‘Tweedledum and Tweedledee
Agreed to have a battle;
For Tweedledum said Tweedledee
Had spoiled his nice new rattle.
Just then flew down a monstrous crow,
As black as a tar-barrel;
Which frightened both the heroes so,
They quite forgot their quarrel.’
“We’re like a red rag.
To the enemy.
Because we’re taking the war.
To their territory.”
“So that they feel it too.”
The ‘elf’ soldier says.
As his unit.
Scramble to assemble.
Long-range drones.
For launch at ‘Mordor’.
“We’re like a red rag.
To the enemy.”
It was getting dark
so suddenly that
Alice thought there must be
a thunderstorm coming on.
‘What a thick black cloud
that is!’ she said.
‘And how fast it comes!
Why, I do believe it’s got wings!’
Ukraine has been intensifying.
Its deep strikes.
Its deep strikes.
Like this for several weeks.
Targeting oil export facilities.
In particular.
Targeting oil export facilities.
Like never before.
‘It’s the crow!’
Tweedledum cried out
in a shrill voice
of alarm:
and the two brothers
took to their heels
and were out of sight
in a moment.
The commander of.
All ‘elves’ unmanned systems.
Has said such attacks.
Will escalate and.
Claimed his drone forces.
Are also holding back.
‘Orcs’ advance along.
The frontline.
By killing.
A record number of soldiers.
By killing.
A record number of soldiers.
Alice ran a little way
into the wood,
and stopped
under a large tree.
‘It can never get at me here,’
she thought:
‘it’s far too large to squeeze
Itself in among the trees.
“1,500 to 2,000km.
Inside ‘orcs’ territory is.
No longer the ‘peaceful rear’.”
He warns.
“The freedom-loving.
‘Elves’ ‘bird’ flies there.
Whenever and wherever.
It wants.”
But I wish it wouldn’t
flap its wings so
– it makes quite a hurricane
in the wood –
here’s somebody’s shawl
being blown away!’
here’s somebody’s shawl
being blown away!’
At the secret launch site.
A drizzly field.
A drizzly field.
In eastern Ukraine.
The long-range drones.
Are primed and.
You’re ordered back.
To a safe distance.
‘You know,’ he added very gravely.
‘it’s one of the most serious things
that can possibly happen
to one in a battle
– to get one’s head cut off.’
Alice laughed loud:
but she managed to turn it
into a cough,
The team work quickly.
Before ‘orcs’ forces.
Before ‘orcs’ forces.
Can detect them.
And send ballistic missiles.
Hurtling towards you.
And send ballistic missiles.
Hurtling towards you.
– to get one’s head cut off.’
Alice laughed loud:
but she managed to turn it
into a cough,
for fear of hurting his feelings.
‘Do I look very pale?’
said Tweedledum, coming up
to have his helmet tied on.
There’s a shouted command.
Loud revs of an engine.
And a flash of white.
And a flash of white.
As the first device.
Tears into the sky.
Towards ‘Mordor’.
Like a mini jet plane.
for fear of hurting his feelings.
‘Do I look very pale?’
said Tweedledum, coming up
to have his helmet tied on.
(He called it a helmet,
though it certainly looked
much more like a saucepan.)
‘Well – yes – a little,’
‘Gandalf the Green’ calls.
Such deep strikes.
“Very painful”.
To ‘Mordor’.
Causing “critical” losses.
Running to tens of.
Billions of dollars.
In its energy sector.
Despite the recent surge.
In global oil prices.
Despite the recent surge.
In global oil prices.
(He called it a helmet,
though it certainly looked
much more like a saucepan.)
‘Well – yes – a little,’
Alice replied gently.
‘I’m very brave generally,’
he went on in a low voice:
‘only to-day I happen to have a headache.’
The increase in such attacks.
Is partly down.
Is partly down.
To technology.
Locally produced drones.
Are becoming cheaper.
And flying further:
The model you see launch.
Can now travel.
More than 1,000km.
And others already.
Go twice as far.
Alice replied gently.
‘I’m very brave generally,’
he went on in a low voice:
‘only to-day I happen to have a headache.’
‘And I’ve got a toothache!’
said Tweedledee,
who had overheard the remark.
‘I’m far worse than you!’
But it’s also about focus.
In addition to military.
Personnel and production.
‘Orcs’ energy exports.
‘Orcs’ energy exports.
Have been identified.
As a priority target.
As a priority target.
‘And I’ve got a toothache!’
said Tweedledee,
who had overheard the remark.
‘I’m far worse than you!’
‘Then you’d better not fight to-day,’
said Alice thinking it
a good opportunity
to make a peace.
“‘The One’ extracts.
Natural resources and.
Converts them.
Into blood dollars.”
“That they then direct.
Against us in the form of.
Shahed drones.
And ballistic missiles.”
“Shahed drones.
And ballistic missiles.”
Says the commander.
Justifying the strikes.
‘Then you’d better not fight to-day,’
said Alice thinking it
a good opportunity
to make a peace.
‘We must have a bit of a fight,
but I don’t care about
going on long,’
said Tweedledum.
Residents in Tuapse.
On ‘orcs’ Black Sea coast.
Complain of toxic rain.
After a second wave.
Of major strikes.
On the local refinery.
In several days.
But the commander is dry-eyed.
“If oil refineries.
Are a tool.
To make money.
That’s used for war.”
“That’s used for war.
Then they are.
A legitimate military target.
Subject to destruction.”
‘We must have a bit of a fight,
but I don’t care about
going on long,’
said Tweedledum.
‘What’s the time now?’
Tweedledee looked at
his watch, and said
‘Half past four.’
The commander wages.
War in the skies.
From a secret location.
Deep underground.
You’re taken.
To meet him.
In a van.
With blacked out windows.
Then led down stairs.
And along corridors.
Lined with sleeping pods.
To emerge.
Into a high-tech cavern.
Covered in screens.
From floor to ceiling.
From floor to ceiling.
‘What’s the time now?’
Tweedledee looked at
his watch, and said
‘Half past four.’
‘Let’s fight till six,
and then have dinner,’
said Tweedledum.
‘Very well,’ the other said,
The soundtrack is.
A series of bleeps.
And pings.
As fresh data is fed.
To dozens of men.
In T-shirts and hoodies.
Hunched over joysticks.
And keyboards.
They’re monitoring.
Images streamed.
Directly from the battlefield.
From drone pilots.
‘Let’s fight till six,
and then have dinner,’
said Tweedledum.
‘Very well,’ the other said,
rather sadly:
‘and she can watch us
– only you’d better not come
very close,’ he added:
The commander’s.
Unmanned Systems Forces.
make up just 2%.
Of ‘elves’ military.
But these days.
He says they account.
For a third of.
All targets destroyed.
Their own casualty rate.
He tells you.
Is no secret:
Less than 1% per year.
rather sadly:
‘and she can watch us
– only you’d better not come
very close,’ he added:
‘I generally hit everything
I can see
– when I get really excited.’
– when I get really excited.’
Each strike.
– of any kind –
Is filmed for verification.
And logged.
And monitors on.
One wall display.
A detailed scorecard.
Updated in real time.
‘I generally hit everything
I can see
– when I get really excited.’
– when I get really excited.’
‘And I hit everything
within reach,’ cried Tweedledum,
‘whether I can see it or not.’
Alice laughed.
In the past week.
He has reported.
Hitting a dozen ‘orcs’.
FSB security service officers.
In occupied territory.
As well as multiple.
Energy facilities.
In ‘Mordor’ itself.
‘And I hit everything
within reach,’ cried Tweedledum,
‘whether I can see it or not.’
Alice laughed.
‘You must hit the trees pretty often,
I should think,’ she said.
Tweedledum looked round him
with a satisfied smile.
He argues that.
His forces are critical.
To denying ‘the One’.
Any headline victories.
Especially his aim of.
Seizing the rest of.
The eastern Donbas region.
Within months.
“What is he smoking?”
He is curt.
“That’s not realistic.
It’s absurd.”
‘You must hit the trees pretty often,
I should think,’ she said.
Tweedledum looked round him
with a satisfied smile.
‘I don’t suppose,’ he said.
‘there’ll be a tree left standing,
for ever so far round,
by the time we’ve finished!’
Four years ago.
He was more comfortable.
In auction houses like.
Christie’s than filthy trenches.
A well-off grain dealer.
In those days.
With a sideline.
As an art collector.
Fragments of.
His pre-war life.
Survive in the paintings.
And sculptures.
By ‘elves’ artists.
Dotted around the bunker.
They’re displayed beside.
Missile casings and captured drones.
‘I don’t suppose,’ he said.
‘there’ll be a tree left standing,
for ever so far round,
by the time we’ve finished!’
‘And all about a rattle!’
said Alice still hoping
to make them a little ashamed
of fighting for such a trifle.
He’s an ethnic Hungarian.
From Uzhhorod.
From Uzhhorod.
In western Ukraine.
And best known.
By his military.
Call sign, Magyar.
Call sign, Magyar.
Clean-shaven before the war.
He now wears.
A long ginger and.
Grey-speckled beard.
‘And all about a rattle!’
said Alice still hoping
to make them a little ashamed
of fighting for such a trifle.
‘I shouldn’t have minded
It so much,’
said Tweedledum,
‘if it hadn’t been a new one.’
The businessman signed up.
To fight just before.
‘Orcs’ full-scale invasion.
– “we all knew war was inevitable” –
Initially joining.
The Territorial Defence.
The Territorial Defence.
Then passing through.
Some of the fiercest battles.
Including for Bakhmut.
Some of the fiercest battles.
Including for Bakhmut.
‘I shouldn’t have minded
It so much,’
said Tweedledum,
‘if it hadn’t been a new one.’
‘I wish the monstrous crow
would come!’ thought Alice.
‘I wish the monstrous crow
would come!’ thought Alice.
But it was before that.
Pinned down.
By ‘orcs’ fire.
In Kherson.
That he first saw.
The potential of drones.
He recalled a device.
He’d bought for his own children.
And began to introduce.
Similar ones to his unit.
Suddenly they could climb.
Above ‘orcs’ positions.
And stream live images.
To a nearby artillery team.
Enabling them.
To strike.
“The idea first developed.
As self-preservation.”
He explains, but it.
Transformed the battlefield.
‘I wish the monstrous crow
would come!’ thought Alice.
‘I wish the monstrous crow
would come!’ thought Alice.
‘There’s only one sword,
you know,’ Tweedledum said
to his brother:
‘but you can have the umbrella
Within months.
The soldiers were building.
Their own drones.
And attaching munitions.
And soon became.
Renowned as.
414th Brigade.
The Birds of Magyar.
‘There’s only one sword,
you know,’ Tweedledum said
to his brother:
‘but you can have the umbrella
– it’s quite as sharp.
Only we must begin quick.
It’s getting as dark as it can.’
‘And darker,’ said Tweedledee.
His strategy is.
Not only built on.
Not only built on.
Long-range strikes.
He talks, at length.
About another priority:
Reducing ‘orcs’ advantage.
In terms of manpower.
The issue has become.
Even more acute for Ukraine.
As it struggles to mobilise.
Men for the front:
“Those who wanted.
To fight are.
Already fighting.”
The commander accepts.
– it’s quite as sharp.
Only we must begin quick.
It’s getting as dark as it can.’
‘And darker,’ said Tweedledee.
It was getting dark
so suddenly that
Alice thought there must be
a thunderstorm coming on.
So his crews are.
Under direct orders.
To kill more enemy soldiers.
Each month.
Than ‘Mordor’ can recruit.
Than ‘Mordor’ can recruit.
That’s over 30,000 men.
A month.
“30% of all drone strikes.
Have to be against.
Military personnel.”
He is clear.
“You can call it.
A kill plan, yes.
And right now.
We are exceeding it.”
‘You know,’ he added very gravely.
‘it’s one of the most serious things
that can possibly happen
to one in a battle
– to get one’s head cut off.’
Alice laughed loud:
but she managed to turn it
into a cough,
He says they’ve met.
Their target.
For four months.
In a row.
You can’t confirm that data.
But he tells you.
His men do exactly that:
His men do exactly that:
The death of each soldier.
Has to be proved.
By video.
Or it doesn’t count.
for fear of hurting his feelings.
‘Do I look very pale?’
said Tweedledum, coming up
to have his helmet tied on.
(He called it a helmet,
though it certainly looked
much more like a saucepan.)
‘Well – yes – a little,’
Some of those clips.
Play on a grim loop.
On screens.
In the command centre.
And he also posts them.
On Telegram.
Where he styles.
His drone forces.
As the “birds”.
And their ‘orcs’ prey.
As “worms”.
To hunt and destroy.
Alice replied gently.
‘I’m very brave generally,’
he went on in a low voice:
‘only to-day I happen to have a headache.’
‘And I’ve got a toothache!’
said Tweedledee,
who had overheard the remark.
‘I’m far worse than you!’
“The greatest mass.
Killing of an enemy.
In the history of mankind.
Is taking place.”
“In this room.”
He says at one point.
Gesturing at the screens.
Around you.
It is brutal talk.
From a softly spoken man.
But he refuses to be.
“Gnawed by pity”.
‘Then you’d better not fight to-day,’
said Alice thinking it
a good opportunity
to make a peace.
‘We must have a bit of a fight,
but I don’t care about
going on long,’
said Tweedledum.
‘Orcs’ troops are.
Far beyond.
Their own borders.
He says.
Sent by ‘the One’.
Sent by ‘the One’.
“Who wants to destroy.
Our nation”.
“If we don’t kill them.
They kill us.
That is clear.”
That is clear.”
‘What’s the time now?’
Tweedledee looked at
his watch, and said
‘Half past four.’
‘Let’s fight till six,
and then have dinner,’
said Tweedledum.
‘Very well,’ the other said,
The commander insists.
He has no.
“Rose-tinted spectacles”:
His goal is containment.
Not mounting.
New counter-offensives.
Or taking back.
Huge swathes of land.
“We have an effective weapon:
Not to conduct.
An offensive war.”
An offensive war.”
“But to prevent the enemy.
“But to prevent the enemy.
Advancing effectively.
On our territory.”
rather sadly:
‘and she can watch us
– only you’d better not come
very close,’ he added:
‘I generally hit everything
I can see
– when I get really excited.’
– when I get really excited.’
He also believes.
‘The One’ cannot afford.
To end his invasion.
Because the risks of failure.
Are too great.
So the commander has.
One more target:
‘Orcs’ morale.
He hopes a high casualty rate.
Combined with giant fires.
Burning at facilities.
Deep beyond the border.
Can create “a certain ferment”.
Within ‘Mordor’.
He’s aiming for.
The shock factor.
‘And I hit everything
within reach,’ cried Tweedledum,
‘whether I can see it or not.’
Alice laughed.
‘You must hit the trees pretty often,
I should think,’ she said.
Tweedledum looked round him
with a satisfied smile.
One recent video.
Widely shared in Ukraine.
Shows an ‘orc’ woman.
In Tuapse in floods of tears.
“I just wanted to live.
By the sea with my child.
But everything’s ruined…
Those drones fly.”
“But everything’s ruined…
Those drones fly.
Destroying everything.”
She sobs, between expletives.
‘I don’t suppose,’ he said.
‘there’ll be a tree left standing,
for ever so far round,
by the time we’ve finished!’
‘And all about a rattle!’
said Alice still hoping
to make them a little ashamed
of fighting for such a trifle.
For the commander.
It’s a sign that.
The fallout from.
‘Orcs’ invasion.
– and ‘elves’ strong pushback –
Could be spreading.
Beyond its so-far.
Limited circles.
‘I shouldn’t have minded
It so much,’
said Tweedledum,
‘if it hadn’t been a new one.’
‘I wish the monstrous crow
would come!’ thought Alice.
‘I wish the monstrous crow
would come!’ thought Alice.
His aim.
With every drone.
Is to make more ‘orcs’.
Is to make more ‘orcs’.
Question the war.
Their country is fighting.
And ‘the One’.
Who started it.
‘Tweedledum and Tweedledee
Agreed to have a battle;
For Tweedledum said Tweedledee
Had spoiled his nice new rattle.
Just then flew down a monstrous crow,
As black as a tar-barrel;
Which frightened both the heroes so,
They quite forgot their quarrel.’
*Because I read “Ukraine’s drone commander has Russian oil, troops and morale in his sights” by Sarah Rainsford on 27 Apr 2026, and also “Why are Ukrainians calling Russians ‘orcs’?” by James FitzGerald on 30 Apr 2022, on the BBC news.
So, I wrote this poem, as a story of Robert Brovdi, led by ‘THROUGH the LOOKING-GLASS’ written by Lewis Carroll, you know.
Please read the original story on the BBC news:
Robert Brovdi, Ukraine’s drone commander with Russian oil in his sights
