Ukraine

When the guns pause and the ash settles, the men who learned to live at the zero line will drift outward like sparks on the wind, carrying paid skills, unpaid debts, and a quiet promise that the war is not finished with us yet.

As the steppe turns to mud and the skies to low cloud, Russia trades men for meters while Ukraine adapts, holds its hubs, and waits for the freeze.

Trump’s sudden pledge that Ukraine can reclaim all occupied land is less a policy than a gamble—one that only matters if he backs it with steel, not slogans.

US greenlights $850M ERAM missile sale to Ukraine, boosting long-range strikes while keeping pilots out of Russia’s dense air defenses.

A Ukrainian Yak-52—once a humble trainer—now screams low over Kherson with a rear-seat gunner and a shotgun, turning the sky into a drone-killing skeet range.

From the moment Erieye lit the Super Flanker at 150 miles, our silent Viper stalked in, loosed a single AIM-120C, and wrote a new line in this war’s air combat ledger.

Azov now recruits foreigners, offering one of Ukraine’s toughest but most professional paths in a brutal, high-risk war.

Ukraine’s SBU has exposed 207 Russian operatives since the invasion, including 52 active servicemen within its own forces.

At Alaska’s icy table, two nuclear heavyweights have a clean shot to freeze the slide—keep New START’s caps alive, put numbers on tac nukes, and fence Europe off from new land-based missiles.

Friday’s Trump-Putin summit in Alaska isn’t a breakthrough—it’s Moscow running the same stalling play it’s used since 2014, buying time while pressing its summer offensive.

In Ukraine’s war, Elon Musk’s satellites shifted from lifeline to leverage, and that power—once a gift—became a weapon of his choosing.

We thought drone warfare would be the future—turns out, it was the present all along, and we just didn’t recognize the buzz of change until it hovered over the tree line, camera rolling.