Six Meters Under the Earth, a Secret Hospital Cares for Ukrainian Soldiers Wounded by Russian Unmanned Aerial Vehicles
Scrubby foliage hide the entrance. A sloping wooden passageway descends to a brightly lit welcome zone. Inside lies a surgery unit, outfitted with gurneys, heart rate sensors and ventilators. And shelves full of healthcare supplies, drugs and organized stacks of extra garments. Within a break area with a washing machine and hot water heater, doctors monitor a screen. The screen reveals the movements of enemy surveillance UAVs as they weave in the sky above.
Hospital personnel at an underground hospital look at a screen showing Russian kamikaze and surveillance UAVs in the region.
Welcome to the nation's covert below-ground hospital. This center began operations in the eighth month and is the second of its kind, located in the eastern part of the country close to the frontline and the city of a key location in Donetsk oblast. “We are six meters under the earth. This is the safest method of providing help to our injured soldiers. And it keeps medical personnel protected,” stated the facility's lead doctor, Maj Oleksandr Holovashchenko.
The stabilisation point treats thirty to forty patients a each day. Cases differ widely. Some have devastating limb trauma requiring amputations, or severe abdominal injuries. Others can walk. The vast majority are the casualties of Russian FPV drones, which release explosives with lethal precision. “90% of our cases are from first-person view drones. We see minimal gunshot wounds. It’s an era of unmanned aircraft and a new type of conflict,” the doctor explained.
Major Oleksandr Holovashchenko at the underground installation for caring for injured soldiers in the eastern region.
On one afternoon recently, three military members limped into the facility. The least severely hurt, 28-year-old one soldier, said an FPV blast had ripped a small hole in his leg. “War is horrific. The guy beside me, a fellow soldier, was killed,” he said. “He collapsed. Then the Russians dropped a another explosive on him.” He added: “Everything in the village is demolished. We see UAVs everywhere and casualties. Ours and theirs.”
Dvorskyi said his squad spent 43 days in a forest area close to the city, which Russia has been attempting to capture since last year. The only way to reach their position was by walking. Necessary provisions came by drone: rations and water. A week after he was injured, he traveled 5km (roughly three miles), taking several hours, to where an military transport was able to pick him up. At the clinic, a medic assessed his vital signs. After treatment, a nurse gave him fresh civilian clothes: a shirt and a pair of light-colored denim trousers.
Artem Dvorskiy, twenty-eight, stated a first-person view drone ripped a small hole in his leg.
A different casualty, 38-year-old Pavlo Filipchuk, said a drone blast had resulted in concussion. “My position was in a dugout. It suddenly became black. I couldn’t feel anything or any sound,” he said. “I believe I was lucky to remain alive. A relative has been killed. We face ongoing detonations.” A construction worker employed in a neighboring country, he said he had come back to Ukraine and volunteered to fight shortly before Vladimir Putin’s full-scale invasion in early 2022.
A third soldier, Taras Mykolaichuk, had been hit in the upper body. He groaned as doctors placed him on a bed, took off a stained bandage and cleaned his recent injury from fragments. Wrapped in a foil blanket, he used a mobile phone to call his family member. “A fragment of mortar struck me. It was a deflected projectile. I’m OK,” he told her. What comes next for him? “To get better. This may require a few months. Subsequently, to go back to my military group. Our forces must defend our nation,” he affirmed.
Medical staff treat the wounded soldier, who was injured in the dorsal area by a piece of mortar.
Since 2022, enemy forces has repeatedly attacked medical centers, health facilities, obstetric units and ambulances. Per international monitors, 261 medical personnel have been fatally attacked in almost 2,000 assaults. The underground facility is built from multiple reinforced shelters, with timber beams, earth and granular material placed above up to ground level. It is designed to resist impacts from 152mm projectiles and even multiple 8kg TNT charges dropped by drone.
The Ukrainian industrial group, which funded the construction, plans to erect twenty facilities in all. A senior official of Ukraine’s national security council and former military leader, the official, declared they would be “vitally essential for preserving the survival of our armed forces and supporting troops on the battlefront.” The organization referred to the project as the “largest-scale and demanding” it had implemented after the enemy's invasion.
An example of the centre’s operating theatres.
Holovashchenko, said certain wounded personnel had to wait many hours or even multiple days before they could be evacuated because of the threat of air assaults. “Our facility received two critically ill casualties who came at the early hours. I had to carry out a removal of both limbs on a patient. His bleeding control device had been applied for so long there was no other option.” How did he cope with severe surgeries? “My career in medicine for two decades. One must focus,” he said.
Medical assistants wheeled the soldier through the tunnel and into an ambulance. The transport was parked under a bush. He and the two other military members were taken to the city of a major city for additional medical care. The underground medical team took a break. The hospital’s orange feline, Vasilevs, padded up to the doorway to greet the incoming patients. “Our facility operates open 24 hours a day,” the surgeon stated. “The work is continuous.”