WAKA is 'the music of the Primes'.

A man, 42.

The chain-smoking commander.

Of a drone unit.

Does battle every night.

 

Does battle every night.

Fuelled by.

“Non-Stop”.

– an ‘elves’ energy drink.

 

He is with.

The 68th “Jaeger” Brigade.

Fighting to hold on.

To the eastern front-line city.

 

Of Pokrovsk.

– a key transportation hub.

The ‘orcs’ are closing in.

On two sides.

 

 

‘Elves’ troops send.

Supersized attack drones.

Into combat in the skies.

As the ‘orcs’ inch forward.

 

 

He drives you.

To an ‘elves’ position.

– a journey you can only.

Risk after dark.

 

And in an armoured car.

The ‘orcs’ too.

Have eyes.

In the skies.

 

Their drones are.

A constant threat.

He is watchful.

And weary.

 

“I went to.

The enlistment office.

In the first days.

And I hoped.”

 

“Everything would go quickly.

Honestly, I am tired.

Time off is rare.”

In his case.

 

A total of 40 days.

In three years.

“Honestly, I am tired.

Time off is rare.”

 

“The only thing.

That saves me is that.

I can video chat.

With my family.”

 

 

‘Elves’ troops send.

Supersized attack drones.

Into combat in the skies.

As the ‘orcs’ inch forward.

 

 

You arrive at.

A disused house where.

He and his men unload.

Their equipment.

 

And set up.

A pop-up drone position.

Screens are carried in.

And cables connected.

 

Outside, troops erect.

An antenna taller than.

A two-story building.

They work fast.

 

Under torchlight.

– using red beams.

Not white as these are.

Harder to detect.

 

Then they assemble.

Bombs to arm.

Their “vampire”.

– a supersized attack drone.

 

 

‘Elves’ troops send.

Supersized attack drones.

Into combat in the skies.

As the ‘orcs’ inch forward.

 

 

For the next few hours.

You have front-row seats.

As he pilots.

The drone.

 

His eyes darting.

From screen to screen.

First, he drops supplies.

To front-line ‘elves’ troops.

 

And then drops.

An anti-tank mine.

On ‘orcs’ forces.

Underground.

 

It falls slightly.

Wide of its target.

He is up against.

High winds and.

 

‘Orcs’ jamming.

All the while.

He is on the look-out.

For incoming enemy drones.

 

 

‘Elves’ troops send.

Supersized attack drones.

Into combat in the skies.

As the ‘orcs’ inch forward.

 

 

He detects.

An ‘orcs’ warplane.

In the skies.

Minutes later.

 

You hear.

The distinct thud of.

Three ‘orcs’ glide bombs.

“It’s far,” he tells you.

 

That turns out.

To mean two to.

Three kilometres away.

“It’s far,” he tells you.

 

 

‘Elves’ troops send.

Supersized attack drones.

Into combat in the skies.

As the ‘orcs’ inch forward.

 

 

During a lull.

You ask him if.

He thinks a peace deal.

Is possible.

 

“Maybe not.

‘The One’ is a completely.

Unstable person.

And that’s putting it.”

 

“And that’s putting it.

Very gently.

I hope that at some stage.

The enemy will stop.”

 

“Because they tire out.

Or someone with.

A sound mind.

Comes to power.”

 

 

‘Elves’ troops send.

Supersized attack drones.

Into combat in the skies.

As the ‘orcs’ inch forward.

 

 

While he is.

A veteran of this war.

One of his men.

Is a beginner.

 

The twenty-four-year-old.

Joined up last September.

As the ‘orcs’ neared.

His hometown.

 

He now spends.

His time handling explosives.

– though he would prefer to be.

At college learning languages.

 

 

‘Elves’ troops send.

Supersized attack drones.

Into combat in the skies.

As the ‘orcs’ inch forward.

 

 

“No-one knows.

How long the war will last.

Maybe not even.

The politicians.”

 

“I would like it.

To end soon so that.

Civilians won’t suffer.

And people won’t die anymore.”

 

“But considering.

How things are now.

On the front line.

It won’t be soon.”

 

He believes that.

If the guns are silenced.

It will be only a pause.

Before ‘orcs’ come back for more.

 

 

‘Elves’ troops send.

Supersized attack drones.

Into combat in the skies.

As the ‘orcs’ inch forward.

 

 

The winds get stronger.

And the vampire drone.

Crash-lands.

It’s out of action for now.

 

The unit pack up.

And leave.

As fast as they came.

They will be.

 

Back in action.

At nightfall.

Resuming the duels.

In the sky.

 

 

*Because I read “’War will last as long as Russia does’: Ukrainian talk of victory fades as Trump returns” by Orla Guerin on 17 Jan 2025, and also “Why are Ukrainians calling Russians ‘orcs’?” by James FitzGerald on 30 Apr 2022, on the BBC news.
So, I wrote this poem, including a story of Mykhailo and David.
Please read the original story on the BBC news:

Ukrainians’ hopes and concerns as Trump presidency nears