The videos flooding Telegram and other open channels are visceral and obvious: a small racing-style quadcopter, eyes-on from the pilot’s goggles, streaks low over a ridge, dives into an infantry fighting vehicle or slips through a window and detonates. That cinematic quality has a practical consequence on the ground. FPV, or first-person-view, loitering munitions are not a novelty in Ukraine by mid-2023. They have moved from improvisation to purpose-built weapons that frontline infantry now plan around rather than merely react to.
Put simply, FPV weapons change the kill chain at the squad level. Where a platoon once relied on heavy mortars, an artillery call, or scarce anti-tank missiles to treat a dug-in vehicle or a machine gun nest, an FPV pilot and a scout can execute a low-cost precision strike inside minutes. That capability both replaces and reshapes combined arms planning. The footage shows the pattern: a reconnaissance drone spots a target at standoff, an FPV pilot takes manual control in first person, and the loitering munition attempts a terminal dive. Even when strikes fail, the psychological and tactical pressure on defenders is real.
Do not confuse spectacle with inevitability. These are difficult weapons to use well. Modern FPV kamikazes are often bespoke builds, not off-the-shelf consumer quadcopters, and they demand practiced pilots and support teams. Ukrainian volunteer groups and small manufacturers scaled production rapidly in 2022 and 2023. One example profiled in May 2023 was Escadrone, whose Pegasus design and volunteers pushed output into the hundreds or low thousands per month and emphasized that pilot skill mattered more than any single airframe. Cheap components reduce per-unit cost, but the human factor remains the limiting variable.
That combination of low unit cost and high operator skill creates a weird tactical multiplier. A squad that trains a handful of competent FPV pilots gains a new organic anti-armor and bunker-busting capability without needing rare precision munitions. The footage and unit-level reporting also show growth in formally organized FPV detachments inside Ukraine’s armed formations and intelligence services, which institutionalizes what used to be an ad hoc volunteer effort. That institutional adoption matters because it brings logistics, training, and doctrine to a capability that had risked being only a social-media phenomenon.
But the limitations are real and visible in the videos. FPV systems are radio- and line-of-sight-dependent. Electronic warfare, frequency jamming, and simple counterfire remain effective mitigations, and footage frequently shows drones lost to interference or shot down before impact. As the loitering-munition literature summarized by observers in mid-2023 made clear, jamming and other EW techniques are a central part of the counter-drone toolbox and drive visible adaptation on both sides. Expect cat and mouse, not technological inevitability.
There is hype to push back against. Social-media clips naturally emphasize hits and dramatic results while omitting failed sorties, logistical strain, and the manpower cost to keep an FPV capability running. One-hit wonder videos do not automatically translate into permanent operational advantage. Maintenance, batteries, spares, and trained pilots are consumed at scale. Mass production can blunt that constraint, but production and sustainment are not free. The business model that produces thousands of frames and motors via volunteer or small-scale industrial workshops is impressive. It is not magic.
Operationally, the consequences for infantry commanders are immediate and concrete. Defensive posture must change. Fields of fire, overhead cover, and vehicle camouflage that worked against artillery or direct fire are less useful against a small, fast low-flying craft that can exploit gaps in overhead concealment. Commanders increasingly emplace portable EW, adapt dispersal and concealment, and prioritize counter-drone rifles, nets, and operator security. Foot patrols, logistical movements, and casualty evacuation are now weighed against the threat of a guided quadcopter rather than only indirect fire. The footage makes that doctrinal shift visible.
Tactically savvy defenders can blunt FPV effectiveness, but only up to a point. Electronic countermeasures and layered air defense help, but they are expensive, heavy, and themselves vulnerable. Shooting the drone, killing the pilot, or forcing the operator to lose line-of-sight are all valid responses shown in the record, but they require the defender to detect and react fast. That is much easier said than done when opposing teams coordinate scouts, artillery, and FPV runs in a matter of minutes.
Finally, a practical note from someone who has built and flown the hardware: do not mistake low price tags for low cost of war. A few hundred dollars per bird is a disruptive economics of war when traded for a vehicle worth millions. But at scale the logistics of batteries, repeaters, skilled pilots, training time, and the cognitive load on squads add up. The result is a new kind of attrition: of attention and tempo as much as of hardware. Footage tells you what worked on a given day. It does not tell you how sustainable those tactics are in a month.
Studio-quality FPV footage from Ukraine shows a capability that is operationally consequential and tactically disruptive. The correct take is neither breathless triumph nor reflexive dismissal. FPV loitering munitions are a hard-earned tool that demands training, logistics, and adaptation from both attacker and defender. For infantry commanders the calculus is now different: aerial threats are small, affordable, and intimate. That forces changes in doctrine, comms, and defensive investments. As the footage demonstrates, the race to adopt and counter FPV tactics is the present battlefield, not some far-off future.