Ukraine Just Built Its Own ATACMS.
Operation Spiderweb continues to spin
Operation Pavutyna. That’s what they’re calling it in Ukraine. Operation Spiderweb for the rest of us. And what a web it is—spun on June 1st and still stretching.
When I first came across the details of this latest covert strike inside Russian occupied territory—where a swarm of drones decimated tanks, armored vehicles, and fuel cars on a military train moving through southern Ukraine—I had to blink twice. It felt like Mission Impossible, except no Tom Cruise, no face masks, no rooftop chases. Just remote execution. Precise. Invisible.
Ukrainian forces carried out a surgical strike on a military train—wiping out what amounts to a full regiment’s worth of equipment.
According to Russian Telegram channels, the operation was enabled by a covert infiltration: Ukrainian drones were hidden inside grain hopper cars. At the critical moment, the hatches burst open. The drones launched directly from within—first disabling the lead locomotive, then swarming the flatbed cars behind, targeting tanks, artillery, and fuel reserves. The operational details are still murky, but several credible sources confirm the hit took place.
Ukraine’s Southern Forces Command reported Russian losses as follows:
1 Railway Locomotive
13 Tanks
7 Artillery Systems
103 Units of Automotive and Armored Equipment
10 Fuel Tank Cars, carrying an estimated 158,000–172,000 gallons of fuel
Russian security services are, to put it mildly, clueless. This isn’t some tiny autocracy in a sandbox—it’s the world’s largest country, spanning seven time zones and housing 145 million people. And yet, on June 1, Ukraine managed to strike Russia’s strategic bomber fleet with drones launched not from airbases or silos—but from the back of trucks.
Let that sink in. Trucks.
Now every truck in Russia is a suspect. Every delivery vehicle, every parked semi, every convoy near a military site is a potential threat. And while I have no interest in offering countermeasures on their behalf, I understand their dilemma: what guarantee is there that the next truck won’t carry 200 loitering munitions, hatch flung open, drones swarming toward the nearest airbase?
This is the genius of Ukraine’s approach. These attacks aren’t just physical—they’re psychological. They sow paranoia. Every city, every logistics node, every rail corridor becomes a question mark. The Russian military is being forced to treat civil infrastructure like hostile terrain.
And the response? More checkpoints. More patrols. Miles-long traffic jams. Grinding friction across the system. Civilian costs rise. Military mobility slows. And for what? Ukraine waits patiently. Because once the scrutiny eases, the next strike arrives.
Sun Tzu wrote: "To move swiftly, one must appear slow. To strike with certainty, one must seem uncertain." This is Ukraine’s modern reinterpretation. These aren't just drone strikes—they're strategic chokeholds. Operations that don’t just hit targets—they reshape the battlefield.
Every attack forces Russia into reactive posture. Their defenses scatter. Their resources bleed. This is non-linear warfare: change the terrain, unhinge the logic, and strike from angles the enemy hasn’t yet imagined.
Operation Spiderweb may have formally ended. But its echo hasn’t. The initial blow triggered panic—and Ukraine compounded the chaos with further strikes. The web still holds.
But Ukraine isn’t just spinning webs anymore. It’s building spears.
In mid-May 2025, a new ballistic missile—domestically built—was tested in combat. The target? A Russian command post. The result? Destroyed. Clear confirmation that Ukraine now possesses long-range strike power of its own.
This wasn’t luck.
It was the product of a hard reset. For over two years, Ukraine tried to revive its missile program, but bureaucratic drag slowed it down. That changed in July 2024, when a full restructuring took place. General Klochko was appointed deputy defense minister and given authority to overhaul the effort. Under his leadership, Ukraine went from stalled blueprints to a fielded missile system in less than a year. Ukraine now has a dedicated structure to develop and produce missiles.
The name and technical specs are classified. But here’s what we know: the missile flies nearly 300 kilometers and delivers a warhead weighing over 400 kilograms. That weight class isn’t arbitrary. Ukraine wanted to make a point.
The 300-kilometer range tells you everything.
After three years of pleading with the Biden administration for ATACMS—and getting only a reluctant trickle—Kyiv finally asked the obvious question: Why keep waiting for America to arm us when we can arm ourselves? Why not build our own ATACMS? And they’ve done it—with style.
I don’t have hard data to confirm this next point, but I’d bet heavily that Ukraine designed this missile to launch from the ground—just like ATACMS. It only makes sense.
And when you line them up side by side, the intention becomes even clearer. The unitary ATACMS carries more than 160kg—ideal for knocking out command centers. The cluster variant, meant to saturate airfields and armored zones, weighs in around 560 kilograms. Ukraine’s new missile lands right between the two: possibly a hybrid, built to strike with both force and flexibility.
And here’s the kicker: serial production is a go. No one knows the exact tempo yet—but it’s scaling. Fast. Because unlike last year, Ukraine now has a backer.
Germany.
In a masterstroke of strategic policy, Germany pledged to bankroll Ukraine’s missile development. That decision doesn’t just arm Kyiv—it begins to solve Europe’s greatest defense gap. Because Europe has no ground launched missiles. Nothing to match the ATACMS and create a 300km firezone. Now, by investing in Ukraine’s production lines, Germany is building a missile wall—not just for Ukraine, but for the continent.
So long as Ukraine stands, Russia cannot reach Europe. And if Ukraine mass-produces long-range missiles—smart, mobile, and scalable—that alone becomes the firewall. That alone makes any Russian offensive westward not just dangerous—but suicidal.
What started as desperation—a country cornered—has now become the continent’s final line of defense. Ukraine isn’t just fighting to survive anymore.
It’s building the weapons that might one day save Europe. Russia cannot defeat the combined force of Ukrainian resilience and German financial and industrial power. And the more these two nations integrate—technologically, militarily, strategically—the faster Putin’s ambitions will rot on the vine.
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Absolutely brilliant. Slava Ukraini!
It seems that Ukraine is now a full member of NATO. Great job, Not-My-President Trump!