He left quickly, and he came back quickly.
In the fifth year of a war that has already consumed hundreds of thousands of lives, Russia has turned to its universities and technical colleges to replenish its ranks, recruiting young students into drone units with promises of safety, prestige, and substantial pay. The gap between that promise and the reality of frontline combat has become a measure of the war's desperation — and its cost. At least three students documented in this campaign have died within months of signing, among a verified toll of more than 230,000 Russian military deaths, with estimates suggesting the true figure may approach half a million.
- Russia's military is recruiting directly from classrooms, targeting academically struggling students with contracts worth up to five million rubles and assurances of safe, technical drone work far from the front.
- The promises are legally hollow — mobilization decrees effectively make one-year contracts indefinite, and the defense ministry can reassign recruits to infantry assault units at will.
- By April 2026, recruitment activity had spread to nearly 270 universities and colleges, with some institutions reportedly given quotas and directors recorded shaming students who refused to sign.
- At least three young recruits — aged 18 and 23 — died within months of signing, sent not to protected technical roles but into frontal assaults described by one grieving mother as 'the meat grinder.'
- Verified Russian military deaths now exceed 230,000, with expert estimates placing the true toll between 417,000 and 509,500 — a hemorrhage that makes the conversion of students into soldiers an operational necessity for Moscow.
Valery Averin was 23 when he called his foster mother to say he was being sent somewhere without cell service. A week later, on April 8th, she learned he had been killed by a mortar strike near Luhansk. He had spent three months training as a drone operator after signing a contract at his technical school in Siberia — his first time in military service.
Averin is one of at least three young students documented to have died after being drawn into Russia's campaign to fill its drone units from university and college campuses. The pitch was carefully built: one-year contracts, payments of up to five million rubles, technical training in an elite and modern branch of the military. Drone operators, recruits were told, would work away from the front. The reality has been starkly different.
Vladislav Gorbunov, 18, died four months after signing his contract, having been sent first to an infantry assault unit before transfer to drone operations. Rakhim Abdullin signed just after his 18th birthday, drawn by the promise that drone work was safer than other combat roles. By March 13th, he was dead. His mother said simply: "He left quickly, and he came back quickly."
The campaign has reached deep into civilian life. By April 2026, the BBC found evidence of recruitment at nearly 270 institutions. Students struggling academically are targeted with particular intensity. In Novosibirsk, a college director was recorded calling students cowards for refusing to sign. Some institutions have reportedly been given recruitment quotas.
The legal foundations of the promises are fragile. Since Putin's 2022 mobilization decree, contracts have been effectively extended indefinitely. The defense ministry retains the right to reassign recruits deemed unsuitable for drone work to other combat roles. The carefully constructed offer — safety, status, money — tends to dissolve on arrival.
The broader toll frames the urgency. The BBC has verified more than 230,000 Russian military deaths through public records; experts believe this represents only 45 to 55 percent of actual losses, placing the real figure between 417,000 and 509,500. Ukraine's losses are also severe, with President Zelensky acknowledging 55,000 deaths as of February 2026 and Ukrainian sources suggesting totals may reach 213,000.
Oksana Afanayeva, Averin's foster mother, had taken him in at age 11 after he grew up in an orphanage in eastern Siberia. He was in his final year of technical school when he was recruited. He told her nothing would happen to him. Instead, after three months of training, he was sent into what she calls 'the meat grinder.' The war is now drawing its recruits not from barracks, but from dormitories — converting students into soldiers, and soldiers into casualties, at an accelerating pace.
Valery Averin was 23 years old when he called his foster mother in early April to say he was being sent somewhere without cell service. He told her not to worry. A week later, on April 8th, she learned he had been killed by a mortar strike near Luhansk, in eastern Ukraine. Averin had spent three months training as a drone operator after signing a military contract at his technical school in Siberia. He had never served in the army before.
Averin is one of at least three young students documented to have died after being recruited into Russia's new campaign to fill its drone units with university and college students. The drive began early this year as Moscow sought to sustain its war effort into a fifth year. The pitch was carefully constructed: students could sign one-year contracts, receive substantial payments—up to five million rubles, or roughly £43,000, in Moscow—and learn valuable technical skills in a modern, elite branch of the military. Drone operators, recruiters promised, would work away from the front line. The reality has been starkly different.
Vladislav Gorbunov, 18, from a town 70 kilometers north of the Ukrainian border, died four months after signing his contract on April 6th. He had studied railway construction at a technical school and was initially sent to an infantry assault unit before being transferred to drone operations. Rakhim Abdullin was 18 when he enrolled at a mining college to train as a welder, but his studies faltered. In January, just over two weeks after his birthday, he signed a military contract, drawn by the promise that drone work would be safer than other combat roles. By March 13th, he was dead. His mother said: "He left quickly, and he came back quickly."
The recruitment campaign has reached deep into Russia's civilian institutions. By late February, the BBC found evidence of recruitment activity at 95 universities and colleges. By April, that number had grown to nearly 270. Students are targeted with particular intensity if they are struggling academically or considering taking time away from their studies. In some cases, recruitment officers have pressured students directly—one college director in Novosibirsk was recorded calling students cowards for refusing to sign. Some institutions have reportedly been given quotas to send students to the war, though universities have denied such claims.
The human cost of this strategy is becoming visible in casualty figures. At least 920 Russian drone operators have been killed since the full-scale invasion began in February 2022, according to analysis by BBC Russian and Mediazona. That figure comes from publicly available sources and is almost certainly an undercount. Confirmed losses among drone operators are already comparable to those in artillery units, traditionally among the most exposed combat specialisms. The broader death toll is staggering: the BBC has verified 230,407 Russian military deaths through cemetery records, war memorials, government registers, and obituaries. Military experts believe this represents only 45 to 55 percent of actual losses, suggesting the real figure lies between 417,000 and 509,500. Britain's GCHQ estimated the toll at nearly 500,000 in May.
Ukraine's losses are also severe. President Volodymyr Zelensky last acknowledged 55,000 deaths in February 2026, with many more missing. Ukrainian sources suggest total military deaths may reach 213,000, while Dutch military intelligence estimates 500,000 dead, wounded, and missing combined. Replacing the dead and wounded has become essential to Russia's ability to continue the war.
The promises made to student recruits rest on fragile legal ground. Lawyers and rights activists warn that the financial incentives and guarantees of one-year service may not be enforceable. Since Putin's partial mobilization decree in September 2022, military contracts have effectively been extended indefinitely—until mobilization ends. A recruit is highly unlikely to leave after 12 months. Additionally, the defense ministry retains the right to decide whether a recruit is suitable for drone work. Those deemed unsuitable face transfer to other combat units. The carefully constructed pitch—elite status, technical training, safety, and substantial money—dissolves once recruits arrive at their units.
Valery Averin's foster mother, Oksana Afanayeva, watched her son disappear into this machinery. He had grown up in an orphanage in eastern Siberia before she took him in at age 11. He was in his final year at technical school when he was recruited. He told her nothing would happen to him, that everything would be fine. Instead, after three months of training, he was sent into what his foster mother calls "the meat grinder"—a frontal assault, not the protected technical role he had been promised. The war in Ukraine is now drawing its recruits not from barracks or conscription offices, but from classrooms and dormitories across Russia, converting students into soldiers and soldiers into casualties at an accelerating pace.
Citações Notáveis
He studied drones for three months—and yet they still threw him into a frontal assault, into the meat grinder.— Oksana Afanayeva, foster mother of Valery Averin
Because they see the assault troops too, and they are right on the front line.— Elena Abdullin, mother of Rakhim Abdullin, on the reality of drone operator work
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why would Russia specifically target students rather than rely on traditional conscription or volunteer recruitment?
Students represent a pool of young people with technical aptitude and no prior military experience—exactly what the defense ministry said it needed for drone operations. They're also in institutions where recruitment can be organized systematically, and many are at vulnerable moments: struggling academically, considering dropping out, uncertain about their futures.
The contracts promise one year of service. How binding is that promise actually?
Not very. The legal framework changed in 2022 when Putin issued the partial mobilization decree. That decree effectively suspended the ability of soldiers to leave, extending contracts indefinitely. Lawyers and rights activists have flagged this, but the promises made to students don't mention this reality.
So students are being told one thing and experiencing another. But why would drone operators specifically be so dangerous if they're supposed to work away from the front?
Because drone operators have become high-value targets. Both sides hunt them relentlessly—they're central to how this war is actually fought. The casualty figures show drone operators are dying at rates comparable to artillery crews, which are among the most exposed units in any army.
How many students have actually been killed through this recruitment drive?
We know of at least three documented cases—Averin, Gorbunov, Abdullin. But those are just the ones whose stories have surfaced publicly. The real number is almost certainly much higher. The broader context is that Russia has verified losses of over 230,000 military personnel, with the actual figure likely between 417,000 and 509,500.
What happens to a student who gets recruited but isn't deemed suitable for drone work?
They get transferred to another combat unit—potentially infantry, potentially something even more exposed. The defense ministry makes that decision, not the recruit. So the promise of specialized, safer work can evaporate immediately upon arrival.
Is there any enforcement mechanism if Russia breaks these promises to students?
Not really. The contracts are presented as binding on the student, but the state retains enormous discretion. A student can't sue for breach if they're transferred to the front lines. The entire structure is designed to be enforceable in one direction only.