Nordic Defence Sector spoke with Artem in Sweden, where he is taking part in Hug for Heroes, a two-week programme run by Help Ukraine Gothenburg that supports wounded Ukrainian veterans in their recovery and return to working life.
Before Russia's full-scale invasion, Artem worked as a manager. He tried to volunteer for the army in February 2022 but was turned away; too many people were already trying to join. He was mobilized that September and spent about a month as an infantryman before his unit received its first reconnaissance drone, a Mavic 3 crowdfunded by a fellow soldier's mother. There was one issue, however: no one in the unit could fly it. Artem, who had a friend who shot wedding videos with a similar drone, volunteered. Within a week of training he was flying reconnaissance missions, and within a year he was leading a dedicated FPV strike platoon he had helped train from scratch.
Almost a year after returning from FPV school, an artillery shell exploded next to Artem as he was arming a drone. The drone detonated with it, costing him his right arm and right leg. He also suffered damage to his eyes, his left hand and his voice. Two months into his recovery, he was offered a job as an analyst for a Ukrainian foundation.
How did the war change once FPV drones became widespread? And what's been one of the most important changes you have witnessed most recently?
"Once the FPV era began, moving to and from the front line became much harder for infantry," he says. In 2022, he explains, Russian tanks could approach within a kilometer of Ukrainian positions. Once FPV drones spread, that shrank to 10-15 kilometers, and by 2024-25 tanks had all but disappeared as an offensive weapon. "A $400-500 drone was destroying a $10-15 million tank," he says, "Russian assault groups shifted from two or three tanks to two or three infantrymen instead".
What is a common misconception about working with and against drones that your own operational experience tells you is wrong? What does that mean for your work now?
"Manufacturers build something, test it at their own range, and it shows good results," he says. "But when it reaches the front and runs into electronic warfare, different terrain, weather it wasn't built for, and it just doesn't work." Soldiers lose time they simply don't have, he says: they can't stop a tank because the equipment doesn't fit the moment. "That misconception costs lives."
Artem now gathers feedback from units on which systems work and where, passing it to manufacturers and to the foundation, which can buy and field equipment within days rather than the months state procurement takes. Any solution, he says, has roughly three to four months before Russia finds a countermeasure.
In Sweden, the two weeks have been part rest, part reconnection. Artem describes the programme as a chance to recover, meet other veterans from across Ukraine and get to know Sweden and its culture, while the organisers have also put the group in touch with Swedish companies and organisations. One thing surprised him: "It turns out there are many people in Sweden with amputated limbs who carry on with their lives," he says, "and who show through their own experience that life goes on, even if you've lost a limb".
Nordic and Baltic countries are increasingly prioritising preparedness when it comes to using and countering drones. Do you have any advice when it comes to training operators and implementing drone doctrine?
He splits the approach in two. Infantry, he says, requires motivated people willing to accept real risk, something that is hard to train for. Drone pilots, on the other hand, are a different story entirely: "Someone who plays PlayStation or Xbox is already about 90% of the way to being ready," he says, pointing to the motor control gaming already builds.
He points to how a sport-based approach has already been implemented in Ukraine. "You don't need to train on a drone using it on the battlefield", he says, "you can train for it as a sport, and those skills become transferable if or when the need comes". He discusses how FPV racing competitions now run alongside the war itself, with both soldiers and civilians competing over race tracks whenever there's time to spare. This is advice he says has come out of direct meetings with the Nordic defence industry and professionals he has met during the programme.
He thinks the same approach would land well in the Nordics. "Through sport, people would find getting into flying FPV drones more interesting," he says, "And if war ever comes, those sportsmen will already be quite skilled pilots."
To what extent is it possible for a country to psychologically prepare its population for war?
"You can't prepare for it until it happens," he says. "You can motivate yourself, get ready however you want, but when it actually comes, people just have to gather themselves and go." Some will stay and fight, he says, others will panic and flee, as happened in Ukraine.
He points to Saudi Arabia, where trained personnel and advanced air-defense systems still let through a large Shahed strike during the ongoing conflict in the Middle East. According to Artem, this is because the systems had been trained on in classrooms, not used operationally. "It's less about preparedness, and more about instinct", he added, highlighting the importance of in-the-field training for personnel to better equip themselves for when war hits.
What do you think is missing in how Europe covers this war?
"The media here lacks a direct perspective," he says, arguing that showing people what Shaheds and missiles actually do, rather than reading about it, is what changes minds and policy. He cites Ukraine's building code, which now requires shelters beneath new high-rises, as the kind of concrete step that follows from taking the threat seriously.
He also sees a role for smaller, direct action from abroad. He points to Ukrainian students at Lviv Polytechnic, who ran fundraisers among themselves that were funneled into Shahed-interceptor drones. Artem expresses his support for any Nordic student groups willing to organise similar initiatives.
Hug for Heroes already builds part of that bridge from the other side, bringing veterans like Artem to Sweden and connecting them with Swedish companies and organisations. Artem wants to go further. Come to Ukraine, he says, and he'll show everything: the drones, the front, what the war actually looks like up close, so it can be brought back and shown honestly to people in the rest of Europe.
Help Ukraine Gothenburg can be reached at hug.ngo or contact@hug.ngo.