The emphasis of studies intended to identify lessons from the Russo-Ukrainian War tends to fall into three categories: studies of procurement and capability innovation;[1] studies of threat with recommendations on adaptations to tactics, techniques and procedures;[2] and studies of platform effectiveness, especially of uncrewed aerial vehicles (UAVs).[3] Far less has been written on what can be learned from the Armed Forces of Ukraine (AFU) as regards force structure, or the employment of capabilities in combination as it might apply beyond the AFU, let alone the impact of new dependencies within the force on core doctrinal tenets of how Western land forces think they fight.[4] There are arguably three reasons for this. First, there is limited public information about Ukrainian structures and considerable variation within the AFU. As these structural changes have often been driven by necessity, the AFU's approach is not necessarily an optimal one. Second, the AFU comes from a Soviet military cultural tradition that makes its approach hard to transpose to militaries whose culture is rooted in the ‘Western way of war’.[5] Third, there are many who argue that the Russo-Ukrainian War is one conflict, against a specific adversary, on particular terrain, that differs from the defence planning assumptions of many militaries observing the conflict.[6] This being the case, the argument goes that Ukrainian structures and methods have limited relevance beyond their theatre of operations. There are merits to these three considerations. However, the same arguments are also often used to justify a reflexive conservatism within militaries against any significant change to structures or approach.
The Australian Army is very different from the Ukrainian Ground Forces. Australia has a small but highly professional force, postured to operate in littoral environments at considerable reach, with the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) as their presumed adversary.[7] The Ukrainian Ground Forces have considerable experience but are poorly trained, are predominantly a conscripted force with mass, operating on their homeland, and fighting the Armed Forces of the Russian Federation. Nevertheless, there are a range of behaviours and structural changes that have emerged across the AFU that pose important questions for the Australian Army.
This article—based on direct periodic observation of the AFU over a three-year period—is intended to identify areas where changes in the combinations of tools employed by tactical units have driven adaptations in force structure and command relationships that would bear careful consideration by the Australian Army. The article is not intended to outline the Ukrainian approach and argue that Australia should adopt it. Rather it identifies where dynamics in Ukraine are likely to manifest in Australian operations and it outlines some conceptual problems that Australian force planners will need to address.
The article is structured in five parts. The first identifies the characteristics of ground combat in Ukraine that have relevance for the Australian Army. The second discusses the dependencies between new combinations of tools in Ukrainian ground operations and how these may shape Australian thinking. The third examines command and control (C2) structures. The fourth considers the impact of the identified dynamics on mission command, as a core pillar of the Western way of war. The article concludes by drawing out some specific conclusions relating to the Australian Army.
A note on language is necessary. Doctrinal language is very precise. But this very precision can leave the meaning of such language opaque when its use is detached from its application. For example, when writing about a single military, doctrinal language is often a useful tool for achieving precision in expression. By contrast, when comparing several militaries, doctrinal terms do not translate ‘like for like’ and so attempts to adhere to one system can confuse more than illuminate. As a British author writing about Ukrainian concepts in an Australian publication, I have not aligned my language with one of these countries’ doctrinal terminology.
The Characteristics of Ground Combat in Ukraine
Ground operations in Ukraine at the time of writing have several distinct characteristics.
Battlefield Transparency. Both Russian and Ukrainian forces use a high number of UAVs backed up with radar, space-based intelligence, surveillance and reconnaissance (ISR), electromagnetic, acoustic and other sensors to maintain constant observation of the battlefield. Observation is most pervasive within 15 kilometres of the front but is maintained with decreasing density out to 200 kilometres from the front.[8]
Contested and Congested Electromagnetic Spectrum (EMS). Both Russian and Ukrainian forces use electronic protection down to the platoon level and electronic attack in all combat brigades. As a result, navigational interference is pervasive and radio frequency jamming and fratricide are continuous, though there is always some available spectrum.[9]
Mass Precision Strike Throughout Operational Depth. Both Russia and Ukraine hold organic capabilities at all echelons that can strike into the deep of their opposing echelon. In this way, the company and battlegroup can strike out to 15 kilometres, the brigade out to 40 kilometres, and the division out to 90 to 120 kilometres, while higher echelons can strike beyond 500 kilometres at scale. Logistics and sustainment are therefore under persistent attack, with 50 per cent of casualties being taken behind the front lines.
Dispersion of Forces and Capabilities. Both Russian and Ukrainian troops operate in highly dispersed formations with brigade frontages of approximately 15 to 30 kilometres, and squads covering between 70 and 200 metres of ground, while a battalion is usually deployed over 7 to 10 kilometres of depth. When units—like North Korean troops—have fought with greater concentration, they have suffered unsustainable rates of casualties.[10]
Criticality of Complex Terrain. Fighting has pivoted around areas of complex terrain, whether they be rivers, urban areas or dense forests, where troops are protected from the dynamics outlined above. Rates of attrition for both sides, however, have tended to increase within these areas.
To fight within this context several approaches to force structure have been adopted by the AFU. First, the number of UAV operators in units has expanded, with approximately one UAV platoon or company per battalion, a UAV battalion per brigade, and a UAV brigade per operational-tactical group (an incomplete divisional echelon in the AFU) currently being restructured as army corps. Second, dispersion of forces has required more capability to be held organically by tactical units of action such that electronic warfare (EW) and air defence units are now fielded at the company and battalion level respectively and are critical to successful operations, even including platoon attacks. Third, resupply has become an increasingly automated function, carried out from greater distance to avoid persistent attrition. Fourth, command posts have been significantly reduced in size and in their direct engagement with subordinate units to limit their exposure. The relationship between command posts and subordinate units has also been altered. Finally, communications architectures are very different from traditional vertically integrated hub and spoke systems, having moved towards lateral integration enabled by satellite communications.
If we consider the defence planning assumptions for the Australian Army, it may superficially appear that some of these conditions—and therefore their associated implications for the force—do not apply. Australian forces assume that they will be fighting in a heavily vegetated littoral where battlefield transparency is harder to achieve. As both Australia and its opponent would be operating at reach in the Indo-Pacific, electronic attack may be more periodic. Significantly greater ranges in the Indo-Pacific make sensing and striking into operational depth a higher echelon function. Fewer observation assets and small force packets could reduce the need for dispersion within a unit while also increasing the dispersion of larger formations, thereby thinning out the lethal enablers that drive certain tactics in Ukraine. Dense and complex terrain is potentially the norm in the Indo-Pacific rather than the exception. Finally, Australia assumes that it will fight as part of a multinational coalition, led by the United States, obviating the need for some capabilities to be held organically.
There are, in fact, reasons to believe that many of the conditions prevailing in Ukraine are relevant to the Australian Army. First, Both Russia and Ukraine are critically dependent on Chinese equipment and components for those systems that contribute to battlefield transparency.[11] It is sensible to assume that PLA units will increasingly field this equipment at scale in their tactical formations.[12] As regards vegetation, when one examines vital ground—often relating to key terrain features, infrastructure, and main supply routes—then the density of overhead cover is far less than across the Indo-Pacific theatre in aggregate. Furthermore, in areas where forces come into contact, cover from overhead observation is liable to be degraded by fires.
As regards the congested and contested EMS, PLA forces invest heavily in EW equipment.[13] Furthermore, given the logistical constraints imposed across the Indo-Pacific by the need to resupply over the sea, it is disproportionately likely that forces will rely on precision fires to compensate for the difficulties in applying the necessary volumes of statistical fires to assure the requisite operational effect. This places disproportionate value in counterintelligence, surveillance, target acquisition and reconnaissance (ISTAR) capabilities and protection from precision. This situation is liable to encourage EW systems to be fielded with any deployed conventional force, irrespective of the size of the deployed unit.
With regard to the aforementioned advantages of precision in the Indo-Pacific, it is also relevant that the PLA fields large numbers of long-range multiple-launch rocket systems and ballistic and cruise missiles.[14] In addition, PLA doctrine emphasises the use of joint fires to achieve annihilation of enemy forces.[15] Moreover, the requirement to move supplies by sea, and the existence of limited ground infrastructure for heavy transport, are liable to exacerbate the vulnerability of sustainment in the Indo-Pacific as compared with Ukraine.
The size of many formations in the Indo-Pacific will inevitably be smaller than in Ukraine. This is because of the challenges of sustainment and the relatively small size of expeditionary units within the PLA, and even more so for Australia and other nations. Indeed, with Australia having a division assigned to expeditionary operations and a division responsible for homeland defence, while its brigades are small by the standards of most militaries, force density across the area of operations will likely be even lower than in Ukraine. At the tactical level, meanwhile, there is little evidence to suggest that the same battlefield considerations will not keep forces dispersed.
Dense urban population centres around critical infrastructure are likely to be vital ground in the Indo-Pacific, such that operational challenges will revolve around these terrain pieces.[16] Ironically, however, agricultural and industrial activity around these same centres is liable to cause their environs to be less complex than remote areas, such that the approaches to that complex terrain are often more open. How forces operate in such terrain without either concentrating and becoming vulnerable to fires or having large numbers of symmetrical and therefore highly attritional small unit engagements is a serious tactical problem for a force like Australia’s which lacks the depth to suffer significant casualties without a depreciation in force quality.
Australia will likely fight alongside allies and partners. At the sub-tactical level Australia should not assume extensive multinational considerations, given that the country will need to be able to own some problem sets and battlespace if it is to be a net contributor to the coalition. At the tactical and operational level, meanwhile, it is important to note that Ukraine relies on the same multinational partners for surveillance and reconnaissance support, and that the sustainment of the AFU is indeed a multinational effort drawing on many of the same platforms and munitions as would impact Australia. There is a difference in the level of integration. But the difference is insufficient to make the two contexts incomparable.
If we accept, therefore, that the environment and enemy capabilities may impose similar dilemmas in the Indo-Pacific to those experienced in Ukraine, then it follows that we should consider some of the conceptual problems for force structure that have arisen from the adaptations made by fighting forces to address these dilemmas.
Dynamic Dependency in Sub-Unit Operations
As already described, dispersion of units is one of the tactical responses to battlefield transparency and the increased range and precision of fires.[17] By dispersing, infantry units can prepare a greater number of secondary or decoy fighting positions within a relatively small footprint. This reduces the threat that the unit can be systematically targeted with precision fires. Having fewer personnel on each position also reduces the efficiency of an enemy’s fires. A consequence of dispersion, however, is a greater dependency on indirect fire among infantry units. Without it, there is often insufficient combat power on any given position to hold under pressure.[18] Although indirect fire has been a critical support element for over a century, in Ukraine a company group wishing to hold their fighting positions must often deliberately attrit a company attack using organic or attached indirect fire elements over around 15 kilometres of depth. The ability of an opposing company to disperse an attacking force similarly creates problems of concentrating combat power. Small force packets become easily suppressed and, unless they can draw upon indirect fire, often struggle to regain mobility. Dispersion also imposes constraints on tempo, as it becomes dangerous to echelon units through one another, while small force packets lack the ammunition and stores necessary to accelerate through positions.[19]
The efficiency of enemy strikes can be further degraded through the distribution of electronic protection to interfere with enemy precision navigation and timing (PNT). PNT denial is generally erected over company positions in Ukraine while electronic countermeasures are fielded on most vehicles. It is often critical to deny radio frequencies for a period to ensure survivability, especially during activity that requires movement in open ground, whether that be a sub-unit in defence resupplying or a sub-unit conducting an attack. There is, of course, a tension here between dependence on indirect fire and electronic protection. Specifically, if the indirect fire is organic to the company, such support must primarily be achieved through precision fire. This is because the force will inevitably lack the magazine depth required to receive statistical fire with sufficient range to force an enemy attack to disperse. Instead, the force depends on the EMS for the delivery of precision fires and must therefore choose whether to posture itself to deliver effect or to harden itself against it.
Air defence is also a function critical to sub-unit operations in Ukraine. An important caveat to this observation is that air defence is generally not a function performed by dedicated air defence detachments, who sit at a higher echelon. Instead, it involves questions of where a unit’s machine guns are placed, and whether to prioritise fire support or to act as an air defence picket. Similarly, the same UAV teams that enable and deliver indirect fire tend to be able—if supported by appropriate sensors—to intercept enemy reconnaissance UAVs. But it is not feasible for the team to do this and to attrit the enemy in depth. The missions are different, and capacity must be assigned to the one or the other. Given the ubiquity of reconnaissance UAVs, shooting them down tends to produce a window of opportunity for activity, as the enemy must regenerate the UAV orbits.[20]
The capabilities outlined above, necessary for the force to remain survivable while executing tactical actions, have trade-offs between them. Specifically, if a force must be able to deliver indirect fires using UAVs, then it becomes counterproductive to maintain robust electronic protection and air defence. The postures of the different elements must be carefully sequenced. A unit might, for example, prioritise freedom to deliver precision fires against the enemy in preparation for an attack, then pursue counter-reconnaissance with EW and air defence to create the freedom to manoeuvre, then manoeuvre, prioritising fires and direct fire support, then transition to prioritising air defence and fires at the expense of electronic protection to hold the new position, and then return to air defence and electronic defence to enable resupply on the position.[21] Whichever priority is being pursued exposes the force to vulnerability, as well as opportunity. Very often, it is the coherent transition between these postures that gives the force an advantage. In terms of how sequencing can fail, an advancing force can have a successful counter-reconnaissance fight, only to find that electronic protection efforts by its opponent prevent fires enabling manoeuvre. As a consequence, the advancing force can become suppressed, extending the timeline of an attack and therefore enabling the enemy to regenerate overhead observation such that the advancing force becomes exposed to fire.
There are several approaches to the synchronisation of arms and the coordination of the transitions outlined above. First, there is the centralised approach whereby all elements report to a headquarters and the staff direct the elements through the transitions. This method has the advantage of being responsive to context on the battlefield while retaining coherence in relation to a unified plan. As the echelon at which this synchronisation of arms occurs becomes lower, however, such an approach may be unwise. This is because of the viability of a sufficiently large headquarters, its electromagnetic exposure, and its vulnerability as a single point of failure.[22] Second, units may use a distributed approach of battle drills and procedures to adjust their posture in response to pre-agreed situations. The challenge here is that it becomes harder to coordinate combat and support arms based on drills when sub-units that are not in line of sight require increased levels of synchronisation. The third approach is deliberate mission planning and rehearsal, allowing for the maintenance of coherence while avoiding centralised direction. In Ukraine, this approach has proven most successful, but it is also brittle, requiring operations to be delayed when conditions change and preventing exploitation of success beyond the planned objective.
In summation, therefore, the problem against which forces need to plan is a diversifying array of arms (necessary for successful sub-unit operations) combined with increasingly dynamic dependencies between them. It is not really accurate to consider some of the combat arms and other support arms in this context as threat manifests in depth. Therefore, who is supported and who is supporting has become highly contextualised. Although transitions between support and supported relationships are considered in doctrine as part of planning, the position is now often flipped by the enemy. The question therefore becomes how a force can rapidly identify and execute these transitions while dispersed.
Lateral Integration
Having described how current operations in Ukraine are creating dynamic and novel combined arms dependencies in sub-unit operations, it becomes possible to discuss the force structure implications. Both Russian forces and forces fighting according to the Western way of war have, for some time, pursued a high level of vertical integration in force structure. To use artillery as an example, the exact structure varies by military but the overall approach has consistent characteristics. Suppose, for example, that a battery from a brigade is assigned to support a battlegroup operation. A company commander, executing the battlegroup operation, may determine that fire support is needed and request this. The commander holding the guns must then assess this request against the risk to the guns—whether the mission is worth the risk of unmasking—and against ammunition levels and the requirements for other fire missions. If a determination to accept the fire mission is made, then the forward fire controller within the artillery battery supporting the unit will be responsible for calling for battery fire. This individual will also warn comrades in the unit to which they are attached about the timing and proximity of the fire mission.[23] This process, therefore, requires the vertical integration of communications between the company, the battalion and potentially the brigade command post, and between the fire controller and battery.
Both Russia and Ukraine have diverged significantly from this approach over the course of the conflict. First, as forces have dispersed, the ability to have a fire controller in a position where they can effectively call for fire is rarely assured. Second, the patterns of communications exposed by this approach tend to enable the enemy to map the key nodes of a force with direction finding. Third, in a contested EMS—or in complex terrain—a vertically integrated approach introduces significant latency into fires. Most important, however, this approach is not necessary.
Most Ukrainian artillery batteries have generally replaced their forward fire controller with a UAV team. This team will push its orbits to areas of interest to the commander of the echelon at which they sit. However, the battery and the commander are not limited to this feed. Almost all uncrewed aerial systems (UAS) at echelon or below will upload their feeds to a common system, and anyone with appropriate credentials can log into any of these UAS and see through their eyes. Thus, while the artillery battery may have its organic UAS looking elsewhere, if the brigade command post observes a target that it wishes to prioritise (either through UAS attached to the battalion command post, through the brigade reconnaissance unit, or operated by the company in contact), then it can direct the battery to bring up the appropriate feed and then to deliver a fire mission and adjust fire from the feed. With each element having a satellite internet module, the signature of the whole force remains flat. Specifically, it appears as a series of dispersed uplink and downlink terminals with no distinguishing features of traffic. The uplinks and downlinks meanwhile are separated from the positions such that, while the enemy may know an area is occupied, they cannot determine where the target is within that area or what the target is. While the company in contact can submit a request via data (by dropping a pin for a fire mission) and can facilitate that mission (by ensuring that its organic UAS has eyes on the target), this is not required for the battery to engage.
To look at an even more pronounced example of the shift in communications structures, consider EW. Within most Western militaries, spectrum deconfliction and electronic attack are capabilities held at division level and above, with EW teams often attached at lower echelons. This is as much a reflection of there being a limited number of personnel with the relevant expertise as it is a consequence of capability. Although electronic countermeasures were distributed down to the platoon-multiple in Afghanistan (the additional weight requiring a functional squad/section expanding to 11 to 15 personnel), these jammers were usually assigned fixed frequencies, were deconflicted from communications prior to the operation, and were updated based on higher echelon exploitation and analysis of captured improvised explosive devices (IEDs).[24] In Ukrainian and Russian forces, EW is available at the company level. Jamming is adjusted regularly as the enemy moves its control frequencies, and this is done in the unit. In some cases, systems chase enemy frequency changes through the spectrum such that jamming within a particular piece of battlespace is not in one frequency band. Moreover, enemy systems that adjust frequency in response to jamming do not necessarily do so within a pre-assigned and deconflicted pattern.
There is widespread fratricide between units in the EMS in Ukraine. In an operation in Pokrovsk in January 2025, for example, a battalion UAV unit was assigned a series of targets to engage over a two-hour period which had been identified over the previous 12 hours. The UAS teams moved into their selected launch and control points and endeavoured to launch their UAS. Although their battalion had deconflicted its electronic protection to enable the launch, the neighbouring units had not. Nor was it straightforward to identify which element of the units on the flanks was still jamming. The result was that a two-hour operation became an eight-hour operation as the UAV teams sought to open a window in friendly jamming to execute their strikes.[25]
The approach to EMS deconfliction in Western armies should theoretically avoid this scenario because higher headquarters have the potential to coordinate the operations of units together. In practice, however, the character of the EW fight is localised and reactive to the enemy and is occurring with so many units that an attempt to centralise deconfliction efforts tends to saturate the higher headquarters and paralyse the lower headquarters, and leads to very high volumes of traffic up and down echelons. In practice, therefore, such an approach to de-confliction has proven non-viable. However, lateral integration of the force (whereby a company deconflicts organic assets continuously and then engages with its neighbouring companies to deconflict for specific operations at the tactical level) actually produces far less fratricide and far less dependency and communications traffic. The reality is that higher echelons do not need to try so hard to deconflict with subordinate echelons. For example, because it is on the line of contact, a higher echelon can deal with the situation of a UAV overflying a company position by simply using electromagnetic survey data to plan its flight paths based on EW. This type of approach has a far better chance of achieving higher rates of mission success.
Three contrasting experiences with military units highlight the difference between the Ukrainian and Western approaches. In October 2021 I was in a company command post of a highly capable Western military unit. The command post had some access to battlespace management software on a couple of laptops, but the primary means by which it tracked the battle were scheduled radio reports from subordinate elements, used to update a physical map board. The command post was small and would have had no ability to deconflict the range of capabilities outlined above. Three years later, when I joined another Western company command post from the same nation in March 2024, there was a much greater degree of digitisation, reflecting the introduction into the unit of a range of the capabilities described above. The size of the command post, however, had expanded rapidly such that it had a much larger footprint and signature with an associated need for almost constant communication with subordinate elements. By contrast, when I visited a Ukrainian company command post in February of the same year, six people had comparable levels of information, while radio traffic was minimal. The units were able to monitor the battle in real time and apply effects organically from their echelon. The reason was that lateral integration created a smaller and more capable command layer. Most importantly, the ability to draw on the feeds of neighbouring units ensured that the company could make decisions that were coherent with activity on its flanks without the need to coordinate with a higher headquarters. The degree to which this has been achieved in Ukrainian units is variable. But where it has, it allows for synchronisation of effects beyond line of sight with much smaller staffs. It is worth noting that the Israel Defence Forces (IDF) have come to very similar conclusions as to how to restructure decision-making, having embarked on a much more deliberate process of force design than Ukraine. Contrasting the IDF’s performance in ground combat in Lebanon in 2006 with their performance in 2024 against a more capable Hezbollah, there is a significant amount of evidence to demonstrate that the lateral integration of the force produces a much more efficient kill chain.[26]
Convergence and Mission Command
Lateral integration of the force—as described above—offers units significant situational awareness concerning what is taking place on the battlefield. Training in Western militaries, however, is largely premised on decision-making under conditions of uncertainty. To move from the force structure implications of dynamic support relationships—lateral integration supplanting vertical integration—to the cultural challenges created by this change, it is important to reflect on mission command.
There are various definitions of mission command among those militaries that pursue it as a doctrine,[27] but it has consistent principles and is an attempt to solve a specific problem.[28] In war, operations almost always deviate from planning because of friction and enemy agency. Once committed, forces struggle to come back together and coordinate. Therefore, if they wait for instructions when the circumstances before them differ from expectations, then the force is generally paralysed. The Russian approach—of using rigid battle drills in response to events—makes the force predictable and gameable. By contrast, Western militaries generally delegate authorities to commanders to exercise judgement and to adjust the execution of a plan, so long as it moves the force towards the predefined commander’s intent. In essence the reason for mission command is an assumption that units become isolated over time. Mission command is intended to enable such units to nevertheless act independently in a coherent manner.
The modern battlefield is no longer characterised by the conditions of isolation and information scarcity in which the principles of mission command originally emerged in the Prussian Army of the 19th century. Under the conditions of pervasive observation that characterise the modern battlefield, it is not just observation of the enemy that is possible, but also real-time observation of friendly forces. Of the six orbits of UAVs generated by a battalion command post in Ukraine, for example, four are usually tasked with observing the line of contact from a position stood back from the front in order to track hostile and friendly forces. The other two orbits are dedicated to reconnaissance.[29] In theory, this configuration should allow for better decision-making by commanders because they have a high fidelity of information. In practice, however, and largely for cultural reasons, it often drives a series of negative behaviours.
When one examines the feeds from instrumented training areas, whether they be at Australia’s Combat Training Centre,[30] the US National Targeting Centre,[31] or the Salisbury Plain Training Area in the UK,[32] it is evident that even highly capable military units behave suboptimally against any given tactical scenario. This reflects the impact of friction. The training audience must understand the situation they are confronting and respond appropriately. Invariably the courses of action taken across a formation are imperfect, given imperfect knowledge of the problem they are trying to solve. These imperfections are used by the directing staff during debriefs as points of discussion with the training audience. This is not done because anyone expects that a unit will, in the future, execute perfectly. Rather, the purpose is to build awareness within the unit of what an ideal situation looks like. This helps to ensure that military elements have a shared understanding of this ideal, while improving the unit’s cohesion and overall performance. In short, the expectation is that the ideal is aspired to, rather than attained.
Under modern combat conditions, higher headquarters are often able to observe the battlefield with a level of fidelity that was historically available only to directing staff on instrumented ranges. Under these conditions, senior commanders, watching the growing incoherence of subordinate elements operating according to mission command, have a strong tendency to intervene in an effort to improve the coherence of the force or optimise its execution. In Ukraine, for example, it is not uncommon for General Oleksandr Syrskyi—the Chief of the Defence Staff—to directly contact, receive updates from, and direct tactical activity by battalion or company commanders on sectors he deems a high priority.[33] This is not a uniquely Ukrainian problem. It is understandable that senior commanders, exposed to high-fidelity tactical data, will often feel compelled to exercise control. First, they generally have more experience of tactical operations than of operational command. Therefore, when they are under pressure, reverting to tactical activity can be highly comforting. Second, senior commanders often feel compelled to try to protect their people when they see problems arising that they fear will lead to casualties. This phenomenon, however, has serious tactical and operational consequences. Tactically, it often leads to paralysis among subordinate units and a loss of tempo as units begin to wait for higher echelon direction. Meanwhile, intermediate echelons lose understanding of the higher command’ intent and become passive. They then struggle to reassert control once interest from the higher command shifts elsewhere. Operationally, the higher headquarters begins to reassign capacity to tactical activity and tracking at the expense of operational decision-making.
Educating commanders to avoid becoming fixated by the tactical activity they can observe is a necessary element of training but is not in itself sufficient. This is because in some contexts it is appropriate for the higher headquarters to intervene. For example, consider a company in the attack which succeeds in breaking through an enemy position and starts to exploit this success. At the same time, the assets that had been extending electronic protection become disrupted by the opponent’s artillery. The battalion conducting the attack has a very limited ability to assess the footprint of its electronic protection. Higher headquarters, however, often can see this boundary because they have access to surveys of the electromagnetic spectrum. Under these conditions, it is consequential and beneficial for the higher headquarters to intervene to warn the company as to the geographic boundary beyond which they will begin taking disproportionately higher casualties if they continue to advance.
The concept of convergence—often difficult to visualise—can become tangible in this context and offers a useful framework to conceptualise how to overcome these problems. In essence, mission command envisages multiple groups acting in varying levels of isolation, but nevertheless able to advance their own position relative to the plan so that, collectively, that plan can be delivered. Convergence should see connected groups acting to advance other groups’ positions relative to the plan.[34] A higher command, therefore, observing suboptimal but nonetheless collectively beneficial actions, should avoid trying to cohere all subordinate activity. Instead it should seek to employ effects under direct command to protect, enable, and compensate for the errors made by the force as it manoeuvres. Equally, it might operate to build on the opportunities subordinate units create and the vulnerabilities they impose on the adversary. Similarly, the luxury of situational awareness within a higher echelon enables sub-units to move to support one another, and not simply to advance themselves in accordance with commander’s intent. On a battlefield, where the combination and complexity of effects necessary to achieve success is increasing, this ability to converge becomes critical to maintaining lethality, survivability and therefore endurance. Perhaps the most intriguing consequence of convergence is that in Ukraine, for example, lateral integration allows for cross-boundary fires to actually be the predominant form of engagement against an enemy axis of advance.
And for the Australian Army?
Lessons from Ukraine will not translate directly to an Australian context and it is not the case that Australian forces should adopt wholesale Ukrainian methods. However, there are concepts that were hypothesised prior to the war in Ukraine that have been clarified by the conflict. Prior to Russia’s full-scale invasion there was an active debate as to whether EW would functionally deny communications and thereby force units to operate ‘unplugged’.[35] Operations in Ukraine, however, demonstrate that even against highly capable EW actors, networking remains possible and the risk of losing situational awareness cedes greater tactical advantage than the risk from enemy direction finding. Understanding that a high degree of connectivity can be made robust clarifies the extent to which advantage in this area should be fought for. But once the force has a significant uplift in situational awareness, maximising the utility of this capability goes beyond adding equipment and capability into existing structures. It enables the force to operate differently.
Perhaps the most relevant and important lesson from Ukraine for Australian forces is the value of both ‘beyond line of sight’ observation and strike capabilities that are organic to all fighting echelons, combined with the mutual support made possible through lateral integration. For the Australian Army, whose echelons in a future conflict may be separated by significant geographical features because of the characteristics of littoral warfare, time and distance will impose severe limitations on the ability of higher echelons to support subordinate elements. Mutual support among forward deployed units, therefore, will be critical. Given the small size of Australian forces—with a correspondingly greater impact from unfavourable outcomes of tactical activity—there are likely to be strong incentives for higher echelons to try to control activity at reach. In practice, however, while it is feasible that higher echelons will see tactical activity in significant fidelity, it is likely more important that tactical units can collaborate at the edge.
Finally, the Australian Army has a strong conceptual foundation for dealing with the changing character of war because the Australian combat team is conceptualised as a mission-specific grouping of capabilities. The idea of leveraging new attachments, therefore, is not a major change for how Australian forces operate. Moreover, Australian units have proven innovative and willing to grasp emerging capabilities. However, whether it be 7 Signals Regiment or 20 Regiment, Royal Australian Artillery, it is less evident that the Army has geared its force generation to have a sufficient number of UAS and EW operators to make these core elements of combined arms combat teams, rather than novel and mission-specific attachments or higher echelon enablers. Similarly, Australia has been farsighted in some of its procurement decisions—such as acquiring a main armament for its Boxer reconnaissance vehicles that can engage aerial targets. But it is not yet clear whether units fielding Boxer are sized to allow or have battle drills that will allow air defence to be a continuous activity to protect the unit from a persistent threat. There are many more examples that could be drawn out. The point is that as the relevant components of combined arms manoeuvre evolve, it is vital that the Australian Army retains access to a sufficient density of the requisite capabilities to keep its forces survivable.
Endnotes
[1] Olena Bilousova, Emir Omelchenko, Maksym Makarchuk and Tymofiy Mylovanov, Ukraine’s Drones Industry: Investments and Product Innovations (KSE Institute, 2024), at: https://kse.ua/wp-content/uploads/2024/10/241004-Brave1-report-v.1.pdf.
[2] Jack Watling, Oleksandr V Danylyuk and Nick Reynolds, Preliminary Lessons from Ukraine’s Offensive Operations, 2022–23 (London: Royal United Services Institute, 2024), at: https://static.rusi.org/lessons-learned-ukraine-offensive-2022-23.pdf.
[3] Kateryna Bondar, Ukraine’s Future Vision and Current Capabilities for Waging AI-Enabled Autonomous Warfare (CSIS, 2025), at: https://csis-website-prod.s3.amazonaws.com/s3fs-public/2025-03/250306_Bondar_Autonomy_AI.pdf?VersionId=E2h8uqROea77udoc_og82HWsrfgfJRTZ.
[4] Notable exceptions include Amos Fox, ‘Setting the Record Straight on Attrition’, War on the Rocks, 30 January 2024; and Franz-Stefan Gady and Michael Kofman, ‘Making Attrition Work: A Viable Theory of Victory for Ukraine’, IISS (website), 9 February 2024.
[5] Peter Roberts, The Western Way of War (Havant: Howgate Publishing, 2024).
[6] It seems unfair to single anyone out for this argument as I lose count of the number of meetings with general officers where this argument is made. While the refrain that ‘we would not do it that way’ is often true, it also often becomes an excuse to avoid confronting issues that would be expensive and disruptive to resolve.
[7] Australian Government, Defence Strategic Review (Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia, 2023).
[8] Author observations of the common air defence picture, revealing some 1,200 to 1,500 Russian long-range reconnaissance UAV orbits over Ukraine per day and a density of UAVs in tactical depth of around 25 hostile orbits per 10 kilometres of front on primary axes.
[9] Author observation of Ukrainian spectral surveys of the battlespace.
[10] Author engagement with Ukrainian brigades along the line of contact, January 2025. For more information see Jack Watling and Nick Reynolds, Tactical Developments During the Third Year of the Russo–Ukrainian War (London: Royal United Services Institute, 2025), at: https://static.rusi.org/tactical-developments-third-year-russo-ukrainian-war-february-2205.pdf.
[11] The author has worked extensively with Ukraine’s Central Scientific Institute for Research and Armaments of the Armed Forces of Ukraine, deconstructing UAVs and tracing their components. China is the predominant source of both UAVs and sub-components for them, and where critical components are sourced from the West they are often shipped through Hong Kong as a trans-shipment hub.
[12] Anshuman Narang, ‘PLA’s Unmanned Vehicles’ Employment in Western Theatre Command’, Synergy 2, no. 2 (2023): 70–110.
[13] Matthew Funaiole, Joseph Bermudez and Brian Hart, ‘China Is Ramping Up Its Electronic Warfare and Communications Capabilities Near the South China Sea’, CSIS (website), 17 December 2021, at: https://www.csis.org/analysis/china-ramping-its-electronic-warfare-and-communications-capabilities-near-south-china-sea; J Michael Dahm, Electronic Warfare and Signals Intelligence: A Survey of Military Technologies and Capabilities on China’s Military Outposts in the South China Sea, South China Sea Military Capability Series (Johns Hopkins University, 2020), at: https://apps.dtic.mil/sti/pdfs/AD1128255.pdf; Edward Black and Sidharth Kaushal, ‘The Humble Brag: China’s Recent Wargame and Its Implications’, RUSI Commentary, 23 January 2025, at: https://www.rusi.org/explore-our-research/publications/commentary/humble-brag-chinas-recent-wargame-and-its-implications.
[14] Ma Xiu, PLA Rocket Force Organisation (China Aerospace Studies Institute, 2022), at: https://www.airuniversity.af.edu/CASI/Display/Article/3193056/pla-rocket-forceorganization/.
[15] Li Yousheng, Lianhe zhanyi xuejiaocheng [Lectures on the Science of Joint Campaigns] (Beijing: Military Science Press, 2012), p. 72.
[16] This has been noted for some time—see David Kilcullen, Out of the Mountains: The Coming Age of the Urban Guerrilla (Oxford: OUP, 2015).
[17] Historical Trends Related to Weapons Lethality (Washington DC: Historical Evaluation and Research Organisation, 1964), at: https://apps.dtic.mil/sti/tr/pdf/AD0458757.pdf.
[18] Randy Noorman, ‘The Return of the Tactical Crisis’, Modern War Institute (website), 27 March 2024.
[19] This was a problem also observed in Afghanistan—see Nick Reynolds, ‘Learning Tactical and Operational Combat Lessons for High-End Warfighting from Counterinsurgency’, The RUSI Journal 164, no. 7 (2019): 42–53.
[20] Author observations and interviews with brigade and battalion commanders in Donetsk and Zapporizhzhia, February 2024 to January 2025.
[21] For more details on tactical counter unmanned aerial systems see Jack Watling and Justin Bronk, Protecting the Force from Uncrewed Aerial Systems (London: Royal United Services Institute, 2024), at: https://static.rusi.org/protecting-the-force-from-uncrewed-uas.pdf; and for EW see Jack Watling and Noah Sylvia, Competitive Electronic Warfare in Modern Land Operations (London: Royal United Services Institute, 2025), at: https://www.rusi.org/explore-our-research/publications/occasional-papers/competitive-electronic-warfare-modern-land-operations.
[22] The US has sought to overcome this problem technologically through the pursuit of mosaic warfare—see Bryan Clark, Dan Patt and Harrison Schramm, Mosaic Warfare: Exploiting Artificial Intelligence and Autonomous Systems to Implement Decision-Centric Operations’ (CSBA, 2020), at: https://csbaonline.org/uploads/documents/Mosaic_Warfare.pdf.
[23] Consider, for example, the anticipated number of echelons involved in the Russian reconnaissance-strike complex prior to the full-scale invasion of Ukraine—see Lester Grau and Charles Bartles, The Russian Reconnaissance Fire Complex Comes of Age (Oxford: Changing Character of War Centre, 2018), at: https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55faab67e4b0914105347194/t/5b17fd67562fa70b3ae0dd24/1528298869210/The+Russian+Reconnaissance+Fire+Complex+Comes+of+Age.pdf.
[24] For an overview of the counter-IED enterprise see Alistair Beard, ‘IV. Overcoming the IED Threat in Afghanistan’, Whitehall Papers 101, no. 1 (2023): 59–75.
[25] Author discussion with participants in the operation, Ukraine, January 2025.
[26] Author observation of Israeli C2 during operations and discussions with IDF personnel, Israel, March 2024.
[27] Compare for example the US Army’s ADP 6.0 Mission Command, at: https://armypubs.army.mil/epubs/DR_pubs/DR_a/ARN34403-ADP_6-0-000-WEB-3.pdf; with the British Army’s ADP Land Operations, Chapter 6, at: https://assets.publishing.service.gov.uk/media/677fe2d4d721a08c0066560c/Army_Doctrine_Publication_land_operations__withdrawn_25_May_2022_.pdf.
[28] Eitan Shamir, Transforming Command: The Pursuit of Mission Command in the U.S., British, and Israeli Armies (Redwood City CA: Stanford University Press, 2011).
[29] Author discussion with brigade and battalion staffs, Ukraine, January 2025.
[30] Author discussions with directing staff at Combat Training Centre and review of data on training audiences, September 2024.
[31] Author observations of US units at National Targeting Centre, March 2024.
[32] Author observations of training on Salisbury Plain, September 2023.
[33] Author observation of this taking place in Ukraine, 2023–2025.
[34] US Army, The U.S. Army in Multi-Domain Operations 2028, TRADOC Pamphlet 525-3-1 (2018).
[35] Scott Pence, ‘Fighting as Intended: The Case for Austere Communications’, Joint Forces Quarterly 102 (2021). The language used by senior officers for many years emphasised the danger of communicating; see Mike Eckel, ‘Ex-U.S. Army Commander Warns of Russian Capabilities in Ukraine’, Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty, 24 January 2018—and General Hodge’s sentiments have continued to be expressed by senior officers, usually sceptical of network-dependent operations.
