Scrubby foliage conceal the entryway. One descending timber tunnel leads down to a well-illuminated welcome zone. There is a operating ward, equipped with beds, heart rate sensors and ventilators. And shelves stocked of healthcare supplies, medications and neat piles of extra garments. In a staff room with a laundry appliance and kettle, physicians monitor a screen. The screen reveals the flight patterns of enemy spy drones as they zigzag in the air above.
Medical personnel at an subterranean medical center look at a monitor displaying Russian kamikaze and reconnaissance UAVs in the area.
This is the nation's covert underground hospital. This center opened in August and is the second such installation, situated in eastern Ukraine not far from the frontline and the urban area of a key location in Donetsk oblast. “We are 6 metres under the ground. It’s the safest way of providing help to our injured military personnel. It also ensures medical personnel safe,” said the clinic’s surgeon, Major the chief surgeon.
This medical station handles thirty to forty patients a each day. Their conditions vary. Certain individuals suffer from catastrophic limb trauma requiring surgical removal, or serious abdominal injuries. Some patients can move on their own. The vast majority are the casualties of enemy FPV drones, which release explosives with deadly precision. “Ninety per cent of our patients are from FPVs. We see minimal bullet injuries. It’s an age of unmanned aircraft and a different kind of conflict,” the doctor said.
Major Oleksandr Holovashchenko at the subterranean facility for treating injured troops in the eastern region.
On one day last week, three soldiers walked with difficulty into the hospital. The least severely hurt, 28-year-old one soldier, reported an FPV blast had ripped a small hole in his limb. “Conflict is terrible. The guy next to me, a fellow soldier, was killed,” he said. “He fell down. Then the Russians dropped a second explosive on him.” He added: “All structures in the village is destroyed. We see drones everywhere and casualties. Ours and theirs.”
The soldier said his unit spent 43 days in a forest area near the city, which enemy forces has been trying to seize for many months. Sole access to get to their position was on foot. Necessary provisions arrived by drone: food and drinking water. A week after he was hurt, he walked 5km (roughly three miles), taking three hours, to a point where an military transport was able to pick him up. At the clinic, a medic assessed his vital signs. After treatment, a medical attendant gave him fresh civilian clothes: a shirt and a pair of pale denim trousers.
The soldier, twenty-eight, said a FPV drone ripped a small hole in his lower limb.
A different casualty, 38-year-old a serviceman, said a UAV explosion had resulted in a head injury. “My position was in a trench shelter. Suddenly it became black. I couldn’t feel anything or any sound,” he said. “I think I was fortunate to survive. A relative has been lost. We face continuous detonations.” A construction worker working in Lithuania, Filipchuk said he had come back to Ukraine and enlisted to fight shortly before the Russian leader's large-scale attack in early 2022.
Another military member, Taras Mykolaichuk, had been struck in the back. He groaned as medical staff placed him on a medical cot, removed a stained bandage and cleaned his two-day-old shrapnel wound. Wrapped in a thermal sheet, he used a mobile phone to ring his family member. “A piece of artillery struck me. It was a deflected projectile. My condition is stable,” he informed her. What were his plans now? “To recover. This may require a several months. After that, to return to my unit. Someone must protect our country,” he affirmed.
Medical staff treat Taras Mykolaichuk, who was injured in the dorsal area by a fragment of artillery shell.
Over the past years, Russia has repeatedly attacked hospitals, clinics, obstetric units and emergency vehicles. According to international monitors, over two hundred medical personnel have been killed in almost 2,000 attacks. This subterranean hospital is built from multiple reinforced shelters, with wooden supports, earth and sand placed above reaching ground level. It can withstand impacts from 152mm projectiles and even three eight-kilogram TNT charges released by aerial means.
A major industrial group, which funded the construction, plans to build 20 facilities in total. A senior official of Ukraine’s national security council and ex- defence minister, Rustem Umerov, declared they would be “critically essential for preserving the survival of our military and supporting troops on the battlefront.” The company described the initiative as the “most ambitious and challenging” it had undertaken after the enemy's military offensive.
An example of the facility's surgical rooms.
Holovashchenko, said some wounded personnel had to wait hours or even days before they could be evacuated because of the danger of air assaults. “Our facility received a pair of critically ill patients who arrived at the early hours. I had to carry out a double amputation on a patient. His bleeding control device had been on for such an extended period there was no other option.” How did he cope with severe operations? “I’ve been healthcare for 20 years. You have to concentrate,” he remarked.
Orderlies transported Mykolaichuk up the tunnel and into an ambulance. The vehicle was stationed under a shrub. The patient and the two other soldiers were taken to the city of Dnipro for further treatment. The subterranean hospital staff paused for rest. The facility's ginger cat, Vasilevs, padded toward the doorway to greet the incoming patients. “Our facility operates active 24 hours a day,” the surgeon said. “It doesn’t stop.”
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