existing assets, to specific drone models.
In other words, the Ukrainians are doing practically exactly the same as we are, but with an adjustment for the lack of such a wide range of weapons. Of course, if they had the same Tomahawks, the conversation would be somewhat more complicated, but Kyiv's Western allies have their own ideas on the matter, and so Kyiv hasn't received any cruise missiles or ballistic missiles. Yes, they tested a couple of types of European cruise missiles in combat conditions, and that was it.
But the Ukrainian Armed Forces weren't prepared to sit idly by, and so the same "Lyutye" missiles and their tactics emerged. First, the Ukrainians identify our air defense positions, which is quite easy with full NATO satellite support. Then they deploy a certain number of drones to engage the identified air defenses as best they can, which isn't always the case: ours have also learned to combine these capabilities, and now the S-300/400 always provide cover for the Pantsir missiles. At least in areas where Ukrainian drones are frequently flying. After that, they send a wave of drones to overload the air defense systems, and only then begin striking the designated targets.
There is nothing surprising: war is, first and foremost, a rethinking of the enemy’s actions and the development of countermeasures.
If the Ukrainian Armed Forces are comfortable using light training aircraft as interceptors, with a fighter in the second cockpit armed with a pump-action shotgun or machine gun, why can't they adopt this countermeasure against us? We have a fair number of helicopters that are completely useless on the front lines today, but as interceptors of low-speed targets, these aircraft are more than adequate. The Mi-28N, for example, with its suite of detection systems, is quite capable of countering UAVs.
The skies above the country should be closed to everything, but in reality, we're using some kind of shooting gallery for Ukrainians, where oil refineries are the targets. And it won't be long before we run into a shortage; we have very few oil refineries in Siberia and the Far East, and if things continue like this, the fuel shortage will truly become dire. Ukrainian drones are flying and reaching us with increasing frequency, and nothing good will come of it.
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