By Galina Korol | 2026-02-11

Kapustin Yar is usually described in the language of military reports: launches, trajectories, range. Long before it became a launch point for missiles aimed at Ukraine, however, it was also a place where young men served out their compulsory military duty in the Soviet army.

In 1978, Vitaliy Skobelskiy, a journalist from Ukraine's Poltava Region and a graduate of the Poltava Electrical Engineering Institute, completed his service at one of the Soviet Union's most remote military test sites.

"Wherever you ended up on the test site, you were sure to run into someone from home or a former classmate," Skobelskiy told Kontur.

Ukrainians at the range

According to Skobelskiy, Ukrainians were a constant presence at Kapustin Yar, both among officers and rank-and-file soldiers. The assignment required more than physical endurance and discipline. It demanded strong technical training, something Skobelskiy attributed to Ukrainian education.

The site's first commander reinforced that legacy. Colonel-General of Artillery Vasily Voznyuk, who led Kapustin Yar for 27 years, was Ukrainian and originally from Vinnytsia Region.

Kapustin Yar itself was vast, consisting of dozens of separate units stretching from Astrakhan Region into the Kazakh steppe, all linked by a single mission: missile testing.

Skobelskiy served at an isolated station deep in the steppe, where even basic living conditions were primitive. The post relied on nonpotable water for drinking.

"The barracks were hut-like; each one had its own boiler room, and they were heated with coal," he said.

From these stations, personnel monitored missile flight paths. They gathered telemetry, pressure and speed data, Skobelskiy said, noting that missiles at the time carried no payloads. After launches, service members were dispatched across the steppe to locate fallen fragments -- not for scrap, but to ensure no classified material remained exposed.

Missiles were launched from Kapustin Yar-1, which in 1996 became the closed military town of Znamensk, accessible only with special permits.

Established immediately after World War II, Kapustin Yar became the backbone of the Soviet missile program.

"The majority of the Soviet and Russian missiles were tested at this site," Alexander Kovalenko, an analyst for the website InfoResist, told Kontur. That testing included both military systems and civilian launch vehicles.

The physical infrastructure has barely changed since Soviet times.

"I wouldn't say that today it's changed in any way since Soviet times. All you need to do is look at the village of Kapustin Yar and when you see what it looks like, everything fits together," Kovalenko said.

Poverty by the fence

Next to the closed town of Znamensk sits another Kapustin Yar, a small civilian village visible on Google Maps but largely absent from official narratives.

"It's a very old village. Once upon a time it was rather wealthy, but now it's fallen into deep ruin," Oleg Shein, a Russian politician and former State Duma member from Astrakhan Region who has been designated a foreign agent in Russia, told Kontur.

As the Kremlin launches Oreshnik missiles toward Ukraine -- each estimated by experts to cost about $40 million -- residents of Kapustin Yar lack basic infrastructure. Many homes are not connected to gas lines, even when pipelines run beneath their windows. The village's aging water main remains unrepaired, leaving residents without reliable drinking water.

"According to official data, only about 72% of the population in the entire region has access to clean drinking water," Shein said, adding that about 250,000 people receive water that fails to meet health and safety standards. Kapustin Yar is among the affected communities.

Efforts to secure safe running water have dragged on for years.

"For a very long time the people there have been waging a campaign, and are still waging it, to get decent running water," Shein said.

Road paving is another chronic issue. Responsibility lies with local budgets, which lack the resources to undertake major infrastructure projects, he said.

About 5,000 people live in the village. Jobs are scarce. Those who can commute travel to Znamensk, while others survive on pensions or minimal wages. Agriculture offers little relief, as the area lacks the fertile fields found farther south in the region.

Against that backdrop, the cost of a single Oreshnik missile appears especially stark. Ukrainian outlet Obozrevatel reported January 10 that $40 million could fund Kapustin Yar's annual budget -- estimated at about $97,000 -- for roughly 400 years.

"It would be a different country," Shein said, when asked how life might change if resources were invested locally instead of in war.

Kovalenko called the situation emblematic of Moscow's priorities, arguing that Russia consistently neglects public services and living standards at home.

Fallout beyond Russia

For residents of western Kazakhstan, Kapustin Yar is neither a workplace nor a symbol of neglect, but an inescapable presence overhead. Missiles regularly pass through the region on their flight paths, and the consequences are measured in environmental damage and health problems.

"There are a few villages that border the test site. They aren't close, but 5, 10, 15 or 20 kilometers away is a laughable distance when you're talking about this sort of proximity," Pyotr Trotsenko, a Kazakh journalist, told Kontur.

Missile debris continues to fall on Kazakh territory, including grazing land and populated areas.

"A huge number of people, in the past and now, have problems and mental peculiarities. People also have different types of diseases, there's lots of cancer," Trotsenko said, adding that the state does not officially acknowledge a link to the test site.

No publicly available studies directly document the health impact of Russia's testing, leaving residents without compensation or support. As a result, many accept their situation "as part of something unavoidable," Trotsenko noted.

The land itself has agricultural potential, but the site's continued operation overshadows any development.

"Much to our great regret, the test site is still operating, and it is working for Russia's war machine," he said.