Almost every second jet-powered Geran drone gets through Ukraine's air defenses. Moscow is counting on dark apartments and $45 million in losses for every hour of air-raid sirens to wring from Kyiv the concessions that four and a half years of Russian infantry assaults have failed to win.
On the morning of October 7, a Kh-101 cruise missile brought down part of a five-story apartment building in Pryluky, in the Chernihiv region. Many residents were still asleep. The search and rescue operation ended only the following day. By the morning of October 8, the death toll had reached 22, including five children, and more than fifty people were wounded. That day Vladimir Putin turned 74. The Russian Defense Ministry reported on the night's work on its Telegram channel with the words "A missile suite is playing" and listed Kyiv and six regions where, by its account, only defense industry facilities had been hit.
The most alarming thing about that night lies hidden in a report that at first glance looked almost triumphant. The Ukrainian military announced that it had intercepted more than 80% of the jet-powered drones, its best result in weeks. At the same time, Russia launched dozens of missiles, and the deadliest strike of the night, the one on Pryluky, was carried out by a missile. Ukrainian air defense has become a blanket that is too short: pull it over your head and your feet get cold. The moment mobile teams and fighter jets are redeployed to hunt jet drones, the missile defense umbrella is left exposed, and it is already full of holes because of a chronic shortage of Patriot interceptors.
I believe that in the fall of 2026 the war entered a new phase, and its main instrument became something that a year and a half ago many specialists condescendingly dismissed as an expensive toy. The jet-powered version of the Geran has become a lever designed to exploit one specific weakness of the enemy. The Kremlin has made its target the city as a system, where electricity, bridges, taxes and nerves are all tied into a single knot. The goal is transparent: to force Kyiv by early 2027 to concede in the Donbas what could not be taken by storm.
The Statistics Went Dark. Here Is What They Were Hiding
Since August 11, the Ukrainian Air Force has stopped regularly publishing complete data on the number of missiles launched and shot down. For a military that for three years turned daily interception reports into an argument for donors and a weapon in the information war, this step speaks louder than any number. Nobody hides good statistics.
What has nonetheless leaked out adds up to an unpleasant picture. Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky acknowledged that the shoot-down rate for jet-powered drones is "around 50 to 55%, sometimes 60% thanks to Ukrainian aviation." In mid-September, Air Force spokesman Yurii Ihnat cited a similar figure, about 60%, and compared it with the usual 90 to 95% for piston-engine Shaheds. Later, according to Ukrainian media, Zelensky estimated that roughly 45% of the jet drones in September could be neither shot down nor diverted by electronic warfare.
The volumes are growing faster than air defense crews can adapt. On September 21, Ihnat spoke of 1,800 to 1,900 jet drones in less than a month and nearly 7,700 since they were first used. On September 29, he gave the final tally: 3,177 jet-powered drones, compared with 2,850 in August. If both estimates are accurate, Russia launched about 1,300 such aircraft in the last eight days of September, almost as many as in the previous three weeks. I trust the second figure more, since it is a final total and is easy to check against the August baseline. Even on the most cautious reading, the conclusion is the same: by the start of the heating season, Moscow had reached a pace of more than a hundred jet drones a day.
Percentages are easy to convert into hardware. If 45% of September's 3,177 drones got through the defenses, that means more than 1,400 jet drones that were not shot down in a single month. Some of them strayed off course or crashed on their own, but if even a third reached their targets, that amounts to about five hundred strikes, each of which, according to Ukrainian intelligence, carries up to 90 kg of explosives.
Bridges No One Touched for Four Years. Until October 1
The day after Ihnat's report, on September 30, Russia came down hard on Kyiv and its suburbs. Prime Minister Serhiy Koretskyi, the former head of Naftogaz who took over the government only on July 16, said nothing like it had been seen "since the end of last heating season." Sirens in the capital barely fell silent for a full day. The Trypillia thermal power plant was damaged, and four people were killed in Kyiv and the surrounding region, including a child.
Then came something that had not happened once in the entire war. On October 1, an attack drone hit the Southern Bridge across the Dnipro, and over the following day Russian drones struck it three more times. According to city authorities, a support pier, a crash barrier, the roadway and the protective concrete barrier of the metro line were damaged. On October 3 it was the turn of the Northern Bridge, formerly the Moskovsky Bridge: its roadway and trolleybus overhead lines were damaged. Mayor Vitali Klitschko restricted traffic on three crossings, and the city ground to a halt in massive traffic jams. On October 6, a strike hit a bridge over the Dnipro in Zaporizhzhia.
The logic of the target selection is easiest to read on a map. Kyiv has nine bridges across the Dnipro, counting pedestrian and railroad bridges. North of the capital, a single road bridge spans the river, and the nearest crossing to the south lies about 145 km away, roughly two and a half hours by road. Infrastructure Minister Mykola Kalashnyk announced the construction of backup crossings as early as October 3. A city of almost three million people, cut in two by a river, risks splitting into two halves, each with its own traffic jams and its own panic.
On October 8, a story appeared in the British press claiming that Putin had ordered General Sergei Surovikin, nicknamed "General Armageddon," to intensify strikes on Kyiv and above all on its bridges. Independent Russian sources immediately countered that Surovikin was vacationing with his family in Moscow and that no one intended to return him to command in Ukraine. I regard both versions as unverified. What is telling is something else: the name was chosen with unerring precision. Exactly four years ago, on October 8, 2022, Surovikin was appointed commander of the joint group of forces, and on October 10 the first large wave of strikes on Ukraine's energy system began. Whoever is directing the current campaign, its signature is unmistakable.
The signature is unmistakable in the details as well. On September 30, drones damaged two stores outside Kyiv; the next day a drone crashed into a school in the capital's Solomianskyi district; in the Odesa region a business center was hit; and on October 8 a drone struck the grounds of a combined school and kindergarten in the Bucha district. The Russian Defense Ministry insists that it strikes only military and defense industry facilities and explains hits on civilian buildings by claiming that weapons were produced or stored there. The scale of such "explanations" is evident from the figures compiled by Ukraine's human rights ombudsman, Dmytro Lubinets: from January through August 2026, 15,280 civilians were killed or wounded by Russian strikes, 55% more than in the same period last year.
Geran-5: The Drone That Stopped Being a Drone
The first reports of jet-powered versions of the Shahed/Geran family appeared in early 2024, and mass use began in mid-2025. Many military analysts at the time greeted the innovation with skepticism, and they had strong arguments. The jet engine made the aircraft several times more expensive than the version with a two-stroke gasoline engine, while the hit rate and the damage inflicted barely increased. The economics of the war, it seemed, favored the defense.
Russia responded with iterations. The transitional Geran-3 and Geran-4 gave way to the fundamentally different Geran-5, which in appearance and performance is closer to a cruise missile than to a drone. Ukraine's Defense Intelligence Directorate, which studied the wreckage, cites the following specifications: a takeoff weight of about 850 kg, a cruising speed of 450 to 600 km/h, a flight endurance of about two hours, a range of up to 950 km, and a warhead of roughly 90 kg. The engine is Chinese, made by Telefly, the same type as on the Geran-3 but with greater thrust. The aircraft has a conventional aerodynamic layout and, according to the intelligence directorate's findings, is structurally similar to the Iranian Karrar drone. Launches from the Su-25 attack aircraft are also being tested.
Russian military Telegram channels that specialize in the combat use of Gerans give more modest figures: a range of over 600 km, a warhead of more than 60 kg, a speed above 350 km/h, guidance by machine vision, and pseudorandom frequency hopping to counter electronic warfare. The discrepancy in range and payload is nearly one and a half times. Both sides have a motive: Ukrainian intelligence benefits from showing its partners the threat in full, while Russian propagandists have no interest in revealing the weapon's real capabilities. For air defense, this dispute is secondary. Any of the cited ranges easily covers the distance from the Russian border to Kyiv, and the speed, even by the lower Russian estimate, is nearly double what mobile fire teams had grown used to over the years.
The jet-powered Geran is merely the most visible member of a family of cheap ersatz missiles. Russia's defense industry is simultaneously producing the S8000 Banderol and the Dan line in its M and T variants, refining them based on combat experience. The RM-48U, with a range of up to 400 km, has been assembled from a target missile and decommissioned surface-to-air missiles, and some S-400 launchers have been converted to fire it. At the same time, production of Iskanders is being ramped up, and their North Korean counterparts, the KN-23, are being purchased from Pyongyang.
Communications delivered a separate surprise. Former Google chief executive Eric Schmidt, who has become one of the largest foreign investors in Ukraine's defense sector, said in a recent interview that Russia has managed without a satellite link. According to him, it built a mesh network from Chinese components: a pair of Shaheds circles between Belarus and Kyiv as relays, through which operators see targets in 8K resolution. Schmidt claims that this is how a drone was guided straight into the central window of the headquarters of the Security Service of Ukraine. The words of an investor who profits commercially from alarm should be taken with a grain of salt. Here, however, they are corroborated by a trophy: the Ukrainian military captured an intact Geran-3 with a camera and a mesh communications module.
Why Machine Guns Are Powerless and the Sting Can't Keep Up
There is nothing fantastical about the jet-powered Geran. A turbojet engine shows up clearly on radar screens, and the target is easy to detect and track. Seeing it is not enough, however; you have to be fast enough. Speed compresses the window for visual detection and engagement, especially on the final leg of the route, and the mobile fire teams with antiaircraft machine guns and cannons that bore the burden of defense against piston-engine Shaheds in 2024 and 2025 are nearly useless against a target flying at 500 km/h.
Ukraine has mastered mass production of interceptor drones, but most of them are quadcopters built to counter the slow early Gerans. The fastest ones, such as Wild Hornet's Sting or the Spys from the German-Ukrainian Quantum WIY Industries, reach speeds above 400 km/h and are capable of downing a Geran-5 on a head-on course. The Sting's manufacturer claims 80 to 90% successful intercepts against piston-engine targets. Against jet-powered ones, according to the Technological Forces of Ukraine association, specialized interceptors achieved only 35 to 40% in early tests. On October 4, at a briefing with German Chancellor Friedrich Merz, Zelensky put the effectiveness of Bars interceptors against jet drones at about 30% and announced joint production with Germany. Since August, jet-powered interceptors such as the Alexa Spatium have been entering service, but no practical results from their use are yet visible. According to Zelensky, 67 companies are working on ways to destroy the Geran-5; Schmidt counts at least five that are already testing finished solutions.
Manned aviation, which Zelensky cites, is no cure-all either. There are few aircraft, and even fewer well-protected airfields. The F-16s supplied by Western countries require maintenance and are not always operational. The main short-range air-to-air weapon, the AIM-9 Sidewinder missile, costs hundreds of thousands of dollars, several times more than a jet-powered Geran. Shooting down a drone with such a missile is like paying for a cab with gold bars. Cheap solutions such as aircraft cannons with radar or optical guidance and airburst shells are still being developed.
This problem has a historical twin. On June 13, 1944, the first V-1 fell on London. It was a flying bomb with a pulse-jet engine that traveled at an altitude of about 550 meters at a speed of roughly 530 km/h, almost exactly in the middle of the Geran-5's speed range. British antiaircraft gunners at first expended about 2,500 shells for every target downed, and in the first week on the coast the guns destroyed only 17% of the bombs. The turning point came with two American developments: the SCR-584 radar with automatic gun laying, created at the Radiation Laboratory of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, and shells fitted with proximity fuzes. By August 23, the guns were bringing down 60% of the V-1s, and in the last week of the month 74%. On the best day the tally reached 82%, and consumption fell to about a hundred shells per target.
London's experience yields two conclusions that are unpleasant for Kyiv. The solution was the cheapness of a single shot, not a more expensive missile. And that solution came from an ally's factories across the ocean, and it took about ten weeks to implement. The threat was ultimately removed by ground armies, when in September 1944 the Allies captured the launch sites on the French coast, after which the Germans retargeted the V-1s at Antwerp, where 2,448 of them fell by March 1945.
A Two-Year Delay: The Rada Looks for Someone to Blame
On October 6, the Verkhovna Rada's temporary investigative commission on possible violations of law in the defense sector held a session. Testifying before lawmakers was Colonel Yurii Cherevashenko, deputy commander of the Air Force responsible for unmanned air defense systems. The question was blunt: why was the military effectively unprepared for mass jet-powered drones if it had known about them since January 2024? Stressing that he was expressing a personal opinion, Cherevashenko replied: "We saw that the enemy was using about four types of jet engines, and we understood that he did not have a ready-made solution. Perhaps some intelligence services had more information, but I think the reason for this delay is insufficient communication between the units that had the information."
Translated from military jargon into plain language, it is simple. The Ukrainian military saw the Russians cycling through engines and concluded that the enemy was still searching. Meanwhile, the enemy found what it was looking for.
The mistake was conceptual. For four years, Ukrainian and Western defense thinking relied on a comfortable framework: Ukraine innovates, Russia copies and scales up, but slowly. Schmidt described the collapse of this framework more precisely than many generals: "It was always assumed that Ukraine creates new things and Russia is big and slow. Something has changed. Now Russia is improving at roughly the same speed as Ukraine, but it has far more resources." Ukrainian military observers note that new modifications of jet-powered drones now appear every two to three days and that the tactics for using them are constantly changing.
The resources are indeed not comparable. Back in the winter, Ukraine's commander in chief, Oleksandr Syrskyi, said that Russia was producing 404 Shaheds and Gerans of various types every day and expected in 2026 to reach the use of up to a thousand drones a day. The strength of Russia's unmanned systems forces, according to his data, is set to grow from 80,000 to 165,500 personnel. According to Rosstat, Russia's federal statistics service, production of drones and related aviation systems in April 2026 rose 117% from April of the previous year. The components of the Geran-5, according to the intelligence directorate's findings, are identical to those of other Gerans made in the Alabuga special economic zone in Tatarstan. Tank plants are running up against their capacity ceilings; drone plants are not.
Patriots Without Missiles: The War in the Gulf Drained Ukraine's Arsenals
Ballistic missiles have never been easy for Ukraine. There were always few Patriot systems and their European counterpart, the SAMP/T, capable of shooting down Iskanders, and interceptors were always in short supply. In the summer of 2026, the shortage became absolute. According to the Air Force, a critical shortage of PAC-3 interceptors emerged in June, and by July 1 the stocks had run out completely. As early as January, Zelensky acknowledged that some Patriot batteries were sitting idle without missiles. Over three years, Ukraine received more than 1,600 interceptors of various types and has, according to open-source estimates, roughly ten systems. About 95% of the missiles for them came through the PURL mechanism, meaning they were paid for by partners through the American supply system.
The main reason for the empty launchers lies far beyond Ukraine. On February 28, 2026, the United States and Israel began strikes on Iran, and Tehran retaliated with missiles against Israel and against American facilities in the Persian Gulf states. The first seven days of the operation, according to an estimate presented by the Pentagon to Congress, cost Washington about $6 billion, of which roughly $4 billion went to munitions, above all interceptors. The Gulf monarchies burned through their own stocks of American interceptors. Lockheed Martin Vice President Brian Dunn publicly acknowledged that the manufacturer does not control how PAC-3s are allocated among customers and cannot guarantee specific delivery dates to U.S. allies. Kyiv ended up at the back of a line full of the rich and the frightened.
The arithmetic of ballistic missile defense is merciless. A PAC-3 MSE missile costs about $4 million, and American doctrine calls for firing two missiles at each ballistic target, so every intercepted Iskander costs the defense roughly $8 million. Ukraine is searching for missiles wherever it can: according to Greek media, Kyiv asked Athens to transfer up to 200 PAC-2s. Foreign Minister Andrii Sybiha stated that Kyiv is ready to obtain any available interceptors from partners by any means possible, including swaps. On February 12, German Defense Minister Boris Pistorius promised 35 PAC-3 missiles, thirty from Ramstein partners and five more from Berlin, and specified that it was a matter of days, not weeks. Under the doctrine, thirty-five missiles are enough for roughly seventeen ballistic targets.
Kyiv sees its way out of this trap in a homegrown interceptor. The FREYJA project is being led by Fire Point, the company known for the Flamingo cruise missile. Its FP-7.x interceptor is expected to cost about $700,000, compared with $4 million for a PAC-3. Ten countries and major European defense companies, including Kongsberg, Saab, Thales and Leonardo, are taking part in the project, and Fire Point has signed agreements with 13 European companies to supply radars and guidance systems. At the Yalta European Strategy forum, Zelensky said that Ukraine very much hopes to begin testing the first system at the end of December, adding: "We must do it in winter." Fire Point's chief executive, Iryna Terekh, gives a more cautious timeline for the first interception of a ballistic target: by mid-2027.
$45 Million an Hour: The Kremlin Strikes at the Balance Sheet
Economy and Environment Minister Oleksandr Kravchenko has calculated what a siren costs the country. Every hour of business downtime caused by an air raid alert costs the economy about $45 million. "If people are in a bunker, business stops," he explained in late September in an interview with a British newspaper. On some days, sirens sound for up to ten hours. The minister estimated direct damage to fixed assets since the start of the year alone at about $10 billion.
In September, the government tried to reduce the losses by introducing a two-tier alert system: "yellow" for drone attacks and "red" for a missile or combined threat. During a yellow alert, according to Kravchenko, more than half of all businesses keep operating. The jet-powered Geran seems purpose-built to break this compromise. Formally it is a drone and falls under the yellow level, yet it flies at the speed of a cruise missile. On September 28, during precisely such a yellow alert, a drone struck the building of the National Academy of Sciences in central Kyiv.
A rough calculation illustrates the scale well. Zelensky put the hole in the 2026 budget at about $27 billion, and Kravchenko puts the need for external financing in 2027 at $52.6 billion. At a rate of $45 million an hour, that sum corresponds to about 49 days of continuous alert. Moscow cannot take Kyiv, but it can send it a bill, and it does so every night.
Western military analysts cite four reasons for the shift in Russian strategy, and the framework is hard to argue with. The first is the front: enormous losses with minimal advances demand a different picture of success for the domestic audience and the Kremlin's admirers abroad. The second is coercion: Russia is unable to take Kyiv or even all of the Donbas, but it can make life in Ukrainian cities unbearable this winter. The third is the economy, which Kravchenko describes. The fourth is a favorable confluence of circumstances: jet drones fly higher and faster, and Ukraine has no missiles for its Patriots. The cold multiplies the effect of every power plant knocked out of service. Senior Ukrainian officials say plainly that Moscow wants to paralyze Kyiv before the frosts set in and force it in early 2027 to make territorial concessions in the Donbas.
Tehran 1988, Ganja 2020: What History Knows About the War of the Cities
The very term "war of the cities" was born in the Iran-Iraq War. On February 29, 1988, Iraq for the first time fired Al-Hussein missiles at Tehran, an extended version of the Soviet Scud that could finally reach the Iranian capital. A significant share of Tehran's residents left the city every night, which created serious political problems for the regime. A detail that is rarely recalled: as early as March 1988, the Iranians were reporting that the Iraqi missiles were breaking apart in flight because the extended airframe could not withstand loads the Scud had never been designed for.
Honesty requires acknowledging that coercion worked back then. On July 18, 1988, Tehran agreed to a ceasefire under a UN Security Council resolution, and it took effect on August 20. The missiles fired at cities, however, were only one lever, and far from the main one. In April 1988, the Iraqi army retook the Fao Peninsula; that same month, the U.S. Navy inflicted heavy damage on the Iranian fleet in Operation Praying Mantis; on July 3, the cruiser Vincennes shot down an Iranian A300 passenger jet over the Persian Gulf with 290 people on board; and by then Iraq had been using chemical weapons systematically. Iran broke when its front was collapsing and the country found itself internationally isolated.
Neither of these two conditions exists in Ukraine in 2026. Russia cannot take even all of the Donbas, and the front is not collapsing. Europe is paying for Patriot missiles and plugging Kyiv's budget holes. Betting that cities will break before the army does, without a collapse of the front, has historically been a losing wager.
I am writing these lines on October 11, exactly six years after a night that Azerbaijan will never forget. I remember that fall well. On the night of October 11, 2020, less than a day after a humanitarian ceasefire brokered in Moscow took effect, Armenian armed forces launched a missile strike on an apartment building in the center of Ganja. Nine people were killed and more than thirty were wounded. On October 17, another strike on Ganja took 13 lives and wounded 52 people. In total, 27 civilians were killed in Ganja during the war and more than 120 were wounded. The calculation was the same as that of today's Russian commanders: terrorize the home front in order to stop the front line. The front did not stop. On November 10, 2020, Armenia signed the trilateral statement that became its act of capitulation.
The sky over this war stopped being exclusively Ukrainian long ago. On December 25, 2024, Russian air defenses repelling a Ukrainian drone attack hit an Azerbaijan Airlines Embraer 190 over Grozny on a flight from Baku. The plane crashed near Aktau. Of the 67 people on board, 38 were killed. Only on October 9, 2025, in Dushanbe, did Putin acknowledge in a conversation with Azerbaijani President Ilham Aliyev that two Russian air defense missiles had exploded a few meters from the airliner. On April 15, 2026, the foreign ministries of the two countries stated in a joint declaration that the air defense had been triggered unintentionally and that the issue of compensation had been settled. The density of fire in the skies over the region has grown many times over since then, and with it the cost of any mistake for the neighbors.
The Ceasefire Only Trump Could See
Washington is trying to stop the war of the cities in its customary way, with a loud announcement. In late January 2026, Donald Trump said he had asked Putin to halt strikes on Kyiv and other cities for a week during a severe cold snap. The Kremlin confirmed its agreement, but only until February 1. Zelensky quipped at the time that "either Russia thinks a week has four days, or it is betting on war." Trump responded that Putin had kept his word.
On September 14, the American president announced on his social network, Truth Social, that Ukraine and Russia had mutually renounced strikes on energy infrastructure. Moscow did not confirm this, and Zelensky demanded guarantees from partners. On September 22, on the sidelines of the UN General Assembly in New York, he repeated that Ukraine was ready for a full energy ceasefire if it was mutual. In the spring of 2025, a similar 30-day moratorium collapsed within hours of being announced.
For the Kremlin, an energy ceasefire is a dual-use instrument. A pause allows it to stockpile missiles, while the very subject of a ceasefire becomes a bargaining chip against Ukrainian strikes on Russian oil refineries and shadow fleet tankers. The war of the cities has long been a two-way affair: on the night of August 20, according to Moscow Mayor Sergei Sobyanin, 250 Ukrainian drones were headed for the Russian capital. Ukrainian military observers point out that in September Russia fired fewer hard-to-intercept missiles than in August, even though production did not decline. The missiles have not disappeared. They are being stockpiled. Ahead of the U.S. midterm elections on November 3, the White House needs a headline about peace, and Moscow understands this perfectly well.
The Race to February: Who Gets There First
Ukraine today is solving the same problem Britain faced in the summer of 1944: finding a cheap way to reliably kill a fast target. Judging by the number of companies testing interceptors, a solution is close, and by spring the jet-powered Geran will be shot down as confidently as the piston-engine version. Russia, by that point, is preparing its next move. On March 23, 2026, the first 16 production satellites of the Rassvet constellation built by Bureau 1440 lifted off from the Plesetsk Cosmodrome, and on July 19 another 16 joined them. The satellites are linked by laser intersatellite channels. Next to more than 9,800 Starlink satellites this is a drop in the ocean, but controlling drones over Ukraine does not require global coverage. Once operational, Rassvet will make the relay Shaheds unnecessary and give the drone a link that cannot be shot down by a second drone.
Add to this ballistic missiles with no interceptors to counter them, and powerful glide bombs. Hanging over all of it is a possible large-scale mobilization in Russia. Schmidt believes that Ukraine could cope with each of these threats individually, but with all of them at once, without Western help, it would be nearly impossible. Here I agree with him completely.
My conclusion is harsher than is customary in cautious analysis. Technically, the fall belonged to Russia: it found the gap and brought its strikes to a pace of more than a hundred jet drones a day. Strategically, the Kremlin has bet on a model that has historically worked only in combination with a collapse of the front and the isolation of the victim. Moscow has neither. The winter of 2026 to 2027 will be the hardest of the war for Ukrainian cities, but Russia will not achieve the political result for which it is being staged.
I state my position in four verifiable predictions. By December 20, 2026, Russia will carry out at least one attack in which more than a hundred missiles are launched in a single night, because the stockpile accumulated over the fall has to be discharged somewhere. In November, the number of jet-powered drones launched at Ukraine will exceed 3,500. The December tests of FREYJA will slip, and the system's first confirmed interception of a ballistic target will take place no earlier than June 2027. By April 1, 2027, Kyiv will not sign a single document on withdrawing troops from the part of the Donetsk region that remains under its control.
The final image also comes from 1944. On September 7, Duncan Sandys, who headed the British government committee on countering the V-weapons, told journalists that the Battle of London was over, except for a few last shots. The following evening, September 8, the first V-2 fell on Staveley Road in Chiswick, London, and killed three people. Against the ballistic missile, Britain had nothing.
Meanwhile, in Kyiv, they are building backup crossings over the Dnipro.