Barracuda USV: Combining Human Expertise with Artificial Intelligence

A “kamikaze predator,” remotely controlled at distances of up to 20,000 km, carries a payload of up to 300 kg of explosives.

The barracuda—also known as sphyrna or sea pike—is a genus of large predatory fish renowned for its speed, aggression, and exceptional eyesight. It can even prey on pufferfish, whose toxins are potent enough to kill up to 30 people. These same principles—speed, precision, and lethality—underpin the design of Ukrainian-made unmanned surface vessels (USVs).

Developed and deployed independently by fighters of the “Barracuda” special unit, part of the 40th Separate Marine Brigade of the 30th Marine Corps, these systems represent a fusion of ingenuity and battlefield necessity.

The vessel’s modular architecture allows it to carry a range of payloads—from heavy explosive charges to grenade-launching systems. It is a weapon engineered to penetrate where it is least expected—and from which it does not return.

Ukrinform correspondents observed field tests of the Barracuda USV in southern Ukraine.

LIKE THE BLAST OF FIVE ‘SHAHEDs

By the time we arrived at the test site early in the morning, preparations were already underway. The unit moved with precision and cohesion, their actions well-rehearsed—yet the atmosphere remained relaxed, even punctuated by jokes.

A tall young man approached us. He introduced himself as “Cop,” the commander of the Barracuda unit. Before the war, he held a senior position in the police. On the first day of Russia’s full-scale invasion, he volunteered for the Armed Forces of Ukraine.

“Cop”

“We use these boats as kamikaze systems. Fortunately, we’ve reached the point where such missions are carried out by machines rather than humans. The boats do not return—these are operations deep in enemy rear areas. Each mission uses new equipment,” says “Cop.”

According to the unit commander, one of Barracuda’s key advantages is its control range—up to 20,000 kilometers—allowing the operator to be located far from the combat zone. The vessel carries a substantial explosive payload and can also deploy a range of systems, including FPV drones. It is equipped with artificial intelligence, as well as advanced tracking and remote-control technologies that reduce the risk of error and ensure stable operation in all weather conditions. The boat can reach speeds of up to 100 km/h and is fitted with onboard cameras.

“Everything is done remotely—firing, detonation, launch. It strikes and destroys the enemy,” “Cop” adds with a smile.

Asked to recall the most striking example of its use, he shrugs:

“Every mission is striking. We’ve repeatedly hit enemy personnel and equipment. With up to 300 kilograms of explosives onboard, it always is. It’s like the blast of five ‘Shahed,’ drones” he says.

“WHEN I STEPPED ASHORE, I WANTED TO KISS THE GROUND”

Operating the vessel requires a full team. It includes a navigator with deep knowledge of waterways and the ability to maneuver around enemy electronic warfare systems, a second pilot, specialists responsible for arming the boat with explosives, and a fire-support unit.

“Piloting this platform means accounting for a wide range of variables—it’s a complex, high-responsibility task. This is a heavily loaded system that must reach its target precisely. Pilot training is extensive. Eventually, I hope this will be taught on simulators. For now, we train in the field, as we did today,” says “Cop.”

He notes that, so far, they have not encountered comparable systems in Russian service.

The unit itself, he emphasizes, is tightly knit. There are no outsiders here—everyone is one of us..

“We’re a closed unit. We’re all friends. In civilian life—businessmen, police officers…” he says.

Smiling, he recalls the unit’s early days.

“A year and a half ago, when we were just starting out and no one believed in us, one of our first boats headed toward enemy positions—and we lost contact. It stalled not far from them. Building a replacement would have taken about two months, and we couldn’t afford to lose a boat loaded with explosives. So a comrade and I went after it on a jet ski.

We set out in the evening, reached the Barracuda, and tied it off to tow it back. Then our jet ski stalled as well. We spent almost the entire night in the water. The current began carrying us toward the enemy shore—and at that point, I had already said goodbye to my life.

I had never seen water that black, and I had never felt so helpless. We kept watching the sky, hoping no drone would appear. Quite an experience…

But somehow, my friend managed to restart the jet ski, and we made it back alive. When I stepped ashore, I wanted to kiss the ground,” “Cop” recalls.

We ask what sustains him.

“It’s the fifth year of the war. You simply have to accept that it exists and live within that reality. I don’t think about what comes after. For now, we fight,” says “Cop.”

TEN HOURS AT THE CONTROLS

At that moment, a smiling fighter with visibly tired eyes approaches the commander, asks for a cigarette, and introduces himself as Max. The others nearby grin—“Mad Max,” they add, invoking the post-apocalyptic film character. We ask what exactly makes him “mad.”

Max

“Sometimes it shows,” he says lightly. “I’m not afraid of anything during combat operations.”

Max is a Barracuda USV pilot.

“The vessel can be located many kilometers from the control point. In practice, its range is limited only by fuel. For each mission, we calculate exactly how much is needed,” he explains.

His longest continuous operation lasted ten hours.

“In high-intensity moments, when you finally reach the target and complete the mission, your blood pressure spikes. The adrenaline is overwhelming. But once the objective is achieved, every mission feels significant. There’s a real sense of satisfaction in getting the job done,” he says.

He recalls his first deployment:

“We worried about everything. We assembled the first boat ourselves—improvised, piece by piece. A hull from one place, an engine brought in by volunteers… We were afraid of losing the signal. Now it’s different—everything is streamlined, the skills are honed,” he says.

Max has served in the Armed Forces of Ukraine for a year and a half. He says the support of his family matters most—and that his young daughter is his strongest source of motivation.

“They don’t know much. Sometimes I’m on a mission and can’t respond, and my wife worries. When I call back, I reassure them. My daughter is three and a half—we rarely see each other. They miss me a lot. The way she says ‘Daddy’—that means everything. I have something to fight for, something to build toward. I have big plans for the future,” he says.

We also spoke with Kostiantyn, a member of the fire-support (cover) group.

“During launch, we cover the sky with shotguns. If an enemy drone hits the USV, they’ll be identifying us by DNA. Our job is to get the boat into the water as quickly as possible,” he says.

We ask whether it’s frightening to cover an asset loaded with 300 kilograms of explosives.

“I’ve been fighting since 2022—infantry, special forces. I’ve seen a lot in this war: Izium, Bakhmut. Fear is always there, as is the desire to see tomorrow. But as for how it will turn out—there’s no anxiety,” he says.

THE CEMETERY DIRECTOR WHO NEVER LOSES HIS SENSE OF HUMOR

Before the war, Kostiantyn worked as a cemetery director and coached children and adults in freestyle wrestling. When the full-scale invasion began, he joined the military without hesitation.

“It was my decision. My life before the war was like Beirut—so I entered the war easily, without fear,” he says.

The most harrowing experience he recalls is the battle for Soledar.

“In Soledar, Wagner fighters tried to encircle us. Being captured was more frightening than dying. I decided I would either get out—or go into eternity. I got out without a scratch,” he says.

Optimism, he adds, is a conscious choice. Throughout the conversation, he jokes and laughs, insisting that resilience is what carries him through.

“I’m happiest when we complete a mission. My parents were under occupation—I didn’t know if they were alive. I was on the contact line, where they tried to kill me every day. And I’m glad to send Kobzon more of his Russian admirers,” Kostiantyn says.

THE MAKESHIFT BOAT THAT DISRUPTED A RUSSIAN OFFENSIVE

A fighter with the callsign “Captain” joins the conversation, recalling one of the unit’s earliest successes.

“It was about a year and a half ago. Back then, all we had was essentially a wooden tub with a small motor—but with it, we disrupted a Russian advance in the Dnipro delta. We detonated explosives at a concentration point of their personnel and equipment. For a week afterward, we intercepted their communications—they were complaining they wouldn’t go out on the water anymore, afraid of encountering something like that. That’s when we realized we were on the right track,” he says.

Before the war, “Captain” ran his own business. When the invasion began, he joined the Armed Forces of Ukraine.

“In the house where my children lived, there were holes from cluster munitions in the first days. I had no doubts about my choice. We didn’t go to them—this war came to us. I was sleeping at home, I didn’t invite anyone, and I didn’t want this war. The choice was obvious,” he says.

His motivation, he adds, is simple and absolute:

“My home is here. The graves of my ancestors are here. I will never give them up.”

***

In this war, victory depends not only on force, but on ingenuity. “Barracuda” is a story about people who turned an idea into a weapon that is reshaping the battlefield. And as long as they keep working, the enemy cannot feel safe—even in places that once seemed beyond reach.

Hanna Bodrova, Odesa

Photos: Nina Liashonok