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Scrubby foliage conceal the entrance. A sloping wooden passageway descends to a well-illuminated reception area. Inside lies a surgery unit, equipped with gurneys, cardiac monitors and ventilators. And shelves stocked of healthcare supplies, medications and neat piles of extra garments. Within a break area with a laundry appliance and hot water heater, physicians keep an eye on a screen. The screen reveals the flight patterns of enemy surveillance UAVs as they weave in the air above.

Hospital personnel at an underground medical center observe a screen displaying Russian kamikaze and reconnaissance drones in the area.

Welcome to Ukraine’s covert below-ground hospital. The facility opened in the eighth month and is the second of its kind, located in the eastern part of the country not far from the frontline and the city of Pokrovsk in the Donetsk region. “Our facility sits 6 metres below the ground. It’s the most secure method of delivering care to our wounded military personnel. And it keeps healthcare workers protected,” stated the clinic’s lead doctor, Maj the chief surgeon.

The stabilisation point treats thirty to forty patients a day. Cases differ widely. Some have devastating leg injuries necessitating amputations, or severe stomach wounds. Some patients can move on their own. The vast majority are the victims of Russian FPV drones, which release explosives with deadly precision. “90% of our patients are from FPVs. We see minimal gunshot wounds. This is an age of unmanned aircraft and a new type of conflict,” the doctor explained.

Major Oleksandr Holovashchenko at the subterranean facility for caring for injured soldiers in the eastern region.

During one day recently, three soldiers limped into the hospital. The most lightly injured, twenty-eight-year-old Artem Dvorskyi, reported an first-person view drone explosion had ripped a small hole in his limb. “War is horrific. The guy next to me, a fellow soldier, was killed,” he said. “He fell down. Then the enemy forces dropped a another grenade on him.” He added: “Everything in the settlement is demolished. We see UAVs everywhere and bodies. Ours and theirs.”

The soldier explained his squad endured over a month in a forest area close to the city, which Russia has been attempting to capture for many months. The only way to get to their position was on foot. All supplies came by quadcopter: rations and water. A week after he was hurt, he walked five kilometers (about 3 miles), taking several hours, to where an armoured vehicle was able to evacuate him. At the clinic, a medic checked his vital signs. Following care, a nurse provided him with fresh civilian clothes: a T-shirt and a pair of light-colored jeans.

Artem Dvorskiy, twenty-eight, stated a first-person view aerial device ripped a minor injury in his lower limb.

A different casualty, thirty-eight-year-old Pavlo Filipchuk, recounted a drone blast had resulted in a head injury. “My position was in a dugout. Suddenly it went dark. I couldn’t feel any feeling or any sound,” he explained. “I believe I was fortunate to remain alive. A relative has been lost. We face continuous explosions.” A construction worker working in a neighboring country, he said he had come back to Ukraine and volunteered to fight days before the Russian leader's full-scale invasion in early 2022.

A third soldier, Taras Mykolaichuk, had been struck in the back. He expressed pain as doctors placed him on a medical cot, took off a stained dressing and cleaned his recent shrapnel wound. Covered in a foil blanket, he used a mobile phone to call his sister. “A fragment of artillery hit me. It was a deflected projectile. I’m OK,” he informed her. What comes next for him? “To get better. This may require a few months. Subsequently, to go back to my military group. Someone has to protect our nation,” he affirmed.

Medical staff treat Taras Mykolaichuk, who was hit in the dorsal area by a piece of artillery shell.

Over the past years, enemy forces has consistently attacked hospitals, health facilities, maternity wards and emergency vehicles. According to international monitors, 261 health workers have been killed in nearly 2,000 attacks. The underground facility is built from four reinforced shelters, with timber beams, earth and sand placed above reaching the surface. It is designed to resist impacts from 152mm artillery shells and even three 8kg TNT charges released by aerial means.

The Ukrainian industrial group, which financed the building, intends to erect 20 units in total. The head of the nation's national security council and ex- military leader, Rustem Umerov, declared they would be “critically important for preserving the survival of our armed forces and supporting defenders on the battlefront.” The organization described the project as the “most ambitious and demanding” it had undertaken after Russia’s invasion.

One of the centre’s operating theatres.

The surgeon, said certain injured soldiers had to wait many hours or even days before they could be evacuated because of the threat of aerial attacks. “We had a pair of critically ill patients who arrived at 3am. I had to perform a double amputation on a patient. The soldier's tourniquet had been applied for such an extended period there was no other option.” How did he cope with severe surgeries? “I’ve been healthcare for two decades. One must focus,” he remarked.

Medical assistants transported the soldier through the tunnel and into an emergency vehicle. The transport was stationed beneath a shrub. He and the two other soldiers were transferred to the city of Dnipro for additional medical care. The underground hospital staff paused for rest. The facility's orange feline, Vasilevs, walked toward the doorway to greet the next arrivals. “Our facility operates active 24 hours a day,” Holovashchenko said. “It doesn’t stop.”