HESA Shahed 136
Based on Wikipedia: HESA Shahed 136
In December 2025, the United States military made an announcement that would have seemed absurd just a few years earlier: America had cloned an Iranian weapon and was deploying it in the Middle East. The Low-cost Uncrewed Combat Attack System, or LUCAS, was a near-exact copy of Iran's Shahed 136 drone. The Pentagon wasn't embarrassed about this reverse-engineering. On the contrary, a U.S. official explained that America's existing precision weapons—more expensive and more sophisticated—had "put our forces at a disadvantage." Now, he said, "we're flipping the script."
How did a drone built from commercial GPS receivers, civilian-grade processors, and a reverse-engineered German lawnmower engine become the weapon that the world's most advanced military felt compelled to copy?
The Geometry of Cheap Destruction
The Shahed 136 looks like a stubby delta-wing aircraft, about eleven feet long with an eight-foot wingspan. Its body blends smoothly into its wings, with small stabilizing fins at the wingtips that make it vaguely resemble a flying manta ray. The nose contains a warhead—somewhere between 66 and 110 pounds of explosives, depending on the variant. At the tail sits a small piston engine driving a two-bladed propeller that pushes the craft through the air.
This "pusher" configuration—with the propeller behind rather than in front—is unusual. It keeps the front of the aircraft clean and gives the warhead an unobstructed path to its target. The whole package weighs about 440 pounds, roughly the weight of a large motorcycle.
The drone is called a "loitering munition," a term that captures its dual nature. It's not quite a missile, which flies a direct path to its target. It's not quite a conventional drone, which returns home after its mission. Instead, it loiters—cruising at highway speeds of around 115 miles per hour, sometimes for hours, until it finds its target or receives final coordinates. Then it dives.
There is no pilot. There is no return. The entire aircraft is the warhead's delivery system, consumed in the explosion. This is why these weapons are also called "suicide drones" or "kamikaze drones," after the Japanese pilots of World War II who crashed their planes into American ships.
A Weapon Built from the Parts Catalog
What makes the Shahed 136 remarkable isn't its sophistication—it's the deliberate lack of it. The drone navigates using a commercial-grade inertial guidance system, the same basic technology found in high-end smartphones. It corrects its position using civilian GPS signals from American satellites and GLONASS signals from Russian ones. Later versions were found with SIM cards and 4G modems of the type you'd find in any mobile phone.
The engine is an Iranian copy of a German Limbach L550E, a small aircraft engine originally designed for ultralight planes and motorized gliders. Limbach engines power hobby aircraft around the world. They're reliable, fuel-efficient, and completely unremarkable.
When researchers examined captured drones, they found electronics from Texas Instruments, RF modules from Analog Devices, chips from Microchip Technology, and processors from Altera (now owned by Intel). A British organization called Conflict Armament Research studied the components and found that 82 percent of the electronic parts were manufactured by American companies.
None of these components were designed for weapons. They're industrial parts, available through normal commercial channels. The Shahed 136 is, in essence, a weapon assembled from the global supply chain of civilian technology.
This is not an accident. It's a strategy.
The Economics of Attrition
The original Iranian production cost for a Shahed 136 was estimated at between $20,000 and $50,000. To put this in perspective, a single American Tomahawk cruise missile costs around $2 million. A Patriot missile, designed to shoot down incoming threats, costs between $2 million and $4 million per shot.
This creates a brutal arithmetic for defenders. If you fire a $4 million Patriot missile at a $30,000 drone, you've won the engagement but lost the war of economics. If the attacker sends ten drones and you shoot down all ten, you've spent $40 million to destroy $300,000 worth of hardware. The attacker can sustain that exchange rate indefinitely. You cannot.
Ukrainian soldiers discovered a partial solution: shoot at the drones with rifles. The Shahed 136 flies low and slow enough—barely faster than a car on a highway—that concentrated small-arms fire can bring one down. The drones are loud enough to hear coming from several kilometers away. In videos from Ukraine, you can hear the distinctive buzzing of the small engine, like an angry lawnmower in the sky, followed by the crackle of rifle fire.
But bullets miss. And when the drones come in swarms—dozens at a time—some always get through.
From Iran to Russia to Mass Production
The first public footage of the Shahed 136 appeared in December 2021. Within months, Russia was using them in Ukraine under the name Geran-2, Russian for "Geranium-2." The Russians repainted them, sometimes in black for night operations, and began iterating on the design.
Initially, these were Iranian-made drones with Russian labels. By November 2022, Russia and Iran had agreed to something more ambitious: Russia would manufacture the drones domestically, with Iran providing key components. A factory was established in the Alabuga Special Economic Zone in Tatarstan, with a target of producing 6,000 drones by summer 2025.
The Russians didn't just copy the Iranian design. They improved it. By October 2022, analysts noticed that the Iranian navigation system had been replaced with a Russian-manufactured flight control unit using GLONASS exclusively, eliminating any dependence on American GPS signals. The fiberglass-and-honeycomb airframe was upgraded to fiberglass over woven carbon fiber. By late 2023, new warhead designs appeared, including one packed with tungsten ball bearings—similar to the shrapnel used in American-made GMLRS rockets—that scattered lethal fragments over a wide area.
A heavier variant emerged in 2024, carrying a 90-kilogram warhead—nearly double the original weight. The trade-off was range: this version could fly only about 400 miles instead of the original 600 to 900. But for targets like power stations and transformer substations, which don't move, range mattered less than explosive power.
The cost of all these improvements was significant. Analysts estimated that the enhanced Russian Geran-2 cost around $80,000 to produce, roughly three times the original Iranian price. But $80,000 is still trivial compared to what it costs to stop one.
The War Against Ukrainian Infrastructure
In October 2022, Russia launched coordinated strikes against Ukraine's power grid using combinations of cruise missiles and Geran-2 drones. The effect was immediate and devastating. Large sections of the grid went dark. Hundreds of towns and villages lost electricity. The attacks continued through the winter, targeting the infrastructure that kept Ukrainians warm and their economy functioning.
The drones proved particularly difficult to stop over cities. A Shahed or Geran shot down after it has reached an urban area doesn't simply disappear—it falls. Wreckage rains onto streets and buildings. In one incident in October 2022, a Ukrainian MiG-29 fighter crashed while attempting to shoot down a Geran-2; according to Ukrainian sources, the drone detonated near the jet and shrapnel struck the cockpit, forcing the pilot to eject.
Ukraine developed multiple countermeasures. Fighters would intercept the slow-moving drones. Ground-based air defense systems engaged them. Soldiers with rifles and machine guns tried to pick them off. Mobile air defense units hunted them in the darkness.
But the drones kept evolving. By May 2025, Ukrainian sources reported that Geran-2 drones had begun avoiding strong light sources at night, presumably using optical sensors to detect searchlights and route around them. Air defense units had to switch to night-vision equipment instead. By June 2025, Ukrainian intelligence had examined a new variant they called the "MS series," which carried an infrared camera and a computer based on Nvidia's Jetson platform—hardware designed for robotics and autonomous vehicles—capable of finding targets autonomously. It could transmit video back in real time. Some were being used as scouts, scanning for mobile air defense units before the main attack arrived.
The Starlink Incident
In September 2024, Ukrainian forces shot down a Geran-2 and found something unexpected in the wreckage: a Starlink satellite communications terminal.
Starlink is the satellite internet constellation operated by SpaceX, Elon Musk's rocket company. It provides internet access through a network of thousands of small satellites in low Earth orbit. The terminals are designed for civilian use—for homes and businesses in remote areas, for ships at sea, for disaster relief operations.
Finding one inside an attack drone was troubling for several reasons. It suggested the Russians were using Starlink to maintain communications with the drone over Ukrainian territory—potentially streaming live video or receiving real-time targeting updates. It raised questions about how military applications were escaping SpaceX's controls. And it demonstrated, once again, how weapons built from civilian technology could exploit the same global infrastructure that civilians depend on.
Previously, experiments had been conducted using 4G modems on the Ukrainian mobile phone network—essentially piggybacking on Ukraine's own telecommunications infrastructure to control weapons attacking Ukraine. Starlink represented an escalation: communications that were harder to jam and didn't depend on ground-based towers that could be destroyed.
Scale of Production
By late spring 2025, Russia was producing around 170 Geran-2 drones per day at the Yelabuga factory. Intelligence estimates suggested a total of about 26,000 had been built. Ukrainian intelligence believed Russia planned to manufacture 40,000 Geran-2 drones in 2025, along with 24,000 "Gerbera" decoys—simpler, cheaper drones designed to overwhelm air defenses and waste interceptor missiles on false targets.
These numbers represent an industrial commitment. They mean dedicated production lines, supply chains for components, training for assembly workers, logistics for delivery to the front lines. They also represent a strategic choice: Russia was investing in quantity over sophistication, in attrition over precision.
The cost of 40,000 Geran-2 drones at $80,000 each would be around $3.2 billion—roughly the cost of two American B-2 stealth bombers, or about a week of total U.S. defense spending. For that investment, Russia could threaten every piece of Ukrainian infrastructure within range, night after night, month after month.
The Components Puzzle
In December 2023, the Ukrainian National Agency on Corruption Prevention published a breakdown of where Geran-2 components came from: 55 parts from the United States, 15 from China, 13 from Switzerland, and 6 from Japan. This mix of origins reflects both the global nature of electronics manufacturing and the difficulty of controlling dual-use technology.
Most electronic components aren't inherently military. A Texas Instruments processor might run a factory's assembly line, a car's navigation system, or a drone's flight controller. Restricting sales becomes a game of whack-a-mole: components flow through trading companies, are relabeled, pass through multiple countries, and emerge in unexpected places.
The British organization Conflict Armament Research, which specializes in tracing weapons components, examined Geran-2 remains and found manufacturing dates spanning from 2020 to 2023. Some Russian components showed dates just weeks before the drones were shot down, indicating a fast-moving production pipeline. Other components dated from before the invasion began, suggesting stockpiles or supply chains established earlier.
This timeline matters because it reveals the limits of sanctions. Even after Western countries restricted technology exports to Russia, components kept appearing in Russian weapons. Whether through pre-war stockpiles, smuggling through third countries, or legitimate commercial channels that hadn't yet been closed, the parts kept flowing.
America Copies the Exam
On December 3, 2025, U.S. Central Command announced the deployment of Task Force Scorpion Strike, operating the LUCAS drone—America's clone of the Shahed 136. The announcement was remarkable for its frankness. The U.S. military wasn't pretending it had developed something new. It had captured a Shahed, taken it apart, figured out how it worked, and built copies.
The LUCAS was developed by SpektreWorks, a small Arizona-based company, in cooperation with the military. Build cost was approximately $35,000—similar to early Shahed production costs. The drones were designed to launch from multiple platforms: catapults, rocket-assisted takeoff, ground vehicles, and ships. On December 16, the littoral combat ship USS Santa Barbara test-launched a LUCAS in the Persian Gulf.
CENTCOM wouldn't say how many LUCAS drones had been built, only that they had "an amount that provides us with a significant level of capability." The message was clear: America had recognized that the economics of cheap, disposable, autonomous weapons had changed warfare, and it was adapting.
SpektreWorks also produces a target drone called the FLM 136, designed to simulate Shahed attacks for training purposes. Its specifications are modestly lower than the Shahed—shorter range, lighter payload—but close enough to give air defense crews realistic practice at shooting down the real thing.
The Genealogy of the Design
Defense analysts have noted that the Shahed 136 bears a striking resemblance to a German design from the 1980s: the Drohne-Anti-Radar, or DAR, developed by Dornier Flugzeugwerke. The DAR was designed as an anti-radiation missile drone, meant to hunt enemy radar installations. It had a similar delta-wing shape and pusher-propeller configuration.
Whether Iran actually copied the German design is an open question. The aerospace industry has a long history of convergent evolution, where similar requirements produce similar shapes. A drone that needs to be cheap, fly far, carry a significant payload, and be launched from simple rails will tend toward certain configurations. The delta wing is efficient. The pusher propeller keeps the front clear. The blended fuselage provides both fuel capacity and structural strength.
But the resemblance is close enough to raise eyebrows, and Iran has a history of reverse-engineering captured or purchased foreign designs. The truth may never be publicly known.
Variants and Evolutions
The Shahed 136 is actually part of a family of weapons. The Shahed 131 is a smaller variant with reduced range and payload. A British report to the United Nations Security Council noted that a Shahed 131 was used in the 2019 attacks on Saudi oil facilities at Abqaiq and Khurais—attacks initially blamed on the 136, but later attributed to the smaller variant and other drone types.
The Iranian versions have continued to evolve in parallel with the Russian ones. A 2023 British report stated that a Shahed 136 variant was used against moving vessels in the Gulf of Oman. Hitting a ship requires more sophisticated guidance than hitting a fixed target; the drone needs sensors to acquire and track a moving object, and possibly an operator receiving a real-time video feed to make final adjustments. Debris from this attack included an Iridium satellite phone SIM card, suggesting the drone was being controlled from beyond line of sight.
The ability to hit moving targets at sea represents a significant capability upgrade. A weapon originally designed for fixed infrastructure could now threaten naval vessels—a prospect that concerns every country with ships transiting the Persian Gulf.
Noise as Signature
One of the Shahed 136's most distinctive features is also one of its limitations: it's loud. The small piston engine produces a buzzing drone that Ukrainian soldiers say they can hear from several kilometers away. In the quiet of night, especially in rural areas, the sound is unmistakable.
This acoustic signature is a trade-off. Jet engines are quieter at distance but vastly more expensive and fuel-hungry. The Shahed's piston engine is cheap, reliable, and fuel-efficient enough to give the drone its impressive range. The penalty is that defenders get warning.
Whether future variants will address this is unclear. Electric propulsion would be quieter but would sacrifice range—batteries are heavy and store far less energy than liquid fuel. Mufflers and sound-dampening materials might help but would add weight and complexity. For now, the drone's designers seem to have accepted the noise as an acceptable cost for the benefits the piston engine provides.
The Countermeasure Arms Race
Every capability spawns counter-capabilities. The Shahed 136's reliance on GPS and GLONASS navigation makes it vulnerable to jamming—systems that broadcast fake satellite signals or simply drown out the real ones. By 2024, Russian-manufactured Geran-2 drones reportedly included "state-of-the-art antenna interference suppression" designed by Iran, using multiple receivers and computer processing to filter out jamming attempts.
The addition of optical sensors—cameras that can see at night, computers that can identify targets visually—represents another response to jamming. A drone that can find its target by looking for it doesn't depend on satellite signals that might be blocked.
The switch to Starlink communications was likely another countermeasure: satellite internet is harder to jam than 4G cellular signals, and the Starlink constellation's sheer number of satellites makes it resilient.
Each countermeasure prompts counter-countermeasures. The defenders improve their jamming; the attackers harden their navigation. The defenders deploy new interceptors; the attackers add decoys. The defenders use searchlights to spot drones at night; the attackers program the drones to avoid bright lights. This cycle has no natural endpoint.
What the Shahed Represents
The Shahed 136 is not the most advanced weapon in any military's arsenal. It's slow, noisy, and built from components you could order online. It can't evade sophisticated air defenses or strike with the pinpoint accuracy of guided bombs.
But it has changed how militaries think about war.
The weapon embodies a philosophy: that quantity has a quality of its own, that good enough is better than perfect if you can make ten times as many, that civilian technology has become sophisticated enough to kill. It demonstrates that industrial capacity—the ability to manufacture thousands of weapons per month—can matter more than technical sophistication. It shows that countries outside the traditional great powers can develop weapons that those powers must take seriously.
When the United States decided to copy the Shahed rather than develop something more advanced, it acknowledged these realities. The LUCAS drone isn't better than American precision weapons; it's cheap. In a world where conflicts can turn into attritional struggles, where factories matter as much as laboratories, where the winner may be whoever runs out of ammunition last, cheap is a capability all its own.
The Shahed 136 is a weapon built for a particular kind of war: long, grinding, industrial. It's not designed to win quickly with shock and awe. It's designed to persist, to outlast, to keep coming night after night until something breaks. In Ukraine, that something was often the power grid. In future conflicts, it might be something else.
The drone that buzzes through the night sky over Kyiv, loud enough to hear from kilometers away, cheap enough to send by the dozen, sophisticated enough to find its target and dive—that drone is the sound of warfare evolving. The countries that understand what it represents, and adapt accordingly, will have advantages in the conflicts to come. The countries that dismiss it as crude or unsophisticated may find themselves, like the defenders trying to shoot it down with rifles, fighting the last war while the next one is already here.