From the Ashes of Occupation, Phoenix Squad Rises
Misha and Evheniy with a ZU-23-2 anti-aircraft autocannon. // Photo credit: Devin Woodall, April 4, 2025
The 113th Separate Territorial Defense Brigade is a reserve force formed of many units scattered across Kharkiv oblast. The force is comprised mostly of local residents, occasionally with prior military experience, and always with a vested personal interest in defending their homes and families.
Today, I am lucky enough to have embedded with the Phoenix Squad of the 113th at their anti-aircraft (AA) battery. It’s a ZU-23-2 autocannon, a piece of Soviet-era equipment repurposed for use by the 113th to defend Ukrainian territory against a seemingly overwhelming Russian air presence.
It’s rare to obtain the sort of access which allows you to go out and document these anti-air batteries; photos of the positions and guns are often tightly controlled, and for good reason. Even now, the press officer can be heard barking at me: “no landscapes!”
So my camera tilts ever downward, and my gratitude towards hills rises ever higher. Yet I understand the operational necessity for this degree of security: these weapons are needed to stop the damn-near daily terrorist attacks carried out by Russian forces, ones which almost always seem intended for a civilian high-rise or a hotel with foreign journalists. The anti-air units allow those in Kharkiv and elsewhere to live relatively normal lives — to eat out at restaurants, go for a walk in a park, or simply enjoy the exceedingly rare moments of just being left alone.
Naturally, then, these anti-air batteries are a prime target for the Russians.
A slight correction: these days, it’s more accurate to say this is an anti-drone battery, not strictly an anti-aircraft battery. Drones previously comprised a relatively marginal aspect of wartime strategy, used sparingly in support of conventional forces like artillery, cavalry, and manned aircraft. Today, the rules have changed, and it is no strong statement to say that drones have forever modified warfare — the cards have been tossed aside and the table flipped over, with a new age of warfare looming over us.
While historically relevant occupations in war, such as tank operators or snipers, find their profession a dying breed on this new battlefield, old Soviet weapons such as this ZU-23-2 autocannon have seen service in a way never previously imaginable. Originally designed in the 1950s to take down low-flying aircraft and ground-based armored vehicles, this 23mm twin autocannon, now retrofitted with a night vision scope and targeting screen, seems perfect for taking down the Iran-designed Shahed drones that have increasingly terrorized civilians here in Ukraine.
Yes, the rate of drone-based terrorism — indiscriminate deployment of ‘suicide’ drone waves by Russia, designed to overwhelm air defense and demolish civilian infrastructure en masse — has increased substantially in recent months. Yet if you turn on Western media today, you’ll doubtless encounter a pundit who lacks regional knowledge, talking your ear off about a supposed ‘ceasefire in Ukraine’ or about how ‘Russia wants peace’.
The soldiers of the 113th Separate Territorial Defense Brigade in Kharkiv laugh at such a notion: it is impossible for them to take such discussion seriously. Ever since US-led ‘peace talks’ began, there has been a 50% increase in Russian drone attacks on Ukraine, and the shadow of Russian spring offensives in Sumy and Kharkiv oblasts looms large. As a territorial defense unit, many of these men within the 113th call Kharkiv their home. The war is a highly personal affair for them, as their family and friends are at serious risk every time a drone enters the city. As you can imagine, they are ever-motivated to stop these attacks.
“In the land of Wild Fields, the Phoenix rises from the shadow of occupation.
He flies down roads pocked with scars and shattered bombs – he is hunting those who truly believe themselves predators.”
The Fall
I sit in a dusty van with three soldiers from the unit. I am also joined by my fixer, Anastasiya, a volunteer who recently picked up a contract with the 113th to get us here. She has also brought them a massive power bank as a donation to their unit.
“We owe them our lives, literally!”, she tells me. While hordes of drones continue to rain down upon not just Kharkiv but all of Ukraine, everyone knows how much worse this could be without them.
In my own way, I’ve also come to realize this.
Just a few days prior to our embed on March 29th, a Shahed drone strike occurred just two blocks down from my apartment in Kharkiv at around 9:30 PM. Clean-up crews arrived the next morning to start clearing out and boarding up buildings affected by the attack. The crackling of shattered glass seemed to echo, but it was merely due to the fact that both the remains of windows above us were the same as the glass under our boots. While this particular drone was not responsible for taking a life, it managed to ruin the homes, businesses, and cars of the people around us.
Ivan, the owner of the On My Way coffee shop, recounted to me how he ushered his employees to safety inside the shop building not 10 seconds before a Shahed drone directly impacted the car he was previously driving in.
Ivan stands in front of the store the day after a drone struck his vehicle, which was parked outside. His shop windows are boarded both to cover up previous damage, and to prevent physical injury to customers from any flying glass or debris from potential future drone impacts. // Photo credit: Devin Woodall, March 30, 2025
Ivan happened to drive next to his shop on the day of the attack, and noticed the fiery trail of anti-aircraft tracer rounds soaring above him while the distinctive hum of a Shahed drone engine rang buzzed in his ear.
“It was too loud,” he explained. “I left my car, even with open doors; I ran to my coffee shop… I heard [the drone], very very loudly. And I told to my staff that it is too loud, we have to go inside of the building. Inside of the building it is safer.”
Luckily, Ivan’s employees reached safety, and nobody was injured in the attack. But these are the calculations the citizens of Kharkiv must make every day, similar calculations to those made by members of the 113th Phoenix Squad. In this sense, there is another sort of shared solidarity.
Bouncing down a bombed-out and crater-pocked road, I see this balance reflected in the beauty of Kharkiv oblast as it races past our car windows: swaths of farmland bound across rolling hills, forming a landscape broken up only by lines of trees and rows of ‘Dragon’s Teeth’ — the large, reinforced concrete bollards used to prevent enemy tanks from advancing through.
A week before my arrival to the position, Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelenskyy warned of forthcoming Russian offensives into the Sumy and Kharkiv oblasts. only a few days after my arrival at the position, the commander-in-chief of Ukraine’s armed forces, Oleksandr Syrskyi, would confirm that these offensives had effectively already begun.
The time Kharkiv oblast has spent under occupation is not something so easily forgotten by residents here. The Saltivka district of Kharkiv — home to some half a million people before the war — was one such place turned to rubble as Russians fought at the border of the city for control, matching the brutality and horror seen in other places such as Balakliya and Izyum. No, this is not forgotten, especially as the threat of Russian advance looms once more.
Evheniy, a soldier of the 113th Phoenix Squad, mans a stolen Russian chaingun. // Photo credit: Devin Woodall, April 4, 2025
When asked about the threat of another Russian offensive in Kharkiv, or even the potential occupation of Ukrainian land, I received a rather blunt response from Evheniy, a soldier of the 113th who accompanied us: “I would very much rather die than allow that to happen.”
I believe him.
Evheniy told us he survived occupation in Kozacha Lopan’, a village in northern Kharkiv oblast less than two miles (2.31 km) from the Russian border. “I don’t need Pushkin or Lermontov or Dostoevsky over here,” he said. “That’s not Russian culture; Russian culture is what I saw in occupation in Kozacha Lopan’… After seeing what they did there, I knew that I needed to enlist and to stop this from ever being anywhere else.”
“Stolen cannons on rusty trucks are his body.
His muscles are voluntary, and his purpose is clear.
He illuminates the night’s sky with his fiery breath so that he may protect those he loves.”
The Ashes
While the old Soviet ZU-23-3 is this battery’s main weapon, it is not their only one; the boys very proudly show off the chaingun mounted onto their truck. Stolen from the Russians in Chasiv Yar, it now serves as a tool and a trophy for this unit. Trucks like this move around the countryside constantly to hunt for Shahed drones, racing down these battered roads at night just looking for an opportunity to turn the hunter into the hunted. Large anti-drone guns aren’t always the best option, and different types of ammunition are seemingly constantly at risk of running out.
Misha posing in the back of the unit’s drone-hunter technical. // Photo credit: Devin Woodall, April 4, 2025
It is a hard balance to keep, as every single bullet is counted at the position, every shot is calculated, and a report is given up the chain of command after each mission. Aid to Ukraine has taken a massive hit in the past year and a half, while Russia’s allies are more than willing to hand over whatever is requested in a heartbeat.
This has caused the Ukrainians to be very creative in their use of weapons. As previously mentioned, many once-prominent military career paths are finding themselves forced into obsolescence in this era of warfare. Snipers and ground assault forces are far riskier than FPV drones for clearing a military position or taking out a target; they thus make an obvious candidate for replacement. However, even some of the most important roles in this war, such as artillery units, have found themselves cross-training on drones due to a lack of supply of the necessary ammunition and gunbarrels needed to fire accurately and effectively.
“Who could have imagined that some bird [drone] would become one of the main offensive weapons five years ago?,” mulled Commander Makhno, the man in charge of the Phoenix Squad. “It’s like, when we ran out of ammunition, we went a different route and brought toys into combat calculations, and now they are effective. A war of drones, as they say.”
Commander Makhno is a veteran of 2014, when Russia launched its initial invasion into Ukrainian territory. He is also a cyborg of the 93rd brigade — one of the brave service members who fought against all odds in the legendary battle of Donetsk airport. Makhno has seen this war evolve significantly in the time he’s spent serving his country.
Commander Makhno being interviewed on the ZU-23-3 twin autocannon. // Photo credit: Devin Woodall, April 4, 2025
Commanded by combat veterans, the Territorial Defense Force, including the 113th Phoenix Squad, was set up to train civilians into the warriors Ukraine needs to push back against the full-scale Russian invasion. This makes it different from regular enlistment in the Ukrainian Armed Forces. Although it does operate under the auspices of the UAF, the Territorial Defense Force is commonly seen as a grey zone between military and civilian, a reserve force which blurs the lines between regular and irregular — in other words, a militia. These fighters work in shifts and often operate in or around the city or oblast they call home. Because of this grey zone, Territorial Defense units like the 113th get far less state funding compared to their regular counterparts, and must often rely on the efforts of volunteers like Anastasiya. Despite these circumstances, territorial defense is just as vital to the war effort as any other unit.
“In the Armed Forces of Ukraine, there are formal positions, and they were filled as quickly as possible,” explained Commander Makhno. “But they weren’t enough for the scale, for the vast kilometers of borders violated by the aggressor [Russia]. New formations had to be created. And one of the solutions was to create territorial defense brigades. These were local people, patriotically minded and ready to take back what’s theirs and defend their home city, their country.”
The men of the 113th. // Photo credit: Devin Woodall, April 4, 2025
When asked about his thoughts on a ceasefire as a veteran of 2014, Commander Makhno simply chuckled. “Whatever is signed or said by representatives of the state, like Russia, is worth nothing… Absurd. It’s absurd. So giving some sort of reasonable answer to all of this — I wouldn’t want to, because I have just one task. My task is to defend my country. No matter what anyone signs, we will defend our country with weapons in our hands. That’s it.”
At the end of my interview, Commander Makhno gets up, shakes my hand, and pulls me into a hug. He hands me his 113th Brigade patch, offering to host me if I ever decide to come back one day, as a non-journalist, to shoot down Shaheds with him.
“While some are old and some are new, all parts of the Phoenix agree; the skies of above Kharkiv shall not be violated so easily.”
The Rise
As we wind down our embed, Anastasiya and I are offered some tea alongside Misha and Evheniy. Small moments like this won’t make headlines, but they are a blissfully dull change of pace.
A quiet moment with Evheniy and Misha. // Photo credit: Devin Woodall, April 4, 2025
Misha and Evheniy allow me to be the annoying photojournalist for a few moments, and I am soon asked to snap a quick photo of the group. Rising from his chair, Misha dons a smirk, sits, back down, and asks Anastasiya to sit down on his lap for the photo. She agrees, and he pulls her over. Evheniy scoffs and yells out: “You dog!” Laughter fills the tarp-covered room, and as soon as the four of us get over it, my camera’s shutter fires.
Group photo of Evheniy, Anastasiya, and Misha. // Photo credit: Devin Woodall, April 4, 2025
You would be forgiven, in this age of journalism, for not consciously remembering that there are more than just bodies in these uniforms. They are people with whom jokes fly, whose dreams are tightly held onto, and whose best years are spent fighting off a force hellbent on their destruction. At the end of the day they are human — same as you, same as me.
