Along the forests and marshlands that separate the Baltic states from Russia and Belarus, workers are digging anti-tank ditches, pouring concrete bunkers and erecting rows of dragon's teeth - jagged concrete obstacles designed to slow and channel advancing armour - to buy precious time in the event of an attack.
Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022 reignited old fears in Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, where memories of Soviet rule remain close to the surface.
In the years since, those fears have been channelled into preparation. Defence budgets have surged, military exercises have intensified, and new fortifications have emerged even as daily life largely continues as normal.
However, in recent months, the physical sense of distance from the war has begun to erode after a series of suspected Ukrainian drones veered off course and entered the airspace of the Baltic states.
Ukraine says the drones were diverted by Russian electronic jamming, and Moscow denies responsibility. Yet the incidents have fuelled uncertainty across the region.
In mid-May, two drone incidents within 48 hours of each other rattled the region. A Romanian NATO fighter jet was scrambled in response to one incursion, while Lithuania issued a public alert urging residents and its parliament to seek shelter during another.
Amid these tensions, Russia claimed to have information that Ukraine planned to launch military drones from Latvia.
Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Peskov said Russia’s military was preparing an “appropriate” response.
Latvia dismissed the claims as false. The ruling coalition eventually collapsed after an argument over the government's handling of stray drones.
But beyond the rhetoric and political turmoil, more fundamental questions remain. Do people in the Baltics feel they are edging closer to direct military confrontation? And how real is that possibility?
