‘I’m afraid he’ll catch cold
with lying on the damp grass,’
said Alice, who was
a very thoughtful little girl.
‘He’s dreaming now,’
said Tweedledee:
‘and what do you think
he’s dreaming about?’
Alice said, ‘Nobody
can guess that.’
‘Why, about you!’
Tweedledee exclaimed,
clapping his hands triumphantly.
‘And if he left off
dreaming about you,
where do you suppose you’d be?’
‘Where I am now,
of course,’ said Alice.
‘Not you!’ Tweedledee
retorted contemptuously.
‘You’d be nowhere.
Why, you’re only
a sort of thing
in his dream!’
In a cramped apartment.
In the ‘elves’ capital Kyiv.
A 30-year-old drone operator.
Who had recently returned.
From the front.
Unzipped a black case.
About the size of.
A pizza box.
Inside, there was.
A four-rotor drone.
He intended to fly.
Around the room.
He pressed buttons.
On the control unit.
And pushed the antenna.
To different positions.
Nothing happened.
“Sorry, not today.”
He said, with a smile.
The unit looked fine.
But something was broken.
At the front.
He was a pilot of.
First-person view drones.
Here she checked herself
in some alarm,
at hearing something
that sounded to her
like the puffing of
a large steam-engine
in the wood near them,
though she feared
These small.
Highly manoeuvrable drones.
Have front-facing cameras.
That allow them.
To be flown remotely.
Over the past year or so.
Bomb-laden FPVs.
Have become ubiquitous.
On the front lines in Ukraine.
Replacing the heavy weapons.
That characterized.
The war’s first phase.
The FPVs chase.
Armoured vehicles.
Hunt infantry units.
Through treelines.
And stalk individual soldiers.
To their deaths.
“You cannot hide.
From the FPV.”
“And to run is useless.
You try to be.
As calm as possible.
And you pray.”
like the puffing of
a large steam-engine
in the wood near them,
though she feared
it was more likely
to be a wild beast.
‘Are there any lions or tigers
about here?’ she asked timidly.
Even when an FPV.
Is too high to see clearly.
Or hidden behind foliage.
Soldiers can hear.
Its distinctive.
High-pitched whine.
“Bzzzzzzzzzz.
You are being hunted.”
After more than.
A year at the front.
He has returned home.
To the Kyiv apartment.
He shares with his wife.
But the sound of the drones.
Has followed him.
Everyday mechanical tools.
Like lawnmowers.
Motorcycles and.
Air conditioners remind him.
Of the FPVs.
That hunted him.
And his unit mates.
That hunted him.
And his unit mates.
it was more likely
to be a wild beast.
‘Are there any lions or tigers
about here?’ she asked timidly.
‘It’s only the Red King
snoring,’ said Tweedledee.
‘Come and look at him!’
the brothers cried,
And nature is.
Not an escape.
He can no longer hear.
The sound of bees and flies.
Buzzing near him.
Without a creeping panic.
“I don’t like to go.
Into nature anymore.”
“And hear this sound.
Because it reminds me.
So hard of the drones.”
So hard of the drones.”
Trauma associated.
With sound is not new.
– generations of soldiers.
Have been affected.
By sudden noises.
After returning to.
Civilian life.
But as the war in Ukraine.
But as the war in Ukraine.
Has evolved into a conflict.
Driven by drone technology.
The trauma has evolved with it.
‘It’s only the Red King
snoring,’ said Tweedledee.
‘Come and look at him!’
the brothers cried,
and they took each one of
Alice’s hands,
and led her up to where
the King was sleeping.
“Over the past year.
The majority of patients.
– if they are not physically wounded –
Have mental health injuries.”
“As a result of.
Being under drone activity.”
Said the chief psychiatrist.
At Kyiv’s military hospital.
“We call this droneophobia.”
Many thousands of men.
Are now returning.
From the front like him.
With acute stress disorders.
Associated with.
The sounds of drones.
The psychiatrist said.
The droneophobia can be.
Triggered by an array of.
Ordinary urban sounds.
Ordinary urban sounds.
– small motorcycles.
And scooters.
Lawnmowers.
Air conditioners –
Anything mechanical.
That whirrs.
“If it’s a moped.
Or a lawnmower.”
and they took each one of
Alice’s hands,
and led her up to where
the King was sleeping.
‘Isn’t he a lovely sight?’
said Tweedledum.
Alice couldn’t say
honestly that he was.
“My first thought is that.
It might be a drone.”
Said another returned.
Frontline soldier.
Who lost his arm.
In an FPV drone attack.
At the front line.
This man said.
The drones were.
A “permanent sound”.
“The sound of a shell lasts.
Just a few seconds.”
“But the sound of.
The drone is there.
Most of the time.”.
Most of the time.”.
“You can lay.
In your position.
In your foxhole.
And listen to it for hours.”
“I remember that sound.
All of the time.”
“I remember that sound.
All of the time.”
‘Isn’t he a lovely sight?’
said Tweedledum.
Alice couldn’t say
honestly that he was.
He had a tall
red night-cap on,
with a tassel, and
he was lying crumpled up
Or sometimes the problem.
Was the opposite – silence.
“Silence is always the start.”
The psychiatrist said.
“When the soldiers go on.
Rotation to combat positions.
They start listening carefully.
To make sure.”
“There are no drones.
There is constant tension.
Constant fear.
They are always looking up.”
In many cases.
That constant sense of tension.
Has not been dispelled by.
The return to civilian life.
Soldiers have been observed.
Suddenly switching off.
Lights at home.
Moving away from windows.
And hiding under furniture.
Later, if a soldier.
Is seen for treatment.
The psychiatrist describes.
How he often.
Has no memory.
Of any trigger sound.
But his wife or family member.
Will reveal that.
An extractor fan or.
Air conditioner had.
Just been turned on.
He had a tall
red night-cap on,
with a tassel, and
he was lying crumpled up
into a sort of untidy heap,
and snoring loud
– ‘fit to snore his head off!’
as Tweedledum remarked.
Soldiers from.
The earlier phases of the war.
– which was characterised more.
By brutal, direct combat –
Came home fearful.
Of being in forests.
Where much of the fighting.
Had taken place.
But drone warfare has.
Reversed the phenomenon.
Now soldiers “feel safest.
In forests.”
“Under dense tree canopies.”
The psychiatrist said.
“And in their free time.
They try to avoid wooded areas.”
Here she checked herself
in some alarm,
at hearing something
that sounded to her
like the puffing of
a large steam-engine
in the wood near them,
though she feared
For the soldiers.
Coming back from the front.
Like him.
The drones have created.
A new and specific.
Type of fear.
One that is not.
Easy to shake.
“You see the world.
As a battlefield.
It can become.
A battlefield any second.”
And of all the triggers.
Hearing – the human sense.
Drones are exploiting.
So effectively –
Was the most insidious.
He said.
“When you see something.
Your brain can check it.”
“Your brain can check it.
In a second.
You can realise.
What it is very fast.”
“But an unknown sound.
Is different.
Your brain has been changed.
You cannot ignore it.”
“You cannot ignore it.
You must respond.
Because at the front line.
It could save your life.”
‘I’m afraid he’ll catch cold
with lying on the damp grass,’
said Alice, who was
a very thoughtful little girl.
‘He’s dreaming now,’
said Tweedledee:
‘and what do you think
he’s dreaming about?’
Alice said, ‘Nobody
can guess that.’
‘Why, about you!’
Tweedledee exclaimed,
clapping his hands triumphantly.
‘And if he left off
dreaming about you,
where do you suppose you’d be?’
‘Where I am now,
of course,’ said Alice.
‘Not you!’ Tweedledee
retorted contemptuously.
‘You’d be nowhere.
Why, you’re only
a sort of thing
in his dream!’
*Because I read “They escaped Ukraine’s front lines. The sound of drones followed them” by Joel Gunter on 2 Aug 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 Pavlo, a story of Dr Andriichenko, and a story of Savur, led by ‘THROUGH the LOOKING-GLASS’ written by Lewis Carroll, you know.
Please read the original story on the BBC news:
They escaped Ukraine’s front lines. The sound of drones followed them
