Four blasts hit Belbek military airport in Crimea at the end of last week. Russian air defences were activated a few hours later to counter a raid on the Kerch Bridge, also called the Crimean Bridge. The two attacks were preceded by explosions at Saki airbase, which destroyed nine warplanes, and were followed by a “kamikaze” drone hitting the headquarters of the Kremlin’s Black Sea Fleet in Sevastopol.
The violence in Crimea, annexed from Ukraine by Moscow eight years ago, is the latest and a highly significant development in the war sparked by Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.
It started four months ago with the sinking of the flagship of the Black Sea Fleet, the cruiser Moskva, in the waters off the peninsula, and continued when the Russians were forced to evacuate the strategically important Snake Island.
The drumbeat of Ukrainian operations in Crimea has risen steadily, causing – according to Western officials – “significant psychological strain in the Kremlin”. The Black Sea Fleet, the pride of the Russian navy, has been reduced, they say, to “little more than a coastal defence flotilla”.
Those officials have offered no evidence to back up the claim of high trauma in Moscow, but the Russian defence ministry announced that the fleet’s commander, Admiral Igor Osipov, has been replaced by Admiral Viktor Sokolov as part of a shake-up.
The new chief, it said, had given a “morale-boosting” speech to the military in Sevastopol and promised an injection of new resources.
In Sevastopol, the governor, Mikhail Razvozhaev, warned on his Telegram channel in the consternation following the latest raid: “If possible, get to your homes as quickly as possible and stay there.”
Troops have set up roadblocks around cities and are carrying out identity checks – the first time such measures have been taken since the conflict began in February.
The Ukrainians have shown that they can now strike not just at occupied areas in the mainland, or at Russian cities like Belgorod, just across the border from Kharkiv, but also at Crimea, a distance away in terms of operations.
They have been able to do this with drones, according to varying accounts, or with special forces sent from the mainland, as well as locally formed resistance.
The strikes could also have been carried out by missiles, the most likely methods in which case would have been the use of US AGM-88 Harm anti-radar missiles against the Russian S-400 air defences, followed by Army Tactical Missile System (ATACMS) missiles launched from US High Mobility Artillery Rocket Systems (HIMARS). Washington has not, officially at least, supplied Kyiv with ATACMS missiles yet, however.
The Ukrainian Special Operations Forces (SSO), comprising more than 4,000 troops, have been practising targeted attacks in Crimea, with the 73rd Naval Purpose Centre taking a leading role. Meanwhile, members of SSO took part in amphibious drills with special forces from Nato states.
A number of senior Ukrainian officials have openly spoken of the urgent need to carry out strikes inside Russian-occupied territory, with Crimea a particular focus.
The defence minister, Oleksii Reznikov, said recently: “What we are trying to do is to destroy their military supplies, their infrastructure, and command and control – we are trying to hit what they plan to use against us.”
Olysa, who lives in the Crimean capital Simferopol, described the growing public apprehension about what lay ahead. “There is a definite change in mood. Those who support Russia started off by saying that the war would be over in weeks, with Ukraine defeated. Then they became less confident, saying it would take longer” she said.
“Now some of my neighbours are thinking of leaving for Russia. One family I know is going to Rostov; they asked us to look after their home while they are away.”
Olysa left Crimea for the mainland after the referendum that was held following the annexation in 2014, with the results showing an overwhelming majority voting to become part of the Russian Federation.
However, there were accusations of widespread vote rigging, and the Ukrainian and Tartar communities largely boycotted the poll, which they considered to be illegal.
Olysa later returned to Simferopol, the second-largest city in Crimea, to look after her ailing elderly mother, not envisaging any changes to Crimea’s status quo in relation to Ukraine.
“No one thought Crimea would stop being Russian any time soon. But with this war, with all that has been happening, maybe some people have now begun to have a little hope,” she said.
Maxim, who works in the hospitality sector in the Yalta area, added: “The tourists we get are mainly Russian, and quite a few of them are heading back home. There are a lot of late cancellations as well. There is shock that the war can come to Crimea, that the Ukrainians can do damage here.”
The fact that the Ukrainians can carry out missions inside Crimea vividly illustrates how far the military balance has swung since the armed confrontation in the area began, after the overthrow of the pro-Moscow president Viktor Yanukovych in 2014.
Yanukovych first went to Crimea and then to Russia after fleeing Kyiv. The following week the Kremlin began the seizure of the peninsula. I was among the journalists who arrived there after covering the Maidan protests in Kyiv and witnessed Russian troops, the masked “little green men”, taking over government buildings and key locations.
Ukrainian bases were surrounded by Russian troops and the Moscow-raised “self-defence force”, the Samoobrona, demanding their surrender. Vigilantes and pro-Russian crowds intimidated the families living outside the barracks of the blockaded troops in what seemed to be coordinated action.
The headquarters of Ukraine’s Black Sea Fleet (the Soviet Black Sea Fleet had been divided between Russia and Ukraine) was taken over by the Russians. The commander, Admiral Serhiy Hayduk, was held by the Samoobrona and then taken away by the Russian security service, the FSB.
Members of the Ukrainian military changed into civilian uniforms to leave the base after Russian troops arrived. “We’d rather not be doing this; we’d rather be defending ourselves,” a bitter Nicolai Pavluyk, a marine, said to me at the time. “But we have received no order from Kyiv, no encouragement, nothing, so we are leaving.”
Many in the crowd outside were deeply distressed. Irina Vorodinova, her tears welling, whispered: “I am proud of them. They have done all they could. They shouldn’t be put through this.”
Her son, a captain, was still inside. Her husband, a retired captain, was at another gate, also anxiously waiting for news. “Our family, our parents have been in the military. Now our men are being treated like this. It’s not right,” she said.
The assault on Sevastopol had been preceded by an attack on a mapping and navigation centre in Simferopol in which a Ukrainian officer was killed and several others injured. The fall of the headquarters was followed by other bases, at Yevpatoria and Perevolnoye, being taken over.
There is a definite change in mood. Now, some of my neighbours are thinking of leaving for Russia
The fledgling Ukrainian government, outgunned and outnumbered by the enemy, appeared to accept that Crimea was lost. Andriy Parubiy, then the national security chief, said: “We are developing a plan that would enable us to withdraw not only servicemen, but also members of their families in Crimea so that they can be quickly and efficiently moved to mainland Ukraine”.
At Sevastopol, Sergiy Bogdanov, a navy spokesman, added: “We are not using arms and we will not be doing so.”
Some Ukrainian units still refused to surrender, however. Colonel Yuli Mamchur and an aviation regiment at Belbek, the military airport now targeted by the Ukrainians, became a symbol of this defiant resistance. Mamchur became a hate figure among Russian loyalists – posters appeared in Sevastopol calling for his execution.
When Russian special forces occupied a part of the base, colonel Mamchur led his troops, unarmed, to face them. The Russians, angry and a bit bewildered, but also impressed, agreed not to press forward for the time being. The siege lasted weeks – colonel Mamchur repeatedly asked the defence ministry in Kyiv for instructions, but got nothing definitive in response.
The last of several deadlines given by the Russians for surrender came and there were reports that the base would be stormed that day. I was among a small group of journalists who went to see what would happen, having to negotiate our way though a hostile pro-Russian crowd outside the gate.
Colonel Mamchur made what was to be his last call to Kyiv to point out the urgency of the situation. He came back and told us with a wry smile: “All the ministry of defence would tell me was to use my initiative. Well, I suppose that’s what we’ll have to do.”
Two young officers, lieutenants Galina Vladimirova Volosyanick and Ivan Ivanovich Benera, got married at the base that day, with a meal consisting of lemonade, figs and nuts, chocolates, cakes and local champagne, with the troops restricted to a glass each to remain ready for what lay ahead.
The attack took place just before 5pm. Russian armoured personnel carriers (APCs) punched a hole through the perimeter wall of the base: soldiers, including Spetsnaz, or special unit forces, in balaclavas, stormed in. Several Ukrainians were injured, but none were killed. The Ukrainians, unarmed, formed up in ranks ten feet from the Russians, with colonel Mamchur calling them to attention and leading them in singing the national anthem.
The Russians, in combat stations, watched in silence as the verses were roared out, followed by full-throated cries of “glory to Ukraine, glory to our heroes”. The colonel told his men: “You have done all that honour demands. You should be proud of yourselves. I am proud of you. Ukraine will be proud of you.”
Colonel Mamchur held a meeting with Russian officers and came back to say that he was being detained and would be taken away. He said goodbye to his men and women. Every journalist present shook his hand.
The Russian troops took the media out through the gaping hole in the perimeter wall created by their APCs; photographers and camera operators had memory cards taken away from them, although some managed to smuggle them out.
A Russian officer, who had replaced his balaclava with a bandana across his face observed: “They are a bit mad you know, the Ukrainians. This lot here certainly show guts. I wish it hadn’t come to this. I am just doing my job; it’s the politicians, Ukrainians, Russians...,” he shrugged.
Colonel Mamchur was released after several months in captivity. He returned to Ukraine and became, for a period, an MP. I met him in Kyiv at the time and we reminisced about Belbek and Crimea.
Ukraine had been further dismembered with the creation of the separatist republics of Donetsk and Luhansk in the bitter conflict after the annexation of Crimea, and violent clashes were continuing in the east of the country. “It’s not going to go away, you know,” he said. “There might be another war, worse than the last, unless there’s a settlement – and I can’t see a settlement coming.”
Many members of the unit that was in Belbek are now in the Ukrainian forces. Vasilyy was offered the choice of joining the Russian military after being detained at Belbek in 2014; he refused and moved to Ukraine with his family.
“My family was very badly treated while I was at the base. Our apartment got broken into, my young daughter had to stop going to school and we couldn’t stay there. I have family in Russia, but I couldn’t join Putin’s military,” he said.
“We were glad of what we did in Belbek. But we were unprepared in Crimea, in Ukraine, for what happened. This time we are prepared; we are fighting back. Will we ever get back to Crimea? Who knows what the future holds.”
