Kostiantyn Vlasenko was huddled in a hole under the boiler of a bombed-out school when he came to a terrifying conclusion: To survive, he needed to amputate his only remaining foot.
The Ukrainian infantryman had already lost his left foot in a Russian drone strike in February. His right leg was broken and bent in the same attack, hindering his ability even to crawl. About three months later, after working up the courage, he grabbed his knife, sliced off his foot and applied a tourniquet to staunch the bleeding.
On October 4, after almost eight months holed up in the boilerhouse - and 491 days on Ukraine’s drone-infested frontlines - the 49-year-old was rescued in dramatic fashion: A giant, six-propellor drone, controlled remotely, whisked a harnessed and dangling Vlasenko high into the sky and spirited him 15 km (9 miles) away to safety.
The operation was the first known aerial drone rescue of a soldier, Ukrainian commanders said, in a five-year conflict that has seen the technology used with unprecedented scale and lethality, redefining modern warfare.
Three Vampire drones escorted the rescue drone to distract Russian drones.
A Ukrainian heavy-lift drone, the Ayudag-6, was adapted to evacuate a wounded soldier.
Three Vampire drones escorted the rescue drone to distract Russian drones.
A Ukrainian heavy-lift drone, the Ayudag-6, was adapted to evacuate a wounded soldier.
Three Vampire drones escorted the rescue drone to distract Russian drones.
A Ukrainian heavy-lift drone, the Ayudag-6, was adapted to evacuate a wounded soldier.
Three Vampire drones escorted the rescue drone to distract Russian drones.
Annotated illustration showing how a Ukrainian heavy-lift drone, the Ayudag-6, was adapted to evacuate a wounded soldier. A six-rotor drone hovers in a pale blue sky with a black arrow pointing right to show its direction of travel. Its battery and electric winch are labeled on the central frame. Below it, Kostiantyn Vlasenko hangs in a yellow harness, with a circled detail highlighting that both of his feet are missing after a Russian drone attack. Callouts explain that an earlier drone delivery brought him the harness, and that three Vampire drones escorted the rescue drone to distract Russian drones. Smaller escort drones appear in the background and at the bottom of the image.
The infantryman endured one of the longest Ukrainian deployments on record along the front lines of the conflict against Russia. The area is known as the kill zone because of the vast armies of drones swarming the skies which make any movement potentially fatal. Nowhere is safe.
Soldiers on both sides are forced to dig foxholes deep underground and often find themselves trapped in their positions for many months. Casualties remain high, though the primacy of drones has largely halted Russian advances.
The drone rescue marked a stunning turnaround for Vlasenko, who had largely written off his chances in the agonizing months after amputating his own limb.
“I had already buried myself,” the soldier told Reuters from his hospital bed in the northeastern city of Kharkiv as he looked down at his two bandaged stumps. “I knew there was no hope left.”
Vlasenko’s story of his ordeal and rescue was corroborated by the Ukrainian military and video footage from a camera mounted on the drone that saved him, although Reuters could not independently verify all elements of his account.
Vlasenko serves in the 30th Mechanized Brigade deployed in the Kharkiv region. In May last year, he was sent to a frontline position to join a comrade, whose call sign was Basky.
The men, jammed in a cramped dugout, were supplied by daily drone supply drops, including chocolate and premium cigarettes on Vlasenko’s birthday.
When it was finally time to rotate troops in autumn last year, two relief soldiers were both killed on their way to Vlasenko’s position, he said. Two more soldiers sent to retrieve their bodies were also killed.
“That’s when I remember realizing that this would definitely be a turning point,” said the married infantryman. “That no one would get out anymore.”
After 10 months together, Vlasenko and Basky were eventually forced to abandon their position in mid-February when their foxhole flooded, forcing them to take refuge in a ruined school building. The respite proved short-lived. A Russian surveillance drone soon spotted them emerging to pick up a package of dry clothing and food dropped by comrades.
Another Russian drone bombed them, killing Basky on his 50th birthday. Vlasenko’s left foot was ripped apart by the blast. He seriously injured his other leg as he fell.
Barely able to move, he found shelter in a pit, about 80 by 60 centimetres wide, that he found beneath the metal boiler that once heated the school.
His left foot gradually “rotted away”, said Vlasenko, who found the memory painful to discuss. The right lower leg was so badly injured, with the bone protruding, that he eventually decided to sever the foot.
“I had to amputate it because it was just dragging along behind me,” he said. “The leg was dragging so much that the bone was sticking out further and further.”
Vlasenko is recovering in hospital in the city of Kharkiv after his ordeal ended this month. REUTERS/Sofiia Gatilova
As Vlasenko started losing hope, his commanders further back from the front lines worked with the 92nd Assault Brigade and other units on ways to get him out.
Evacuations of the wounded from the kill zone by pickup trucks or armoured vehicles had proved almost impossible because of the aerial-drone threat, according to the officer in charge of the operation’s planning, who introduced himself only by his call sign Alex.
Ukrainian units had started using unmanned ground vehicles on wheels or tracks, but this was also risky, he added. Two such vehicles attempted to reach Vlasenko. Both were destroyed by Russian drones.
Then officers heard about a new heavy-lift drone being made by a local manufacturer, Gurzuf Defence. With its six vertical rotors and black skeleton, it resembles a huge insect — and can lift up to 90 kg for up to 25 km.
It would need to fly Vlasenko — who the officers reckoned weighed about 70 kg after more than a year on the front — for 15 km to a safe position further back from the front.
The mission was fraught with danger: Larger Ukrainian aerial drones are often intercepted by smaller Russian first-person-view drones, which allow the remote pilot to see the scene from the craft’s perspective in real time.
In early October, Vlasenko found that one of his regular supply parcel drops contained unexpected items: a strange harness and a phone with instruction videos saved.
Vlasenko secured himself in the triangle and clipped it to a carabiner hanging from the drone’s winch.
The day before the rescue, a drone delivered an evacuation triangle and a phone with video instructions on how to use it.
Vlasenko secured himself in the triangle and clipped it to a carabiner hanging from the drone’s winch.
The day before the rescue, a drone delivered an evacuation triangle and a phone with video instructions on how to use it.
Vlasenko secured himself in the triangle and clipped it to a carabiner hanging from the drone’s winch.
The day before the rescue, a drone delivered an evacuation triangle and a phone with video instructions on how to use it.
Vlasenko secured himself in the triangle and clipped it to a carabiner hanging from the drone’s winch.
The day before the rescue, a drone delivered an evacuation triangle and a phone with video instructions on how to use it.
Annotated two-step illustration of how Kostiantyn Vlasenko prepared for a drone rescue. In step 1, a front view of a yellow and white evacuation triangle harness, with shoulder straps and a waist strap, shows arrows pointing inward at the sides and upward at the center to indicate how it tightens. The caption says a drone delivered the harness, along with a phone with video instructions on using it, the day before the rescue. In step 2, a small side view of the rescue drone has a box highlighting the underside where its electric winch is mounted, with an arrow leading to an enlarged view below. There, Vlasenko lies back in the yellow harness, clipped by a carabiner to a cable hanging from the winch under the drone frame.
Vlasenko knew the risks, but he also understood it was his best hope.
The next day, October 4, the huge six-rotor drone itself arrived. Vlasenko clipped himself onto a carabiner dangling from a winch on the machine and zoomed up to a height of 70 metres (230 ft).
He came out of the boilerhouse and clipped himself onto the drone using an evacuation triangle.
Vlasenko hid for months in a school boilerhouse damaged by Russian drone attacks.
He came out of the boilerhouse and clipped himself onto the drone using an evacuation triangle.
Vlasenko hid for months in a school boilerhouse damaged by Russian drone attacks.
He came out of the boilerhouse and clipped himself onto the drone using an evacuation triangle.
Vlasenko hid for months in a school boilerhouse damaged by Russian drone attacks.
He came out of the boilerhouse and clipped himself onto the drone using an evacuation triangle.
Vlasenko hid for months in a school boilerhouse damaged by Russian drone attacks.
He came out of the boilerhouse and clipped himself onto the drone using an evacuation triangle.
Vlasenko hid for months in a school boilerhouse damaged by Russian drone attacks.
Annotated three-step illustration of Kostiantyn Vlasenko’s drone rescue. In step 1, a gray, partly collapsed school boilerhouse sits amid rubble and grass, with Vlasenko lying in a yellow harness at its base. The caption says he hid there for months while Russian drone attacks damaged the building. In step 2, an arrow leads to the heavy-lift drone sitting on the ground, with Vlasenko lying beneath it as he clips himself on using the evacuation triangle. A curved arrow points upward as the drone rises with him hanging in the harness. A circular inset shows footage from the actual rescue. In step 3, the drone flies off to the right, carrying him seated in the harness beneath it. The caption says it carried him 15 km to safety.
Three smaller six-propeller drones escorted the main craft to distract Russian attack craft. Four Ukrainian first-person-view drone crews, along with artillery crews and larger, fixed-wing drones, bombarded known Russian drone positions for two hours to suppress enemy fire.
After a tense quarter of an hour, the rescue drone landed at its destination, whose precise location was withheld by the military for security reasons.
For Vlasenko, even after all the terrors he’d faced, the journey to safety held its own unique dread.
“I wasn’t afraid of falling, say somewhere into the forest, I wasn’t afraid of that,” he said. “But I was afraid of falling into the water, because I can’t swim.”
Vitalii Hnidyi, Lauren Roback, Max Hunder, Daria Smetanko and Anna Voitenko