Tempest: Ukraine’s Improvised Shield in the Air War

Wednesday 14 January 2026

The air war over Ukraine has never been a contest of symmetry. From the opening days of Russia’s full-scale invasion, Moscow sought to impose dominance through massed missile strikes, attack aviation and, later, waves of Iranian-designed Shahed loitering munitions. Ukraine, for her part, confronted this onslaught with a patchwork of inherited Soviet systems, rapidly supplied Western equipment and an extraordinary degree of improvisation. Out of this environment emerged a family of locally assembled, adaptive air-defence solutions often grouped under the informal designation ‘Tempest’—not a single weapon in the classical sense, but a concept and a practice reflecting how Ukraine has learned to defend her skies with what she has to hand.

Tempest should be understood less as a branded programme than as an approach: mobile, layered, and designed to close gaps that no strategic air-defence system can fully cover. Where high-end Western systems are optimised to intercept ballistic missiles or cruise missiles at range, Tempest units are intended to counter the quotidian threat that defines daily life in Ukraine: low-flying drones, slow cruise missiles and opportunistic helicopter or fixed-wing intrusions near the front.

At its core, a Tempest unit typically combines three elements. First is mobility. Platforms are mounted on light trucks or armoured vehicles that can relocate quickly, operate briefly, and move again before Russian counter-fire or reconnaissance drones can fix their position. Second is sensor fusion. These units integrate commercially available radars, thermal imagers, acoustic sensors and battlefield situational-awareness software, allowing operators to detect threats that may be invisible to strategic radars focused elsewhere. Third is flexible armament. This may include heavy machine guns, automatic cannon, man-portable air-defence missiles, or adapted aircraft weapons repurposed for ground-based use.

This hybridity is deliberate. Ukraine’s strategic air-defence assets are precious and finite. They cannot be everywhere, nor should they be expended against every inexpensive drone. Tempest fills the space between civilian vulnerability and strategic protection. A Shahed drone intercepted by a mobile gun-and-missile team is one that does not force Ukraine to expend a costly interceptor missile or allow a power substation, grain silo or apartment block to be struck.

The intellectual origins of Tempest lie in necessity rather than doctrine. Ukraine inherited from the Soviet Union a deeply centralised air-defence philosophy, designed for massed, state-on-state warfare. Russia’s campaign, however, has been characterised by dispersed, persistent and relatively cheap aerial threats. Ukraine’s response has therefore been to decentralise detection and engagement, empowering local commanders and territorial defence units with tools that are robust, intelligible and adaptable.

There is also a political economy to Tempest. Many components are produced or assembled inside Ukraine, often by small private firms working in close proximity to frontline units. This short feedback loop allows designs to be modified within weeks rather than years. If a radar proves vulnerable to jamming, it is replaced or shielded. If a weapon mount lacks stability, it is reinforced. In this sense, Tempest exemplifies a wartime innovation culture that has become one of Ukraine’s most significant strategic assets.

A striking recent addition to this mosaic has been the arrival of a new United States-origin air-defence “buggy” armed with guided missiles, now operating in Ukraine. Developed by the Virginia-headquartered defence firm V2X, this lightweight, four-wheeled vehicle carries a pair of AGM-114 Hellfire missiles—American air-to-surface weapons long associated with attack helicopters and armed drones—adapted here for an air-defence role. According to Ukrainian Air Command sources, these buggy-mounted systems have already scored multiple kills against incoming Shahed drones, demonstrating both mobility and lethality in the counter-uncrewed aerial systems role. 

This new variant retains the Tempest ethos. It operates as a “shoot-and-scoot” platform: detecting a target, launching its missiles in a fire-and-forget mode and relocating before enemy forces can react. The Hellfire missiles mounted on the vehicle appear to be Longbow variants with radar guidance, allowing them to autonomously track low-flying threats once launched. In the context of Ukraine’s drone-saturated battle space, the capacity to engage fast, small targets with precision weapons is a tangible advantage. 

Yet this innovation also highlights persistent trade-offs. The buggy’s light chassis confers mobility but no armour, making it suitable for rear-area defence or rapid repositioning rather than prolonged front-line exposure. It carries only a limited missile load and requires nearby logistical support for sustained operations. Russian forces, for their part, are not passive; they continue to evolve their own use of uncrewed systems and electronic counter-measures. 

Tempest’s limitations are real and acknowledged. It cannot substitute for long-range air defence, nor can it provide comprehensive coverage against massed missile salvos. Its effectiveness depends heavily upon trained crews, disciplined fire control and constant logistical support. Moreover Russia adapts in turn, varying flight profiles and employing decoys to saturate local defences. Yet these constraints do not negate Tempest’s value. On the contrary, they underline its role as part of a layered system rather than a solitary solution.

The broader significance of Tempest—and now its American-backed buggy variant—lies in what it reveals about Ukraine’s conduct of the war. Faced with an adversary that retains quantitative advantages in missiles and aircraft, Ukraine has chosen not to mirror Russia’s methods but to frustrate them. By denying easy targets and forcing Russian planners to expend resources on ever more complex strike packages, systems like Tempest impose costs disproportionate to their material simplicity.

In the longer term Tempest points towards a future model of air defence that may interest militaries far beyond Ukraine. As drones proliferate and airspace becomes increasingly contested at low altitude, the distinction between civilian and military defence will blur. Mobile, locally integrated systems may become as essential to national resilience as high-end strategic assets.

For Ukraine however, Tempest is not an abstract lesson in military theory. It is a practical shield, raised night after night by crews who listen for engines in the dark, watch flickering radar screens and fire when the moment comes. In a war defined by endurance as much as firepower, that modest, improvised shield—now enhanced by Western innovation—has become an indispensable part of how Ukraine survives.