Russian forces have tried to sell their new anti-drone “invisibility” cloaks as a cheap answer to Ukraine’s exploding fleet of first-person-view attack drones. On the battlefield, however, the fabric meant to hide soldiers from thermal cameras is instead exposing how far Russian tactics lag behind Ukrainian innovation. The result is a grim pattern of failed protection, shattered positions, and a widening technological gap.
Rather than neutralizing Ukrainian drones, the cloaks are being outmatched by agile operators, smarter munitions, and better battlefield awareness. In some of the most telling footage of the war so far, Russian troops wrapped in the much-hyped material are still being hunted, tracked, and killed from the air.
The myth of the “invisible” Russian soldier
The core promise of Russia’s anti-drone cloak is simple: insulate body heat so that thermal cameras on Ukrainian drones cannot distinguish a soldier from the background. In theory, that should make it harder for an operator to pick out targets on a tablet screen. In practice, video from the front shows Ukrainian drones still locking onto cloaked troops, with the supposed camouflage doing little more than adding a shiny new texture to the kill zone. One clip shared in early summer shows Russian soldiers under a sheet designed to mask their heat signature, yet the drone’s thermal view still outlines their bodies clearly before striking, a sequence that undercuts the idea of any real “invisibility” and is visible in a short Jun clip.
The concept itself is not new. Earlier in the war, reports described Russian units improvising with raincoats lined with insulating material to cut their infrared profile, a low-tech attempt to blunt the advantage of Ukrainian optics. Analysts noted that these makeshift garments, and later more formalized cloaks, were meant to reduce detection by thermal imagers, not magically erase soldiers from the battlefield. Yet even that modest goal appears unmet. Footage and battlefield accounts show that the cloaks do not reliably blend troops into their surroundings, and in some cases the distinctive shape of the fabric actually helps drone operators identify where a Russian position begins and ends, echoing earlier observations from Defense Express about Russian attempts to reduce their visibility to thermal imagers.
From marketing pitch to “sitting ducks” on the front
Russian messaging has tried to frame the cloaks as a smart, scalable answer to Ukraine’s drone edge, but the battlefield evidence points in the opposite direction. Instead of making troops harder to hit, the gear often leaves them static and overconfident, huddled in shallow trenches or tree lines that are already mapped by Ukrainian reconnaissance. One analysis described how the fabric encourages soldiers to stay put, trusting the material rather than dispersion, concealment, or rapid movement. When Ukrainian drones arrive, those cloaked figures are still in predictable spots, and the drones simply adjust their approach or switch to visual cues to finish the job, turning the supposed protection into a liability that leaves Russian troops as Anti targets.
The human factor compounds the problem. Western specialists who have reviewed footage of Russian units under drone attack point to “Instances of incompetence by Russian personnel who clearly do not understand how to use their equipment,” a blunt assessment that highlights how training and doctrine lag behind the hardware. In several clips, soldiers wearing thermal camouflage still expose their heads or limbs from trenches, or cluster together in open ground, making themselves easy marks for Ukrainian operators. The cloaks, in other words, are being used as a substitute for basic fieldcraft rather than a complement to it, a misuse that helps explain why one detailed review concluded that the Russian anti-drone cloaks have “no effect” as troops continue to be hit by drones despite the extra layer of fabric, a verdict captured in a report on Instances of Russian misuse.
Ukrainian FPV operators adapt faster than Russian fabric
While Russian designers focus on cloth and coatings, Ukrainian units are iterating on tactics and software. First-person-view drones, or FPV, have become precision tools in the hands of experienced operators who can steer explosive-laden quadcopters through windows, into dugouts, or directly onto individual soldiers. One widely shared sequence shows a Ukrainian FPV drone homing in on a Russian infantry position that had been prepared as a hideout, with the structure and its occupants set ablaze after impact. The fact that such positions are still being destroyed even when Russian troops attempt to use thermal cloaks underscores how little the fabric matters once a drone has a rough fix on a target area and a skilled pilot behind the controls.
Other clips are even more damning for the cloak’s reputation. In one Ukrainian short, an FPV drone closes in on a Russian soldier who is visibly wrapped in an anti-drone garment. The pilot adjusts course in real time, ignoring whatever marginal thermal masking the cloak might provide, and drives the munition straight into the target. Another Video filmed in the fields of Donbas shows FPV drones hunting Russian troops in anti-drone cloaks across open terrain, with the operators using movement patterns, terrain features, and prior reconnaissance to guide their attacks. The lesson is clear: once Ukrainian crews have eyes on a sector, a thin layer of thermal fabric is no match for human adaptability and precise remote piloting.
Thermal cloaks in a wider war of attrition
The failure of Russia’s cloaks also needs to be seen in the broader context of a grinding war where small technological edges can decide whether units survive. Around Capansk, for example, Ukrainian pressure has been so intense that fewer than 100 Russian soldiers were reported to remain in the city after a series of punishing strikes. In that sector, Ukrainian forces have used drones and artillery to systematically dismantle Russian positions, leaving Russia’s forces in Capansk in what one account described as a dire situation for Russia, with Vladimir Putin’s troops struggling to hold ground despite layers of field fortifications and improvised defenses.
On other parts of the front, similar dynamics play out. Russian units that rely on static defenses and gadgets like the cloaks are being worn down by a Ukrainian approach that fuses reconnaissance, FPV strikes, and rapid exploitation. Even when Russian troops try to adapt by digging deeper or spreading out, the underlying problem remains: the cloaks do not meaningfully change the engagement, and in some cases they appear to give commanders a false sense of security. That mismatch between expectation and reality feeds into a wider pattern of attrition that is steadily eroding Russia’s manpower and equipment stocks, regardless of how many new fabrics or field expedients are rushed to the line.
Ukraine’s own cloak, and what real innovation looks like
There is an irony in the cloak story that is easy to miss. While Russian forces struggle to make their anti-drone fabric work, Ukrainian engineers have been developing their own thermal camouflage cloak to conceal soldiers from Russian UAVs. Unlike the Russian version, which is often showcased as a miracle fix, the Ukrainian project is being integrated into a broader ecosystem of innovation that includes software, sensors, and battlefield feedback loops. Officials have encouraged teams working on such defense projects to submit their ideas through the Brave1 platform, a structured channel that helps turn prototypes into field-ready gear and that has been highlighted in coverage of Ukraine’s thermal camouflage efforts.
The contrast is not just about who has the better fabric. It is about how each side treats technology. Ukrainian units treat FPV drones, camouflage, and electronic tools as parts of a constantly evolving system, with frontline feedback shaping the next batch of gear. Russian forces, by comparison, often appear to bolt on new gadgets without changing doctrine or training. That is why a cloak that might marginally reduce a heat signature on a lab bench ends up failing miserably against real Ukrainian strikes. The war has become a live-fire test of what innovation really means, and on that score, the story of Russia’s hyped anti-drone cloak is less about invisibility and more about a military machine that cannot keep up with the threats it faces.
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