Meet Ukraine’s Twin Brothers Piloting Drones Two Kilometers from Kharkiv’s Intensifying Frontline

Groot and Xerox: twin Mavic drone pilots

When the Mavic drone starts up, a robotic English voice states, “Attitude mode, fly with caution.” Two identical faces, one holding the drone, appear behind the four black propellers.

The twin brothers, known under the call signs Groot and Xerox, fight in an air reconnaissance unit with the Kara-Dag brigade, part of the 15th Operational Brigade. They have been on Ukraine’s frontlines since 2022, at age 18. The twins have dark hair, pressing eyes, and a sense of humor that doesn’t let up straight away. Groot wears a baseball cap that reads “SERIAL KILLER” in huge typeface.

Side by side, they are identical, although not actual identical twins but dizygotic twins. We meet them mid-training session, on what the Ukrainian army calls a polygon. Infantry brigades, RPG teams, and drone brigades all train on the same 1 km² range–a racket of humming, explosions, and distant orders from colonels.

Present for pivotal battles: Hostomel, which saw Russian forces attempt to seize Hostomel Airport near Kyiv, then in Serebrianskyi Forest, Torestsk, and today they fight in the Kupiansk direction.

Liberated three years ago, Kupiansk is now again becoming a frontline hotspot. The Oskil River marks the advance of Russian forces, who have spent the past two months pushing across it and moving into the city.

Brotherhood on Ukraine’s frontlines

Groot and Xerox are both aerial reconnaissance pilots specializing in Mavics, which means when on position, they are two kilometers from the frontline. This extreme proximity, in this stage of the war, makes their position one of the most dangerous. One military expert—who preferred to remain anonymous–described it like this: “Being a UAV pilot today is like being in the infantry in 2022.”

Today, the twins are 23. Before that, they served in the infantry but were transferred less than a year ago to the UAV battalion. “Unlike being in the infantry, where you mostly stay in one position and wonder whether a drone flying overhead is targeting you or just passing by, being a drone pilot feels like you are actually doing something useful,” they say. “You’re watching them from above, and they [the Russian forces] don’t even realize it.”

The twins describe their time in the infantry as “scary,” but not like it is now. Back then, they say, there were no drones, no fear of being targeted, burned, or killed by anti-aircraft fire. It was simpler: dig a trench, hide, hold your ground. When it all began, the shells flew, but so high that you could barely see them.

They first served in Hostomel in 2022, when they were just 19, “we had only seen war on TV, in videos, photographs, in films,” explains Groot, matter-of-fact. “We got off 8-10 kilometers from Hostomel and walked there […] the closer we got, the scarier it was,” adds Xerox.

“Finding out that someone from your brigade has died…” Groot looks out while his brother speaks, not finishing the sentence. After a halt, he describes a certain situation—hearing on the radio that a friend has died. “It happened just 25-30 meters from us,” says Xerox. The radio reported a death,” says Xerox, “I asked—who? They gave me the call sign—and then I realized it’s my friend.”

In Restrepo, the documentary made by Tim Hetherington and Sebastian Junger, who embedded with a platoon in Afghanistan’s Korengal Outpost, a soldier is shot and killed.

The soldier’s best friend’s ensuing reaction is dissonant from the depictions of brotherhood that saturate many forms of storytelling around war. The reaction, one of actual shock and panic, makes you feel like you’re intruding; actually aware of death because it’s not being underscored by music or adjectives.

“First, one of your friends dies. Then another and another,” Xerox says. “It’s mentally overwhelming. You get attached to your guys—they’re like family—and then, one by one, they’re gone. Then he stops speaking, stoic, waiting for the next question.

“It would be scary to serve apart,” say the twins. Comrades in arms become friends, but brothers stay brothers. The question of whether either of them dies is never raised, but their proximity is. From February to April, they served in different locations and were “worried about each other constantly,” says Groot. “He’s [Xerox] always with me otherwise. The main thing is that we serve in the same direction.”

In war, it can seem as though death and brotherhood are inextricably linked; it would be pointless to try to cite all the films and series depicting the friendship between soldiers and everything that friendship entails. Because of the romanticization of this bond, the word itself—brotherhood—can seem stereotypical.

Indeed, moving beyond the stereotype in the context of brotherhood is challenging. Some aspects of the twins' relationship do live up to the archetype. “There are moments when we understand each other telepathically,” says Groot. He goes on to explain that they finish each other’s sentences or say the same word at the same time.

Getting to positions, but first–rest

In the bunker, men lie on their small cots, huddled up to their phones. The muffled sound of videos passing on to the next can be heard. Kara-Dag flags line the walls, and drones are set on makeshift nightstands. These men are preparing to go to positions, and rest is primordial.

“We prepare very simply—energy drinks, cigarettes, and water,” says Groot, staying neutral. When the twins were in the infantry, their commander made sure they were ready by constantly reminding them to get the right equipment and protect themselves from shrapnel, but also to prepare mentally, meaning rest —when you can. “The goal is to be as charged and as prepared as possible, both physically and mentally,” adds Xerox.

The next day, we drive for two hours. As we approach the rotation point, where Groot and Xerox depart for their positions, the Kara-Dag press officer, Vitalii, takes out a drone detector and places it on the dashboard. On today’s frontline, such a device is indispensable. Vitalii turns to us and says to make sure we do not have our seat belts on. If we see an FPV, we might have to jump out.

When we arrive at the meeting point, the sun is coming down, orange light lining the hedges surrounding us.

All the guys sit on the floor, smoking, making jokes over each other’s shoulders, flicking their lighters. We hardly notice that across from where they sit, obscured by vines, lies a graveyard.

Suddenly, an APC  shows up, parks, and half of the brigade gets in quickly. The driver closes the doors, awkwardly backs out, and speeds off.

Groot and Xerox are left with two other comrades. Another APC pulls up, soldiers rush out, relieved, grab gear at high speed, and pile FPV frames behind them.

All the gear gets moved into a simple SUV truck, and the twins get in. We hardly have time to wave goodbye, as Groot rolls up the window.

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