„Manchmal kreisen bis zu sieben Drohnen über uns“: Wie ukrainische DTEK-Reparaturteams die „grauen“ Städte der Region Donezk wieder mit Strom versorgen

**Translation 1/2**:

“Claws” on their boots, a branded winter jacket, body armor, a helmet, and a ten-kilogram coil of wire in their hands — this is exactly how Russians see DTEK repair crews restoring electricity. And yet they still direct drones and missiles at them, even though the crews are simply trying to make life near the front line less exhausting and harsh than it truly is.

An armored DTEK vehicle enters a city on the Pokrovsk axis, battered after the occupiers’ advance. Inside the vehicle is a crew of four repair workers, one of whom barely takes his eyes off the image on the drone detector screen. It shows the road, trees, part of the empty city — the same view seen by a Russian operator several kilometers away. He is looking for someone he can kill or maim this time. For the repair workers, however, this “shared” picture is a way to save their lives. At least they can see what is happening above their heads while driving to fix a severed power line and restore electricity to a “grey” city.

“Drones are flying. It’s picking up a signal, but it’s probably reconnaissance, because you can see the horizon. And this one is already FPV… The bastard is searching. It happens that as many as seven drones circle above us at the same time,” comments Vitalii, head of the Pokrovsk District Power Grid of DTEK Donetsk Electric Networks, on the images on the detector screen.

The vehicles we are traveling in to repair the power line are “covered” with DTEK markings. Striking repair workers and their vehicles is prohibited by International Humanitarian Law, the rules and customs of war, international leaders, and “guarantors.” Yet when the occupiers notice vehicles or people in grey jackets, they do not miss the chance to “hunt.”

“We’ve already been caught in cluster munitions in these vehicles, when they tried to cover us with them; drones have attacked us several times. The last time we were in Hryshyne, a ‘Molniya’ was flying above us. It turned around, hovered, looked — and flew into the vehicle we were sitting in. We were lucky the wind blew it away — it overshot by a meter. Even though that Russian operator could see the whole vehicle was marked: ‘DTEK,’” the man recalls.

Suddenly his attention is drawn not to the image on the drone detector, but to an “update” in the sky: “See that white line in the sky?.. Either air defense is shooting something down, or it’s a missile. No, wait, that’s an aircraft. See, it drew a loop? That’s dropping a KAB. It’ll hit somewhere now. We once worked where we’re heading now, and right before our eyes four aircraft launched KABs at the city at once. That was… scary.”

While the DTEK crew reaches the damaged power lines, the drone flies on. On the screen, it can be seen “spinning” in place, searching for a target. It passes near the crew but notices neither people nor the vehicle. It circles a ruined enterprise and then attacks the ruins there. A few seconds later, an explosion is heard. For several minutes after that, the sky is quiet. During this time, the guys unwind a new wire with six hands and, using “claws,” climb the pole to restore the power line. But when one of them is at the top of the pole, the “Chuika” starts “screaming” again. Within seconds, not one FPV appears overhead, but a whole swarm. The drones have gone hunting, and the risk of the DTEK crew becoming a target for the occupiers is too high to keep working.

Vitalii, together with journalists from *Vchasno*, listens closely to vehicles, incoming strikes, and the buzzing in the sky. The sounds mix and sometimes seem to be something other than what they are. But when the buzzing draws closer, the head of the Pokrovsk District Power Grid sums it up: “Drones are buzzing from all sides. And they’re coming toward us.”

When the buzzing gets dangerously close from different directions, Vitalii shouts to the repair workers to climb down.

“It’s coming toward us… Yes, it’s flying at us. Guys, quickly, scatter! FPV! Drop everything, get away from the vehicles. Let’s go under the trees,” Vitalii shouts.

There are only a few seconds to react, though even those guarantee nothing. Moreover, haste can play a cruel trick if safety is neglected. In particular, because of the drones, one of the repair workers is forced to descend from the top of the pole on his “claws.” One careless move — and you can get injured even with safety gear. But if you don’t hurry, the drone may lock onto a “tasty” target and attack the man. That has already happened.

The difficulty of the repair workers’ job is compounded by physical discomfort — the weight of the body armor and helmet, which together weigh up to 10 kilograms. On the ground, such weight seems insignificant. But when you have to climb several meters up (sometimes to the height of a fourth floor), then descend because of a drone, then climb again and descend again, it becomes a test of physical endurance. Not everyone can pass it.

While we hide under the trees with the repair workers, the guys tensely scan the area: there is almost nowhere to take cover except the trees — the territory is “bare.” There are several buildings nearby, but it was precisely because of strikes on them that the power line was damaged. So how safe they are, and whether the buildings would be “finished off” if movement were noticed there, is a largely rhetorical question.

“We’ve been under shelling more than once. There were times when an FPV descended toward our vehicle, we immediately scattered and fell to the ground… And it just hovered right by the door. We thought the vehicle would be blown apart. And the way it’s flying now — that’s almost every sortie. Sometimes you have to run and hide several times,” recalls Oleksandr, a repair foreman of the Pokrovsk District Power Grid.

After a few seconds, the drone flies on, but explosions are heard from several directions — other FPVs are already attacking something. The repair workers assess the situation and decide to finish stretching the line as quickly as possible, because the lack of wind and clear weather are not on their side. So all movements are faster, climbing on “claws” as well — difficult, but quick. When a car races down the road, everyone freezes: fiber-optic drones, for example, are unlikely to be detected by the drone detector and will not transmit an image. And it is precisely such a drone that can attack in a particularly insidious way. Everyone understands this, so when the final “Done!” is heard, everyone exhales with relief.

“Are we afraid to go to places like this… Of course we are. Like all people. But the work has to be done — so we do it. We help each other, and that’s it,” says DTEK foreman Oleksii.

In less than an hour at that location, the detector registered seven drones above our heads. All seven hovered and, possibly, were “taking aim,” deciding whether it was worth striking. Although there is a high probability that thanks to DTEK’s camouflage they did not notice them. At the same time, about a dozen drones attacked nearby buildings and had a view of the poles on which DTEK repair workers were fixing the power lines. Each such “look” can end tragically — a Russian operator may either fly in to attack himself or pass the coordinates to a “colleague” in terrorism. Fortunately, this time the repair work in the “grey” and battered city ended well: DTEK returned to base, and people got electricity. However, how many hours will pass before the next attack that damages poles or wires is unknown. Sometimes not even an hour passes.