By Eric Vandenbroeck and co-workers
Ukraine’s summer
counteroffensive has moved more slowly than many of the country’s allies and supporters
had hoped. The Ukrainian military has proved remarkably adept at rapidly
incorporating new capabilities and technologies into its operations, fighting
bravely and, for the most part, effectively against an enemy with superior
numbers, little regard for its losses, and no regard for the laws of war.
Progress has been gradual, and every piece of liberated territory has come at
an immense cost. Only after three months of grueling combat has Ukraine started
to make more significant progress, penetrating some of Russia’s entrenched
defensive lines in the country’s southeast and reclaiming territory in the provinces of
Zaporizhzhia and Donetsk.
Some analysts have
attributed the counteroffensive’s slow pace to the challenges of successfully
executing joint military maneuvers or coordinating artillery, infantry, and air
power. Others have questioned whether the training the United States and NATO have
provided—focused on conducting fast offensive operations rather than wearing
the Russian military down through attrition—was well suited to the type of
enemy and war the Ukrainians are fighting. Still, others have argued that
Kyiv’s Western allies have been too slow to provide weapons and equipment,
which delayed the Ukrainian counteroffensive and allowed Russia to fortify its
positions and mine large swaths of contested territory. Finally, the
Ukrainian military is not a NATO-style force, and the armed forces’ legacy and
doctrine remain, in part, beholden to the Soviet army regarding how it
organizes, mobilizes, and sustains itself. Although this is not necessarily a
weakness, it does require that Ukraine’s Western allies reconsider what types of
weapons, equipment, and training would enable Ukraine to fight the way it
fights best.
Still, the Ukrainian
military's challenges stem from more than its actions and decisions and those
of its Western allies and partners. They also reflect Russia’s changing
behavior. The Kremlin did not learn from its mistakes for the conflict's first
six to nine months. But in the time since, the Russian armed forces have been
improving their battlefield tactics—albeit slowly and at significant cost in
lives and resources. They have learned how to effectively target Ukrainian
units and weapons and protect their command systems. As a result, Russia has
been better able to leverage its numerical and firepower advantages, turning
what many had hoped would be a swift offensive push into a sluggish, brutal,
and tough fight.
Pain And Gain
A year and a half into
the war, Russia’s military is bruised and weary. Its leadership, headed by
Defense Minister Sergei Shoigu and General Valery Gerasimov, seems either
missing in action or busy keeping bad news about the war from reaching Russian
President Vladimir Putin. At least half, perhaps even two-thirds, of
the combat-ready tanks Russia had reserved for the war are gone, forcing the
Kremlin to dip into its Soviet-era reserves.
Much of Russia’s other military equipment—including armored vehicles,
artillery systems, and electronic warfare systems—has been captured, damaged,
or destroyed; some systems are so decrepit that they barely function. Russia's
most expensive and sophisticated weapons, including hypersonic and high-precision
missiles, are being used to target civilian infrastructure, depleting precious
stocks that will be hard to replenish amid sanctions. Russia’s troops,
meanwhile, are poorly trained, low on morale, and sometimes forced to fight.
Some are fresh out of prison, and some are on drugs. After the late Wagner
mercenary chief Yevgeny Prigozhin’s failed rebellion in July, many analysts
have speculated that the Russian military will face mass military desertions,
mutinies, and even a catastrophic collapse.
But as battered and
inefficient as it is, Russia’s military can still learn and adapt. This process
has been slow, painful, expensive, and cumbersome—but it is happening and
showing results. Consider, for instance, how Russia has revitalized its
electronic warfare capabilities. For over a decade, Moscow had been modernizing
these systems, which it used significantly in Syria and its initial 2014
invasion of eastern Ukraine. Yet after Russia deployed
them against Ukraine’s ground-based air defense systems in the first two days
of its February 2022 invasion, these systems and capabilities essentially went
missing. It is unclear why Russia failed to capitalize on this seeming
advantage. Still, experts pointed to Moscow’s broader failure to plan for the
invasion, the Russian military’s poor coordination, and the fact that it would
severely disrupt its communications using electronic jammers.
But when the war shifted
to the Donbas late in the spring of 2022, Russia began ramping up its use of
electronic warfare systems. It deployed about ten electronic warfare
complexes—collections of methods used to jam an enemy’s communications, disrupt
navigation systems, and knock out its radars—for every 12.4 miles of the
frontline. Over time, that ratio has fallen—with approximately one central
system covering roughly every six miles of the front, with additional
electronic warfare assets deployed as needed to reinforce its units.
These systems still have
problems, including relatively limited coverage and an inability to avoid
affecting one another. But on the whole, they have proved tremendously
valuable, helping Russia degrade Ukraine’s communications, navigation, and
intelligence-gathering capabilities, take down Ukrainian aircraft and drones,
and cause Ukrainian precision-guided munitions to miss their targets. Russia
has also used them to block Ukrainian drones from transmitting targeting
information, to augment Russian air defense networks and capabilities, and to
intercept and decrypt Ukrainian military communications. And thus far, Ukraine
has had limited success countering these enhanced Russian capabilities.
Just as it resurrected
its electronic warfare assets, the Russian military reconstituted its
command-and-control infrastructure and processes, devastated by U.S.-supplied
High Mobility Artillery Rocket Systems and other Ukrainian long-range precision
missiles over the summer of 2022. In the process, Russia has made several
relatively rudimentary but successful overall changes, including pulling its
command headquarters out of range of Ukrainian surface-to-air missiles, placing
its forward command posts farther below ground and behind heavily defended
positions, and fortifying them with concrete. Russia has also found ways to
ensure that communications between command posts and military units are more
efficient and secure, including by laying out field cables and using safer
radio communications. But communications at the battalion level and downward
are still often unencrypted, and given their limited training, Russian soldiers
frequently communicate sensitive information through unsecured channels.
Trial By Fire
From the start of the
war through last summer, the Russian military was organized into so-called
battalion tactical groups—essentially, formations of artillery, tanks, and
infantry that were grouped to improve readiness and cohesion. In Ukraine,
this force structure proved disastrous. Most of the battalion tactical groups
were undermanned, especially the infantry units critical to fighting in urban
terrain, where some of the war’s early crucial battles took place. They were
also generally not well prepared, staffed, or equipped for a prolonged ground
offensive or for holding territory.
But in the second half
of 2022, as the conflict devolved into a war of attrition, mounting casualties
compelled the country’s military leaders to change their approach. They revised
their infantry tactics and consolidated their artillery into specialized
brigades, consolidating their firepower and using drones to coordinate and
effectively target their artillery strikes. These adjustments positioned the
Russian military to exploit its two primary advantages over Ukraine: personnel
and firepower.
The shift in infantry
tactics was partly enabled by the arrival of conscripts from inside Russia,
inside the so-called Donetsk and Luhansk People’s Republics, and prisoners
drafted by the Wagner paramilitary company. These troops were not well trained
or organized, and they have mainly been used as cannon fodder in consecutive
waves of assaults on Ukrainian positions. But however brutal and cynical, this
approach enabled Russia to defend its fortified positions better and withstand
the Ukrainian counteroffensive even as it suffered thousands of casualties. It
also forced supporting Ukrainian troops to reveal their positions and exhaust
their ammunition and personnel. It allows more specialized Russian units, such
as airborne and naval infantry, to fight from well-defended positions with
improved equipment and weapons. As a result, these better-trained and -equipped
troops have been able to rotate in and out of action, and they have been spared
significant losses in recent months after bearing heavier costs in the war’s
early stages.
Alongside manpower, the
ability to saturate targets with heavy artillery fire, whether to strike
defensive positions or to blunt offensive maneuvers, has traditionally been one
of the Russian military’s greatest strengths. That firepower advantage, however,
was primarily lost early in the war when the Russian army was deployed in
battalion tactical groups. The country’s artillery strikes were poorly
directed, the military was slow to respond, and it was too dispersed and
unprepared to maneuver across the multiple throngs of attack. As the war
shifted to the Donbas, the static nature of fighting compelled the Russian
military leadership to consolidate artillery into brigades. This move helped
improve coordination and concentrate firepower in a way that is better aligned
with Russia’s traditional doctrine.
But the Russian army was
still burning through ammunition faster than Russian factories could produce.
These shortages were compounded by successful Ukrainian strikes on Russian
ammunition stockpiles across the Donbas in the second part of 2022. Facing ammunition
constraints and still reeling from the loss of many artillery pieces and
experienced crews, the Russians have been forced to become more efficient in
their use of ammunition, improve the mobility of weapons to avoid destruction,
and find ways to target Ukrainian troops more effectively.
One adoption has been
tightening the link between its reconnaissance systems and the soldiers
carrying out attacks, allowing the Russian military to hit Ukrainian troops,
command centers, and equipment and ammunition hubs faster and more accurately.
Russia also increasingly uses relatively cheap Lancet loitering munitions or
explosive drones to thwart Ukrainian advances by destroying expensive military
equipment, such as air defense systems. These strikes sometimes deliver
propaganda value for Russia, yielding videos that show the destruction of
valuable Ukrainian assets that can be broadcast on television or social media.
Old Dog, New Tricks
Despite the notable changes
and improvements over the past year, there are still many areas in which
Russia’s military continues to perform poorly or is failing altogether. The
Russian armed forces cannot horizontally integrate their command and control,
communicate commanders’ decisions, and share information across different units
in real-time. As a result, Russian units deployed in proximity cannot
effectively communicate with one another if they belong to other formations.
Often, they cannot support one another because they have separate chains of
command.
This is not a technical
glitch or a bureaucratic barrier. Instead, it is a deep structural problem
unlikely to be solved without a systemic overhaul of Russia’s military and
perhaps even its political system. Military command-and-control culture boils
down to trust, and the armies of authoritarian regimes such as Russia
frequently have rigid and fragmented command-and-control structures because the
political leadership does not authorize the military leadership, and the
military brass does not trust the rank and file. Such systems fail to
successfully share information, discourage initiative, and prevent battlefield
lessons from informing strategy or being incorporated into future military
doctrine.
These structural
deficiencies are part of the Russian military’s DNA. They help explain why some
of the hardest lessons Russia learned in other conflicts—in Chechnya, for
instance, about the difficulties of urban warfare, and in Syria, about the benefits
of flexible and responsive command and control—are being learned anew in
Ukraine after staggering losses in personnel and equipment. The Russian
military is learning and adapting, but whether it is capable of real
transformational change remains to be seen.
Russia’s learning is
not Kyiv’s only obstacle. The slow pace of Ukraine’s counteroffensive also
partly reflects the inherent difficulties of conducting large-scale joint
offensive military operations against an entrenched enemy and the delays in
getting the right weapons and materiel to the forces on the ground. But the
adjustments Russia’s military has made are also hindering Ukrainian progress.
These challenges and adjustments
do not mean that Ukraine’s counteroffensive is failing; they certainly do not
mean Russia is poised to win. Instead, they suggest that Ukraine will need
patience from its partners as it tries to wear down its enemy. The West will
need to recalibrate its expectations to match reality, which is that this is a
war of attrition. In the near term, NATO states must continue transferring
weapons and other capabilities to Ukraine. They will also need to give Kyiv
political and military support for the long term. More than anything, what
Ukraine needs right now is time.
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