By Lukas Milevski

(FPRI) — One may occasionally hear statements about military defense that sound absurd, like a recent claim that “Lithuania is running out of space for its military.” How and why does this statement make sense, and what does it mean for the Baltic states and NATO deployments to those countries in light of the possible Russian military threat against the Baltic states and Europe as a whole?

When militaries are not fighting, they are often training. This requires substantial geographical space — a single brigade-level training area may need more than 20,000 hectares (over 49,000 acres) of contiguous land. Moreover, it is often best for such training areas, whether individually or collectively (depending on the size of the training ground and intended military echelon), to include as many as possible of the key or representative terrain types in which that country’s military may be fighting: fields, forests, swamps, urban terrain, and so on. The need for sufficient training grounds of various characters competes with numerous other domestic requirements for that same land.

Key considerations in the establishment of new training grounds include the ownership of the land (Is it state or privately owned? The latter is more difficult and more expensive to procure.) and nearby communities, whose normal routines (such as mushroom foraging in forests) may be negatively affected by the presence of training grounds and the activities which occur on them (maneuvering armored vehicles, firing guns and artillery, and so on). In a geographically large country such as the United States, such requirements are not necessarily an issue. But in densely populated countries, such as those of Western Europe, this need poses a much greater challenge.

Such requirements may constitute substantial challenges to geographically small countries such as the Baltic states, and not merely for their national militaries, but also for those of their allies. This is particularly the case if the Baltic states want to implement universal conscription or want their allies to deploy forces more or less permanently to Baltic territory. Both cases represent an influx of soldiers requiring training and, therefore, local training grounds.

Examining training grounds across the Baltic states is directly relevant not only to the Baltic states’ military capabilities — particularly as each of the three countries is fielding or planning on fielding a division — but also to those plausible allied forces that can be deployed. This does not require a 1:1 correlation of training grounds to forces, but it can, nonetheless, limit the forces that it is even possible to develop or deploy. The problem is essentially one of scheduling. Even if an entire brigade is not currently using a brigade-sized training ground, particular areas within the training ground are likely being used by subordinate elements daily.

Lithuania, the country cited as “running out of space,” currently has an assortment of various-sized training grounds. First is Rūdninkai training area, Lithuania’s only brigade-scale training ground of up to 25,000 hectares (nearly 62,000 acres). It is the German 45th Panzer Brigade’s permanent garrison as of 2025, but it also remains a work in progress, and will likely be usable for training only from late 2025 or early 2026. The Pabradė and Gaižiūnai training areas are over 17,000 and approximately 12,500 hectares, respectively (43,000 and approaching 31,000 acres), and can accommodate formations below full brigade level. In mid-2024, Lithuania began developing two more training areas at Tauragė and Šilalė — the former over 4,000 hectares and the latter over 2,500 (over 10,000 and 6,600 acres, respectively), which suffice for company-level training. Notably, these will not be designated military territories, which means no shooting or maneuvering of heavy military equipment. They are likely to be suitable primarily for training in light infantry tactics and maneuvers. There are yet more plans to develop another two training grounds, at least one of which is intended to be suitable for brigade-scale training, although this requirement is proving to be a challenge.

Latvia, too, has a variety of training grounds. These include the 40-hectare (99 acre) Mežaine training ground near the town of Skrunda, based in this old Soviet military town and dedicated to urban warfare training; the Šķēde naval training ground north of the port city of Liepāja where Latvia has begun testing naval drones; the special forces base, near Daugavgrīva, the influx of Latvia’s major river into the Baltic Sea; and the approximately 2,500 hectare (just shy of 6,200 acres) Lāčusils training ground near Alūksne. Latvia’s main training ground has traditionally been that at Ādaži, but at just over 13,000 hectares (over 32,000 acres) in size, it is insufficient for a full brigade. As a result, in 2022 Latvia began developing a new training ground near Aizkraukle and Jēkabpils, originally called Zalve but now known as Sēlija (Selonia in English). With development reportedly on schedule, it will be the largest training ground in the Baltic states, edging out Lithuania’s Rūdninkai at 25,596 hectares (63,250 acres). Once the second phase of development is complete, it will be able to host brigade-scale exercises. Latvia is in discussions with Estonia and Lithuania to allow them access to this training ground as well, which highlights the scheduling aspect of a training ground’s capacity to host military exercises.

Of the three Baltic states, Estonia provides the clearest overview of its various training grounds, not counting various separate and smaller shooting ranges and training areas used by both the defense forces and the paramilitary Estonian Defence League. Estonia’s main military training area is the Central Training Area north of Tapa, with smaller separate training areas at Soodla, Sirgala, Nursipalu, Kikepera, Klooga, and Männiku. Yet the combined area of all of these training areas amounted to only 32,000 hectares (just over 79,000 acres) in 2020. Estonia does not have a single training ground capable of hosting a full brigade exercise, with even the Central Training Area amounting to just under 12,000 hectares (over 29,500 acres). Interestingly, during the Soviet occupation, the Central Training Area was substantially larger at 33,100 hectares (approaching 82,000 acres). Demonstrating Estonian transparency, the schedule for the Central Training Area is published online: usually at least five small unit exercises per day, including shooting practice, tactical exercises, and exercises with explosives.

It is self-evidently sensible in today’s security environment to increase the scale of Western forces based in the Baltic states, further developing a credible force posture which would deter Russia from invading. However, this ambition requires major infrastructure, not just the barracks to host the soldiers and garages to shelter machinery, but also the training grounds to enable forces to become and remain militarily ready and effective. The Baltic states are, or perhaps should be, in a race to develop such infrastructure. Yet this race is complex. It is a race against the eventual reconstitution of the Russian army post-invasion of Ukraine, whenever that might properly start and whenever the Russians may judge their army again ready for new invasions. Yet the Baltic states should not necessarily develop their infrastructure too quickly. They also need a certain level of confidence that the time and money invested into developing such training infrastructure is likely to be paid back in terms of allied presence — a complication reflected in Lithuania, which is developing the Rūdninkai training area literally around a growing German presence already on the ground.

The main exceptions to such complications are when a Baltic state itself needs to address gaps in its training capacity, such as Latvia with the Sēlija training ground for its need for a brigade-level training area, which can then also be rented out to Baltic neighbors or made the home of a new allied brigade deployed to the Baltic. With NATO regional war plans requiring virtually every single NATO member to expand its military to meet newly set capability targets, being able to offer a new training ground that is not yet overscheduled may well be an excellent incentive to draw some of the allied forces currently being generated to the Baltic and NATO’s eastern flank.

About the author: Lukas Milevski is an Assistant Professor at Leiden University and a Non-Resident Fellow in the Eurasia Program at the Foreign Policy Research Institute.

Source: This article was published by FPRI