Report: Russia builds massive missile cache igniting NATO alert status

A chilling assessment from a leading European defense analyst has raised alarms about Russia’s military intentions, suggesting the Kremlin may be preparing for a broader conflict beyond the ongoing war in Ukraine.

Fabian Hoffmann, a Doctoral Research Fellow at the Oslo Nuclear Project at the University of Oslo, recently published an analysis on his Substack, “Missile Matters,” estimating that Russia produces approximately 1,200 cruise missiles, 400 ballistic missiles, 6,000 long-range Shahed drones, and plans to manufacture 10,000 decoy drones annually.

These figures, attributed to Ukrainian intelligence, point to a significant ramp-up in Russia’s missile production. Yet, Hoffmann argues, Russia is not deploying its full arsenal in Ukraine, instead stockpiling these weapons for potential contingencies, including a possible confrontation with NATO in Europe. This revelation, shared in early 2025, underscores a strategic ambiguity that could reshape the security landscape for the United States and its allies.

The scale of Russia’s missile production, as outlined by Hoffmann, is staggering. According to his analysis, Russia’s defense industry is churning out weapons at a pace that exceeds its current battlefield needs in Ukraine. The 1,200 cruise missiles include systems like the Kh-101, a subsonic air-launched missile with a range of about 1,700 miles, capable of carrying conventional or nuclear warheads.

These missiles, often deployed from strategic bombers like the Tu-95 Bear, have been used to strike Ukrainian infrastructure since the war began in 2022. The 400 ballistic missiles likely encompass short- and medium-range systems such as the Iskander-M, a road-mobile missile with a range of up to 310 miles, designed to deliver precision strikes against fortified targets.

The Iskander’s dual-capability warheads—conventional or nuclear—make it a versatile and threatening asset. Meanwhile, the 6,000 Shahed drones, primarily the Shahed-136, are low-cost, long-range kamikaze drones with a range of over 1,200 miles, used to overwhelm air defenses and target civilian infrastructure.

The addition of 10,000 decoy drones, which mimic the radar signatures of real threats to confuse air defense systems, signals Russia’s intent to saturate and exhaust advanced Western-supplied defenses like the Patriot or IRIS-T.

Russia’s ability to sustain this production is remarkable given the economic sanctions imposed by the United States and its allies since 2022. Hoffmann notes that Russia’s defense industry is operating at maximum capacity, straining resources, labor, and finances.

To expand further, the Kremlin would need to divert significant investments from other sectors, a move that could destabilize its domestic economy. Yet, the fact that Russia is not expending these weapons at full tilt in Ukraine raises questions about its broader strategy.

Hoffmann’s analysis suggests that a substantial portion of these newly produced systems is being stockpiled, a decision that deviates from expectations that Russia would intensify attacks on Ukraine’s energy grid during the winter of 2024-2025. Instead, the Kremlin appears to be preserving its arsenal, possibly as a hedge against future conflicts or as a deterrent against Western intervention.

The implications of this stockpiling extend far beyond Ukraine’s borders. For the United States, Russia’s growing missile reserves pose a direct challenge to NATO’s security architecture in Europe.

The possibility that these weapons are being held in reserve for a potential clash with the alliance is a sobering prospect. Such a scenario could involve Russian missile strikes on critical European infrastructure—ports, energy facilities, or military bases—to disrupt NATO’s ability to respond to aggression.

The Kremlin’s signaling is clear: it seeks to project power and influence, not just in its immediate neighborhood but across the continent. This posture aligns with Russia’s historical approach to deterrence, where the threat of overwhelming force is used to intimidate adversaries and shape their decision-making.

To understand the significance of Russia’s missile production, it’s worth examining the Shahed-136 drone, which has become a cornerstone of its strategy. Developed with Iranian technology, the Shahed-136 is a delta-winged, propeller-driven drone measuring about 11 feet long with a wingspan of 8 feet.

Powered by a small gasoline engine, it cruises at speeds of around 110 miles per hour, carrying a 110-pound warhead. Its low cost—estimated at $20,000 to $50,000 per unit—makes it an economical choice for mass production.

Since Russia began deploying these drones in Ukraine, they have been used in swarms to overwhelm air defenses, often launched in waves alongside cruise and ballistic missiles. The Shahed’s simplicity allows Russia to produce thousands annually, and its psychological impact is profound, as its loud engine noise terrorizes civilian populations.

Compared to Western systems like the U.S.-made MQ-9 Reaper, which costs upwards of $30 million and is designed for surveillance and precision strikes, the Shahed-136 prioritizes quantity over sophistication, embodying Russia’s strategy of attrition.

The decoy drones, while less documented, are equally concerning. These systems are designed to mimic the radar and infrared signatures of real drones or missiles, forcing air defenses to expend valuable interceptors on false targets.

By flooding radar screens with decoys, Russia could degrade the effectiveness of systems like the Patriot, which relies on finite missile stocks to counter threats. For context, a single Patriot interceptor costs around $4 million, while a Shahed drone is a fraction of that price.

This cost asymmetry gives Russia an edge, as it can afford to lose dozens of drones for every successful strike, while Western defenses struggle to replenish their arsenals. The introduction of decoys could amplify this advantage, potentially rendering NATO’s air defenses less effective in a prolonged conflict.

Russia’s missile buildup is not occurring in a vacuum. The United States and its NATO allies have been bolstering their own capabilities in response to growing threats. The U.S. has deployed additional missile defense systems, such as the Aegis Ashore in Poland and Romania, designed to counter ballistic missile threats.

These systems, equipped with SM-3 interceptors, can neutralize missiles in their midcourse phase, offering a layered defense against Russian systems like the Iskander. Meanwhile, NATO has accelerated the development of long-range precision strike weapons, such as the U.S. Army’s Precision Strike Missile [PrSM], which has a range of over 300 miles and can target Russian command posts and airfields.

European allies, including Poland and Germany, are also investing in advanced air defenses, with Poland expanding its Patriot batteries and Germany leading the European Sky Shield Initiative to integrate missile defense systems across the continent.

Historically, Russia’s reliance on missiles and drones reflects a continuity in its military doctrine. During the Cold War, the Soviet Union prioritized missile technology to counter NATO’s conventional superiority, developing systems like the SS-20 Saber, an intermediate-range ballistic missile that prompted the U.S. to deploy Pershing II missiles in Europe

The current conflict in Ukraine has revived this missile-centric approach, with Russia adapting lessons from the battlefield to refine its arsenal. The Shahed drones, for instance, have evolved since their initial deployment, with improved navigation systems and larger warheads, demonstrating Russia’s ability to innovate under pressure.

This adaptability contrasts with challenges in other areas, such as its intercontinental ballistic missile program, where the RS-28 Sarmat has faced repeated delays and test failures, as reported by Business Insider in January 2025.

The global context adds another layer of complexity. Russia’s partnerships with countries like Iran and North Korea have bolstered its production capacity. Iran, in particular, has supplied drone technology and possibly components for the Shahed series, while North Korea has reportedly provided ballistic missiles, according to Western intelligence reports.

These alliances allow Russia to circumvent sanctions and maintain its defense industrial base, though they also expose vulnerabilities. Dependence on foreign suppliers could become a liability if political dynamics shift or if the U.S. and its allies intensify efforts to disrupt these supply chains. For American policymakers, this underscores the need for a multifaceted strategy that combines sanctions, diplomacy, and military preparedness to counter Russia’s ambitions.

The strategic ambiguity of Russia’s stockpiling invites speculation about its intentions. One possibility is that the Kremlin is preparing for a prolonged war of attrition in Ukraine, conserving resources to outlast Western support. Another is that Russia anticipates a broader conflict, perhaps triggered by a crisis in the Baltic states or the Arctic, where NATO’s presence has grown.

A third scenario involves domestic considerations, with the Kremlin using its arsenal to project strength and deter internal dissent amid economic pressures. Each scenario carries risks for the United States, which must balance its commitments to Ukraine with the need to strengthen NATO’s eastern flank.

The Biden administration has already pledged $61 billion in aid to Ukraine since 2022, but sustaining this support while addressing domestic priorities remains a challenge.

Critics of Hoffmann’s analysis argue that Russia’s stockpiling may not be as threatening as it seems. Some experts suggest the Kremlin could be exaggerating its capabilities to intimidate the West, a tactic it has used before.

Others point to logistical constraints, noting that Russia’s defense industry struggles with quality control and maintenance, as evidenced by the Sarmat’s troubled development. Ukrainian intelligence, which provided the production estimates, may also have an interest in amplifying the threat to secure more Western aid.

These perspectives highlight the difficulty of assessing Russia’s true capabilities, especially given the opacity of its military operations. Open-source intelligence, including satellite imagery and intercepted communications, offers some insights, but gaps remain.

The broader implications of Russia’s missile buildup are profound. The proliferation of low-cost drones and decoys is reshaping modern warfare, challenging the dominance of expensive Western systems.

For NATO, adapting to this reality requires innovation in air defense technologies, such as laser-based interceptors or cheaper missile alternatives. The U.S. Department of Defense has already begun exploring these options, with programs like the Directed Energy Maneuver Short-Range Air Defense system showing promise.

Equally important is the need for intelligence sharing and coordination among allies to track Russia’s production and deployment patterns. Failure to adapt could leave NATO vulnerable to the kind of saturation attacks Russia is preparing for.

From a U.S. perspective, the stakes could not be higher. Russia’s missile reserves, if used effectively, could disrupt the transatlantic alliance’s cohesion, forcing difficult choices about resource allocation and military posture. The question is not just whether Russia intends to use these weapons but whether the West is prepared to counter them.

Hoffmann’s analysis serves as a wake-up call, urging policymakers to rethink deterrence in an era of hybrid threats and asymmetric warfare. As the United States navigates this uncertain landscape, it must ask itself: are we ready for a world where missiles and drones redefine the battlefield, and if not, what will it take to get there?