The time is about 11:30 p.m., and I have another half hour left to reach the hotel before the nighttime curfew, which will last until 5:00 a.m., goes into effect. Police deploy at street corners in preparation, and bars close one after another. I'm running late to return, and the entrance security guard clarifies this to me with a string of "blessings" whose meaning is clear even for a broken Russian speaker like myself.

Is the war that started three and a half years ago felt in Kyiv? For the foreign eye, certainly. Just on the last day of July, 31 people were killed in the capital from a Russian attack on it, 28 of them when a missile struck a residential building. In a central square facing the golden-domed monastery of Saint Michael the Archangel, burned Russian armored vehicles are positioned – this is a changing exhibition, according to supplies arriving from the front. Exhausted reservists wait at bus stations.

On the monastery's long wall appear photographs of those fallen in the campaign. Some of the men in their official uniforms, others documented in less official episodes – those photographed by soldiers after a night of activity, when signing for receipt of new weapons and hurrying to document in the armory courtyard. Children of the 1970s, alongside youth born in the 2000s. Memory muscles from Tel Aviv help understand Kyiv.

War is one of the fundamental phenomena of human life. Contrary to what is proper, perhaps. It is so "natural" that it sometimes appears like a natural disaster – an earthquake, flood, or fire. Every long war is different, yet human in its manner. Heavy heat descended on Kyiv during my visit; here, too, memory muscles from Tel Aviv were helpful.

A long war resembles a scorching sun, and the people marching beneath it cast their shadows in the streets of Kyiv and Tel Aviv. And it is different, like the responses to challenges it presents. "Oleg," Olena, Roma, and "Cyclops" have been marching under its shadow for years. They are part of the story of this city, the nation, and the great war in Europe since World War II.

Buzzing creatures in the skies

"I didn't know anything about drones. My first drone was a Russian drone," Cyclops recounts when I meet him at a cafe a short distance from the city center. "A Russian column was destroyed from the air, and then we were in a period of partisan fighting. We needed weapons, and we reached the place. That's how I found the first drone, a simple 'Mavic' [a popular commercial drone manufactured in China]."

Cyclops wasn't near Kyiv when the war erupted. He originally hails from Odesa, the major port city on the Black Sea shore. "The day before the invasion, we already understood something was happening. My girlfriend and I decided to move to Mykolaiv; we thought it would be safe there," Cyclops reconstructs the fateful days of February 2022. "There was chaos. The army wasn't in the region. A truck arrived and distributed rifles, without registration, without anything." He describes two months of "Wild West" and complete chaos, as he and his friends attempt to "knock down" Russian reconnaissance forces.

After more than two years on the front, he now instructs in advanced drone operation courses. The nickname? "My commander called me that because of the drone camera that resembles a Cyclops eye." A name – like here – there's nothing stronger than a nickname your commander gave you.

In the front of warfare, battle has become drone warfare. At least 70% of casualties in combat are attributed to their operation. Fighting trenches, storm attacks, and armored vehicles adorned with iron plates remind one of World War I battles, while buzzing "creatures" make reputations in the fighting armies.

In the latest development, drones operated through dedicated goggles providing a first-person flight experience (FPV) have been joined to optical fibers. This simple development, reminiscent of older technology, enables a drone that unfolds the wire behind it according to its flight to overcome radio interference and range limitations. Kilometers upon kilometers of thin and glinting wires cover the killing fields of eastern, southern, and northeastern Ukraine. This development is making reputations in front positions, but it is particularly lethal for supply routes. The war is becoming more difficult.

The way war is photographed has also changed. Suicide drones, those that explode upon impact, now provide documentation of the final moments of soldiers – Russians and Ukrainians alike. They are seen there fleeing in terror, accepting their fate in submission, pleading for their lives before the camera.

Within the war, Cyclops has already transformed into part of an official drone unit. "A drone company is constructed from about 30 people," he explains. "It contains several teams of each capability type – 'regular' drones, FPV, and large supply drones. Usually, we position ourselves in a house, at a distance of several kilometers from the front."

Cyclops describes a typical shift: "At night, you conduct about 15-20 attacks. It's different compared to when you kill a person with a rifle. It's much closer and you can see these people. In drones, it's like video; in a thermal camera, you don't see faces."

Drone operators have become one of the most important targets for attack, and both sides do everything to find their positions. "I know one guy who sat three months alone, and food and water reached him only by drones," he demonstrates how much forces in the field seek to avoid exposure and how much they're willing to pay to achieve it.

Ukraine's situation on the front is not simple, to put it mildly. Kyiv conducts an exhausting war of attrition against the Russian war machine, powered by Russia's energy economy, fed by hundreds of thousands of men from prisons, from Russia's social and geographic periphery, and from North Korea – sent as cannon fodder to storm Ukrainian trenches.

The British Ministry of Defense estimated the number of Russian casualties (killed, wounded, and captured) at more than one million, and assessments by research institutes and intelligence bodies specify a figure of up to about 250,000 dead. Russia's sure and frighteningly slow advance, while bleeding heavily, creates pessimism in Ukraine and among its allies.

Cyclops believes victory is possible, and argues it depends on establishing a "wall of drones," as he defines it. "We must try to stop at a certain line. Just stand in place, prevent Ukrainian casualties, and conduct drone warfare." The logic is based on the assumption that attrition will finally defeat Putin's regime and his army. What will he do after the war? He's already thinking less about a military career; fatigue is showing its signs. "Like after a mission at the front – shower, good sleep for a few weeks or months – and life," he says.

Protests against corruption

During my visit to the city, the first major political protest during the war broke out. This happened following lightning legislation – approved within a few hours – that President Volodymyr Zelenskyy led against independent anti-corruption bodies established at the West's demand. Zelenskyy claimed he was fighting Russian influence and espionage that had spread in these bodies, but the move was seen as a blatant and undemocratic takeover attempt.

The Ukrainian people, who had already toppled a series of leaders through the streets, again took to the streets. They didn't need a grace period to remove the "civic" rust that might have appeared as a result of the war. While the law was passed, hundreds of young people appeared in a small square in the city holding simple cardboard signs. Among the protesters was also a young man with an amputated leg.

The protest atmosphere is felt the moment I enter the metro. While waiting on the platform, I ask a young man how to get to a certain station, and he immediately wonders if I'm on my way to the demonstration. "I want to see it," he says and admits he hasn't yet decided whether he's for or against the protest – "The situation is complicated." Oleg, a young man in his 20s dressed in modern clothing, and his girlfriend Maria accompany me to the protest center.

As we approach, the demonstration atmosphere floods the streets. Roars of "veto na zakon" (veto the law) mix with calls of "hanba-hanba-hanba" (which might be more familiar to the Israeli ear as "shame-shame-shame"). The enormous resources the war demands, in no small part also from Western countries, are fertile ground for corruption of every kind. The protesters make an explicit connection when they shout, "corruption kills."

"I think we were wrong to think a year ago that we could win this completely. We thought we had cards," Oleg tells me up the street, a reference to that meeting between Zelenskyy and Trump when the American president threw at Zelenskyy that he "has no cards" to continue the war. Another protester hints that Zelenskyy's move was intended to "derail the talks with Russia" that were taking place that same day.

At a certain point, singing of the Ukrainian anthem begins and intensifies. The strongest that evening. Some protesters will stay here throughout the night to thumb their noses at the curfew. Two days later, Zelenskyy will approve legislation that will restore independence to the anti-corruption bodies. There's no place that better marks Ukraine's independence, first of all from Russia and its customs, than its squares. And these young people and their predecessors.

"I remember life before"

Kyiv lives. I try to pinpoint exactly how the war is both absent and present in its life. Parties are held here even at night, in its basements, and celebrants emerge from them in the morning, heralding the end of the curfew. Businesses and cafes – all open. You're asked in them if you want to donate to some unit at the front. Here, I sit, and across from me passes the funeral of a senior commander. His unit's men march in dress uniforms behind the hearse carrying his coffin. I stand with passersby, some kneeling. The convoy passes, and the city continues on.

The marchers turn down the street toward Maidan Square – the central square where the banner of rebellion against the Russians was raised in 2014, which led to the uprising of Moscow-backed separatists in the east and the swift conquest of the Crimean Peninsula. The "Revolution of Dignity" then demanded to continue on the path of integration with the European Union. The blue flag with stars, which in parts of European populism is seen as abhorrent, is still a sign of freedom.

Since the war began, Maidan has become a kind of cemetery. It's dedicated to a forest of Ukrainian flags, its military units, and flags of the countries of volunteers who fell here. Under the flags – photographs of the fallen. Perhaps that's why the protesters didn't return to this square, which now serves a different role. Perhaps they signaled that they don't deny the legitimacy of the government conducting a war for the nation's life.

I met Olena Maksimenko at one of the city's cafes. The war – and forgetting it – interweave in the capital's streets. She herself experienced two such waves, of war and forgetting. Once, when she was kidnapped and tortured by the Russians during the annexation of Crimea in 2014 and the Donbas war that followed, and a second time now, after the full Russian invasion in 2022.

"I remember life before – those were quite different lives," she sighs. After her release from Russian captivity in 2014, Olena volunteered in a small volunteer unit dealing with treating the wounded. "The government didn't give money, we lived on private donations," she explains the necessity that turned her into a war correspondent. "And to get donations, you need to tell stories."

Until 2022, routine made the Ukrainian public forget about the war being conducted in the east before the war. All the more so from the world's attention, which was then still far from full adoption of Kyiv's struggle. "There was indifference," she describes, "it's hard to write for no one." She sought her way and interviewed for a magazine ("something between advertising and media"), but then the Russian invasion began. "I understood I must stay until victory."

Olena is part of what can be described as the "Ukrainian war community" – even within a nation fighting for its life, there are those who bear the burden more than others. Those captivated by it, by its purpose, and perhaps – and it's hard to say this – by the charm of meaning, of evil, of gazing into the consuming fire.

"In my circle, everyone is very active and involved," Olena says, "but these are mainly volunteers, war correspondents, or family members waiting for news from someone on the front line." The stories from the front she collected in her book "Priama Mova" – a concept that can refer both to bringing things in first person, and to open and sometimes blunt speech.

But the long war creates problems that this small community cannot solve. It's hard to estimate the number of Ukrainian casualties, when the UAlosses project counts about 80,000 verified dead. The need for fighters places a heavy burden on Ukrainian society, and this is perhaps the most burning issue here.

Ukrainian conscription policy refuses to forcibly draft those under age 25, out of concern for losing the generation destined to be the one that will rebuild the country, and out of deep demographic worry. Up to age 60, everyone is obligated to serve, and they're also banned from leaving the country. Exemptions are given to fathers of more than three children, to students, and to those with needed professions.

Three and a half years later, the stream of voluntary enlistees is dwindling. "Blue" and "green" police are deployed in Kyiv's and other cities' streets, trying to extract from the street those who didn't report voluntarily. From time to time, videos of violent arrests are circulated. The pressure all this exerts on society is enormous.

Only a black swan will help

Eduard Dux, an Israeli-Ukrainian journalist who previously worked in tour guidance – an occupation now rare on Ukrainian streets – reports on emerging wartime dynamics. He describes Telegram groups that track locations of military recruitment officers, enabling draft avoidance. Additionally, he documents cases such as a factory owner who reduced merchandise packaging sizes specifically to hire more women, compensating for acute male labor shortages.

"Those same men remain on the front line," Olena describes the unbearable situation, "and everyone understands this problem. But they say, 'I can't leave my guys, I can't leave my position. I'll fight on one leg, but I'll stay.'" At the same time, she says, "there the people are always eager. They don't have time for reflections on the situation, for crying. They have missions and a short time for rest."

This situation creates growing social tension. "We have a gap in society between military people and civilians," she explains. "They get angry when they see men in city centers, while they're at the front, and these guys are drinking beer in bars."

Zelenskyy's false promises for a law that would enable the partial release of soldiers led to additional frustration. "Our government promised this law was almost ready," Olena recalls angrily. "A week ago, someone asked Zelenskyy about the law, so he answered – 'Oh, no-no, there will be no release before victory.' How can we now take new people into the army when they don't know when and if they'll return?"

The criticism of Zelenskyy is sharper. "In my circle, 99% hated him before the elections, and they hate him now," she says honestly. "He makes a lot of stupid decisions." Olena describes two moments in the war when she felt respect for the president – when he stayed in Kyiv when the Russians invaded ("I need ammunition, not a ride" was his memorable quote), and when he confronted President Trump and his arrogant deputy JD Vance in the Oval Office, who attacked him on the conscription issue and received an answer that the US would also feel these problems if it were caught in war.

I ask her about the future and Ukraine's chances. "The only thing I believe will help us is a black swan." She means the situation in the campaign is so grim that it's hard to imagine the event that could pull the cart out of the mud. The difficult moment in the war? "Maybe it's now, right now. No one sees any reason for optimism."

And still, Olena doesn't believe in the need to reach an agreement with Putin. She simply thinks it has no value. "Zelenskyy is naive; maybe he really believes in the possibility of dialogue with the Russians. There can't be an agreement, not because of us, but because of Putin. No agreements are possible except victory."

Joking in the face of another shell

Despite these words, Zelenskyy still enjoys the support of most Ukrainian citizens. The latest survey by the International Institute of Sociology in Kyiv testifies to 58% trust in the president – a certain decline, but still a clear majority. But even so, and despite demands by presidents in Washington and Moscow to hold elections in the country to "get rid of" the stubborn Jew, no one I spoke with denied that elections cannot be held during wartime, given the constitutional ban on this.

I met with "Roma" in a Kyiv suburb, about a 40-minute drive from its center. He writes professionally, mainly comedy, and appears to have long ago crossed age 40. Before the war that devoured everything, he worked at Zelenskyy's production company, from which his political party also grew. Zelenskyy, who was a comedian before becoming president, played the character of a history teacher who was elected to the presidency in a popular comedy series. "I saw him a few times, but didn't speak with him personally," Roma said.

When the war broke out, Roma was in Kyiv. His future wife was then with her son in another district, and he prepared for a regular workday. "I was supposed to meet a friend, drive to the office to write," he recalls plans that evaporated at 4 a.m., when "we understood no one works anymore." The decision came immediately – "I called her and said, 'Don't come here, I'm going to the army.'"

She decided to come anyway, expecting this would prevent him from fulfilling his decision. They spent one day together before he declared "That's it, I'm going to the army." He admits he "didn't think it would last years." In those days reality was chaotic. Enlistees were forced to purchase most of their equipment themselves and improvise protective gear. Before reaching the front, his training included firing one magazine of bullets.

He was assigned to one of the war's hardest fronts. "Our mission was to stay in positions, hold them. If we retreat, they'll approach," he tells of the difficult battle days. "They shelled us 24 hours, we didn't even shoot. We didn't see anyone, just took beatings. Our mission was to live."

Two years he lived like this. He tells of the difficult first winter, of friends who died and of long watches. But also of humor – "Without jokes it was impossible to survive. When a shell flew over us, we joked."

In the last year he moved to a morale position, providing psychological support and comedy shows for soldiers. "I'm a soldier who went through battles, and I speak with them in the same language." Last May an old hand injury – worsened because of shell impact – led to his discharge from the army. "Almost three and a half years," he summarizes.

Now he's returned to writing. He tells me, as we sit in a hookah bar restaurant(!) in the closed and beautiful neighborhood, that he's writing a series, a kind of Ukrainian version of "Fauda," and hopes to sell it to Netflix. About the Israeli series, he says – "What I loved is that there's no bad person there. Everyone does their job, everyone defends – the Israelis theirs, the Palestinians theirs. Everyone is right about something."

But Roma, who experienced war up close, reaches hard conclusions about the future. "It seems to me this can continue a long time. If the international community doesn't pressure Russia, it will continue forever. Russia has resources for 30 years. We won't hold out."

He recognizes the need for a diplomatic solution, and believes Zelenskyy can provide it. "Political decisions are needed. Zelenskyy made a decision not to talk with Putin. Now he's already ready to talk with Putin. Everything changes, the situation changes, we need to be flexible." He doesn't fear criticism of his position – "They'll tell me things, but I don't care. I was there, I saw. We won't defeat Russia by force. We don't have enough weapons – you can fantasize someone will save us like in a scene in 'The Hobbit,' but it won't happen."

Sweet grandmother on the bus

In Kyiv, there's no coming or going except through land transportation. Civil aviation in the country has been paralyzed since the full Russian invasion in February 2022. Those arriving in the city or leaving it are forced to do so via the route Moscow's armor columns sought to pass, before being stopped in its suburbs due to the boldness of its defenders and the disorder of the invaders. Three years later, silent testimonies to that drama remain in place – iron crosses against tanks along the road ("Czech hedgehogs"), guard positions and camouflage nets, sandbags in government building windows.

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According to HUR, Moscow is arranging for a joint unit of military engineers from the Lao People's Armed Forces to be deployed to Russia's Kursk region, ostensibly to help with mine clearance operations.

Ukraine initially captured 1,300 square kilometers (500 square miles) of Russian territory during a cross-border offensive in the Kursk region, but has since lost most of it to a Russian counteroffensive this year, which has included support from North Korean forces.

Laotian media reported that the country's authorities have agreed to send up to 50 engineers to support Russian efforts. The reports also stated that Laos is offering free rehabilitation services to wounded Russian soldiers.

"Russia, under the pretext of humanitarian rhetoric, is attempting to legitimize the presence of foreign military forces on its territory and is effectively using them to wage war against Ukraine," Ukrainian intelligence said.

This comes as part of a broader Kremlin strategy to recruit foreign manpower. Russia has heavily relied on fighters from Asia and Africa, as well as from North Korea. Ukraine has captured several foreign combatants fighting for Russian forces. An April investigation by the independent Russian outlet Important Stories identified more than 1,500 foreign fighters from 48 countries who have joined Russia's war effort.

Laos, a landlocked country in Southeast Asia bordered by China, Vietnam and Thailand, has not responded to HUR's claim. The country maintains close ties with Moscow and its ally Beijing.

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A profile piece in The Atlantic gives new insights into the man and his works, and how the New York tycoon has in just five months orchestrated prisoner exchanges with Russia, brokered hostage releases from Gaza, and pursued both Iranian nuclear accords and peace in Ukraine. His unprecedented diplomatic latitude comes from a 40-year friendship with President Donald Trump and a deal-making philosophy that sees world leaders not as ideological enemies but as potential business partners. "I'm not an ideologue," Witkoff told the magazine with a smile. "Remember, I'm the amateur diplomat."

"Steve Witkoff emptied his backpack on the conference table in his second-floor office, in the West Wing. He wanted to show me a pager given to him by Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and senior officials of the Mossad. The pager commemorates the intricate operation in which Israel detonated handheld devices used by Hezbollah, the Iranian-sponsored Lebanese militant group, killing or maiming thousands of its operatives," the author of the piece writes. "Witkoff located the gadget amid a tangle of electronics he uses to communicate abroad in his role as America's shadow secretary of state. The back of the pager, he proudly told me, carries an inscription: Dear Steve, friend of the state of Israel. And then the acronym OTJ, for "One Tough Jew."

This toughness is evident in Witkoff's willingness to challenge Netanyahu when American interests demand it, The Atlantic reports. Recently, he worked through back channels to secure Hamas' release of Edan Alexander, the final living American hostage in Gaza – accomplished without Netanyahu's involvement.

Witkoff's meteoric rise has confounded America's professional diplomatic corps. His responsibilities have diminished those of Secretary of State Marco Rubio, who lacks what Witkoff possesses: a 40-year friendship with Trump.

"A person like Donald Trump has many, many, many acquaintances, far too many to even name or count," Susie Wiles, the White House chief of staff, told The Atlantic. "But I think he would say he has very few true friends outside of his family, and Steve has to be first among equals there."

At 68, Witkoff speaks more softly than the president but shares Trump's affinity for bold pronouncements. "We're going to have success in Syria; you're gonna hear about it very quickly. We're going to have success in Libya; you're going to hear it quickly," he told The Atlantic, outlining his ambitious diplomatic agenda.

What distinguishes Witkoff is his complete lack of diplomatic experience. "This is sort of like 'Mr. Smith Goes to the Mideast,'" Senator Lindsey Graham remarked to The Atlantic. Despite his inexperience, Witkoff has shown skepticism in dealing with Israeli officials. To facilitate a January agreement, he reportedly told David Barnea, Mossad's head, that he would need to answer to families whose children might never return from Gaza captivity if Israel rejected the deal.

Around March, US officials initiated direct dialogue with Hamas – breaking with established American protocol. This week's release of Alexander, negotiated with assistance from Bishara Bahbah, chairman of a group formerly called Arab Americans for Trump, completely excluded Israel from the process.

These developments have astounded veteran experts. Aaron David Miller, a former State Department Middle East analyst and negotiator, told The Atlantic that Witkoff "has been empowered to use tools that no administration has ever used." He added, "We've never seen an administration separate itself from Israel like this."

Rather than restraining Israel, Witkoff's approach has been to circumvent Netanyahu to advance Trump's objectives. Israel's recent announcement of intensified warfare in Gaza prompted a shrug from Witkoff. The behavior of Hamas, he told The Atlantic, "has been so poor that Bibi in certain circumstances has felt that he has no alternative." Any lasting resolution, he stated, must involve the "total demilitarization" of Hamas.

Video: Trump arrives in Qatar / Reuters

This breakthrough highlights Israel's failure to free remaining hostages – frustrating Witkoff, who reportedly told hostage families, "Israel is prolonging the war, even though we do not see where further progress can be made." Having Netanyahu's support seems less important to Witkoff than Israeli public backing. He told The Atlantic, "If you look at the public opinion in Israel, it's split more than down the middle on behalf of getting the hostages out and having a negotiated settlement to this thing."

When asked about expectations that Israel would participate in discussions with Hamas, he responded: "I make of it that the president is the president, and I follow his orders."

Witkoff has faced criticism suggesting Qatar's influence over his diplomacy. He rejected these implications, highlighting his pro-Israel credentials: "I was in the tunnels with the head of Southern Command. Does that sound like I'm a Qatari sympathizer? I'm a Krav Maga double black belt. I am no Qatari sympathizer. What I am is a truth teller."

Born in the Bronx and raised on Long Island, Witkoff descended from Eastern European Jews, The Atlantic reports. His father manufactured women's coats while his mother taught third grade. Growing up, he learned Krav Maga, a martial art used in Israeli military training.

Witkoff carries his heritage visibly – during meetings, he displays two Star of David pendants, one from his father and another from his eldest son, who died of a drug overdose in 2011. After Alexander's return from captivity, Witkoff presented him with the necklace once worn by his son.

His team remains extremely compact. "We're like a SWAT team," Witkoff told The Atlantic. He has a deputy, Morgan Ortagus, an experienced national security professional, but otherwise relies on limited staff while accessing intelligence community resources.

Beyond his Israel-Hamas work, Witkoff has met with Putin three times without career diplomats, translators, or note-takers present – Putin's conditions, which Trump approved. He's working on potential peace arrangements for Ukraine and pursuing talks with Iran, where a senior Israeli official expressed doubt about Tehran accepting Washington's terms but offered: "If anyone can reach a deal, it would be Witkoff."

What Witkoff lacks in diplomatic credentials, he compensates for with a dealmaker's perspective. "I'm not an ideologue," Witkoff told The Atlantic. "Remember, I'm the amateur diplomat."

Trump's devotion to Witkoff owes largely to his loyalty after the Capitol riot on January 6, 2021. "Steve was there for him in the worst hours of his life," Thomas J. Barrack Jr., now ambassador to Turkey, told The Atlantic. "In that four-year hiatus, most of the world thought that he was never going to be president again, or maybe never even see the light of day, but Steve stuck with Donald."

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President Donald Trump announced Thursday that he is proposing an unconditional 30-day ceasefire in the Russia-Ukraine war. He threatened, "If the ceasefire is not respected, the US and its partners will impose further sanctions."

Trump wrote in a social media post that he "will remain committed" to peace between Ukraine and Russia, contradicting statements from his administration last month that emphasized the US might withdraw from talks if negotiations didn't advance. The president posted on Truth Social that "This ceasefire must ultimately build toward a Peace Agreement. It can all be done very quickly, and I will be available on a moment's notice if my services are needed."

Talks with Russia/Ukraine continue. The U.S. calls for, ideally, a 30-day unconditional ceasefire. Hopefully, an acceptable ceasefire will be observed, and both Countries will be held accountable for respecting the sanctity of these direct negotiations. If the ceasefire is not…

— Donald J. Trump Posts From His Truth Social (@TrumpDailyPosts) May 8, 2025

Trump noted that both countries would be responsible for maintaining any potential ceasefire, without directly blaming Russia. Negotiations for "lasting peace" would continue with European leaders, he added, as many Europeans had previously feared possible exclusion from Ukraine talks.

On Wednesday, Vice President JD Vance said Russia was "asking for too much" to end the war, and stated at the Munich leadership meeting that Russia had rejected calls for a 30-day ceasefire and that the US would seek a long-term solution. Vance added that there is a "large gap" between Russia and Ukraine, and that both sides would need to sit together to formulate an actual deal.

After a difficult start where Trump attacked Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy as a "dictator without elections" and used the same term during their meeting in the Oval Office in February, the US and Ukraine signed an economic agreement last week to harness Ukraine's "rare materials" and create an investment fund to help Ukraine rebuild after the war ends. The deal came after Trump and Zelenskyy met before Pope Francis' funeral at the Vatican.

Trump turned to his social media platform, Truth Social, shortly after meeting with Zelenskyy, expressing frustration with Russian President Vladimir Putin, saying he might not want to stop the war. Trump's criticism also came after Russia expanded its ground offensive and attacked Kyiv with a series of deadly missile strikes. Russian officials, including Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov, responded that they are ready to reach an agreement.

"Ukraine is ready for a complete ceasefire starting now, from this very moment – 30 days of silence," Zelenskyy wrote on X following Trump's social media post. "A ceasefire, sustained and credible, will be a true indicator of movement toward peace."

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In August 2024, Ukraine stunned the world—and Russia in particular—by launching a surprise incursion into Russia's Kursk region, capturing more than 1,000 square kilometers. However, Ukraine's hold on the Russian Oblast has since shrunk by over half. Overall, Kyiv lost significantly more territory in 2024 than it captured in regards to Russian territory.

An analysis by the Ukrainian military portal "Militarnyi" revealed that during 2024, Ukraine's security forces lost control of up to 3,600 square kilometers (about 1,390 square miles). For comparison, in 2023, Kyiv lost 540 square kilometers but managed to reclaim 430 square kilometers, mainly as part of a summer counteroffensive that ultimately ended in failure.

According to "Militarnyi," Russia's advantage in certain front-lines, with manpower ratios reaching as high as 8:1, played a pivotal role. Additionally, shifts in Russian tactics proved effective. Although Russian forces reportedly lose up to 1,000 soldiers daily (including killed and wounded), the cumulative toll has not halted their territorial gains. These advances account for the loss of 0.6% of Ukraine's total land area.

During the fall and early winter, Russian advances accelerated. In June, they captured approximately 100 square kilometers at a pace of 3.4 square kilometers per day. By November, Russian flags were raised over 610 square kilometers, with a daily advance of 20.3 square kilometers.

The majority of Russian territorial gains occurred in the Donetsk region, securing about 2,740 square kilometers. "Militarnyi" predicts that Russia will continue to focus its efforts on capturing the cities of Kurakhove, Toretsk, and Chasiv Yar in Donetsk. They are also expected to pursue full control of the Donetsk region.

In the Luhansk region, Russia is likely to pressure Ukrainian forces to abandon the eastern bank of the Oskil River and establish a foothold on its western bank. Additionally, Russia may attempt to deploy forces on the western bank of the Dnipro River in the Kherson region, from which they were expelled in the fall of 2022. With the support of North Korean troops, Russia will likely continue its efforts to dismantle Ukraine's foothold in the Kursk region.

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In a stark reversal of fortune, Roman Burtsev, once celebrated for his uncanny resemblance to Leonardo DiCaprio, now finds himself on the frontlines of the Russia-Ukraine conflict, according to Spanish media. His journey from internet fame to conscripted soldier highlights the tumultuous changes many Russians face amidst economic hardship and ongoing war.

Fame can strike from unexpected places, especially when one bears an striking resemblance to a global superstar. Such was the case for Roman Burtsev, a 41-year-old Russian who went viral a few years ago due to his remarkable likeness to Leonardo DiCaprio.

With facial features mirroring the Hollywood icon and a similar style, Burtsev landed modeling gigs, appeared in commercials, and even gave interviews at events as if he were DiCaprio's official Russian doppelganger. However, Burtsev's current reality is a far cry from the charmed life of a Hollywood A-lister, and his fleeting brush with fame faded faster than it arrived.

41-year-old Roman Burtsev from Podolsk, who became famous in 2016 due to his resemblance to a Hollywood star, signed a contract with the Russian Ministry of Defense and is currently on front.#Ukraine #Russia #warfare #war #intel #intelligence #osint #combat #warnews pic.twitter.com/620rIRWNNo

— OSINT Wartec (@OSINTMilitia) October 7, 2024

In recent years, Burtsev experienced a dramatic weight gain, leading to a steep decline in job offers. This downward spiral accelerated with the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020, effectively drying up any remaining work opportunities. Instead of basking in the glow of camera flashes and red carpet events, he found himself living with his parents and pet cat in a cramped council flat, scraping by on temporary jobs.

The harsh reality of his situation intensified when Burtsev, like many Russian men struggling in the face of the economic crisis, was recently conscripted into the Russian army and deployed to the frontlines of the ongoing Russia-Ukraine conflict. This grim and perilous reality is far from the Hollywood glamour he once emulated.

In a twist of irony, the forced military service may offer some financial relief to Burtsev and his family despite the obvious dangers. Upon enlistment, he received a one-time payment of $19,700, with a monthly salary of $2,000 for as long as he remains on the front. In the event of his death in combat, his family could be eligible for compensation of up to $122,000.

A recently circulated photograph, which has gone viral under far less glamorous circumstances, shows Burtsev – eight years younger than the 49-year-old DiCaprio – in military uniform, armed with a rifle, standing on the front line. This is the same Burtsev who, not long ago, was desperately trying to shed weight and reclaim his "DiCaprio figure," as he put it, in hopes of returning to the world of advertising and glamour. For now, it seems that the dream has been put on indefinite hold.

The post Leonardo DiCaprio double sent to Russian frontlines appeared first on www.israelhayom.com.

A constant buzzing, a monotonous noise that somehow overpowers the sounds of gunfire, explosions, and tank engines. This hum, produced by the engines of dozens of drones of various types, has become the soundtrack of modern warfare, including Gaza's eastern Shuja'iyya neighborhood.

Along with a unit from the 202nd Battalion of the IDF's Paratroopers Brigade and a group of journalists, we observed the progress made by Israeli forces in a neighborhood that has become a symbol for Hamas, uncovering tunnels, shelters, explosives, and terrorists moving from ruin to ruin amid clouds of dust and debris. Just meters from the front lines, inside a partially destroyed building, sat the battalion's "fire team" – a small group of soldiers engaged in 21st-century warfare.

Inside a relatively clean room, the soldiers had set up a generator, fans, computer screens, and shelves packed with batteries, antennas, and a small but battle-hardened fleet of drones. These small drones, operating like miniature helicopters, have dramatically transformed the modern battlefield in recent years. Paz Buskila, the unit commander, said they received their first drone from the deputy battalion commander and learned during combat what they could do with the new equipment. "We started with one drone for observation. Over time, we expanded and upgraded the equipment. Now, not only can we accurately close fire loops, but we can also drop bombs from the drones," he explained.

Matan Green, a soldier in the team, was operating a drone while we talked. It was astonishing to see the battlefield laid out before him and what he could locate in the few minutes we conversed. I asked him where he learned to operate the tool, which provides real-time intelligence for the entire battalion. "I have some background in robotics from high school, but I mostly learned by watching videos of Ukrainian soldiers," he said. This wasn't surprising, as the war in Ukraine, which began with Russia's full-scale invasion in 2022, has become a testing ground for combat drones.

"Like a Western movie"

Drones are generally small, short-range unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs) with propulsion similar to that of helicopters, using rotors for lift and speed. Military drones are divided into three basic categories based on their use, with many variations within each category. Intelligence-gathering drones, equipped with cameras—sometimes even infrared—help forces locate enemies and direct fire. They come in various sizes, from tiny reconnaissance drones that can enter buildings and tunnels to larger ones providing aerial views of entire combat zones with multiple cameras.

Video: Moment of a Ukrainian drone strike on a power station in Russia.

Bomb-dropping drones are fitted with mechanisms that release grenades or bombs, sometimes several, directly onto enemies below. The final category is suicide drones, usually fast, highly maneuverable racing drones loaded with explosives, essentially acting as guided missiles aimed at enemy targets with terrifying precision. It's no wonder the young soldier in Shuja'iyya was watching videos of drone operations in Ukraine. A quick online search reveals thousands of examples of how Ukrainians have perfected the small aircraft into fearsome weapons.

One of the key players in this chapter of military history is Cyclops. His real name is withheld, but he earned the nickname from his comrades due to his habit of closing one eye while flying drones, a nod to Greek mythology. When the Russians invaded southern Ukraine, Cyclops joined a small group of partisans in a desperate effort to stop the Russians from reaching the city of Odessa.

"I got into drones by accident. We found a large stash of drones and equipment in a Russian truck after ambushing a convoy in the early days of the invasion," he explained. "We were a group of partisans with makeshift weapons and worn-out gear, and our only goal was to prevent the enemy from establishing a foothold in our territory. It was like some kind of Western movie—we followed the enemy's tracks, ambushed them, and captured tons of trucks and military equipment."

Proper drone operation gave these inexperienced volunteers an advantage, allowing them to manage a highly effective defense. "We did this without any regular Ukrainian military presence alongside us. The enemy didn't expect partisans in southern Ukraine, and in those first days, we learned how to operate the drones and realized their immense potential for aerial reconnaissance and guiding our forces," Cyclops added.

As the months passed and the war became more static, the importance of drones and their operators only grew. Makeshift workshops for producing and upgrading civilian drones were established, and experienced operators became hot commodities among military units. "In the beginning, there wasn't time or resources for organized training in drone operation or tactics. We learned everything ourselves in the heat of battle," Cyclops said, becoming a recognized name in the field. "With drones, you can conduct almost any military mission—gathering intelligence deep in enemy territory, supporting infantry on the move, counter-battery artillery fire, and guiding artillery strikes. You can attack enemy positions, destroy their vehicles, chase their soldiers, and force them to scatter or surrender. We've done all of that at different stages," he proudly shared.

"You become a big target"

Cyclops is part of an independent drone unit that operates alongside other forces, such as infantry, armored, and artillery units. This method differs significantly from the IDF's. "Our daily routine begins with checking our electrical systems, ensuring the batteries are charged, and all equipment works. We have dozens of batteries, antennas, controllers, and more, all requiring constant attention. Without them, nothing works," Cyclops said. "Each team needs a generator and a satellite link, usually through Starlink, to stay operational, and keeping this gear in good shape is just as important as having ammunition."

However, operating drones comes with risks. "Drone teams are always big, visible targets for the enemy. In 90 to 99 percent of cases, drone teams are spotted by enemy drone teams, so it's always a brutal game of cat and mouse. Our biggest threat is shelling, and the enemy fires everything they have at us, knowing that one active drone can cause massive damage," Cyclops explained, recounting several close calls.

Daily life for the team swings between dodging shellfire, countering Russian drones, and routine tasks like hours of analyzing intelligence footage or searching for a good spot to launch drones. Repairing drones and vehicles also takes a toll, as does carrying heavy equipment to remote positions.

Cyclops vividly remembers his most successful mission: "In the early months of the invasion, I spotted a large enemy concentration. I coordinated with a nearby artillery unit and guided their fire accurately. Out of 50 enemy trucks, 23 were destroyed, along with large amounts of ammunition, two fuel tankers, and a shell depot. The whole event took just 20 minutes, but I remember every second."

"Rewriting the rules of war"

"Drones can be used for almost any type of military mission. Most of our reconnaissance drones are models from companies like DJI or Autel, for example, but when it comes to suicide or bombing drones, the variety is simply endless," explains Cyclops. The range of models used by the Ukrainian military to target Russian forces is indeed staggering. Since many units acquire drones independently and adapt them with different, often improvised, weaponry, you can see a wide array of attack drones, sometimes quite bizarre.

These drones are divided into two categories: the first includes kamikaze drones, usually armed with an RPG warhead or other explosive device, and the second consists of bomb-dropping drones, which release grenades, small bombs, and even anti-tank mines on Russian military forces. The Ukrainians have even created their own subcategory of heavy-duty drones, referred to by the Russians as "Baba Yaga," named after the flying witch from Russian mythology. This monstrous drone, equipped with six rotors, can drop multiple mortar shells or carry electronic warfare equipment. In recent weeks, drones of this model have even been recorded dropping thermite, a burning chemical agent, on Russian military positions.

Without unmanned systems, Cyclops believes the situation would be much more difficult for Ukraine. "Drone warfare helped us bridge the gap in enemy numbers and equipment, especially in terms of ammunition. This is a war no one really knows how to fight, and we're inventing the rules as we go," he said. The rapid evolution in the field means that what worked a year ago is now nearly obsolete. "It's a crazy race, and who knows where it will lead as the war continues," he added.

Cyclops watches videos of drone use in Gaza by both the IDF and Hamas and recognizes similar patterns, offering professional advice. "Countries that want a modern, resilient army need to include entire drone battalions or even brigades, improve communication systems, and develop reliable components for their drone fleets. And they should start now."

Drone warfare, much of it developed from the ground up, also reflects a broader shift in how weaponry evolves. Both in Israel and Ukraine, civilians have donated drones purchased online, and soldiers, along with military developers, have transformed them into increasingly effective weapons over time. This shift, where entire categories of weapons are developed not in massive arms manufacturers' labs but in small workshops, trenches, and abandoned apartments, underscores the unpredictable future of 21st-century warfare and the many surprises that may lie ahead as the world teeters on the brink of a broader conflict.

The post From Odessa to Shuja'iyya – how drones have changed the modern battlefield appeared first on www.israelhayom.com.

Russian military bloggers posted a video today (Saturday) allegedly showing the destruction of an Israeli-made radar system using a "Lancet" loitering munition in eastern Ukraine.

According to social media accounts associated with the Kremlin, the short video shows the destruction of what is claimed to be a mobile radar station model ieMHR, produced by the Israeli company RADA Electronic Industries. While there is no official confirmation from Ukraine or Russia, the contours of the facility seen being destroyed in the video match those of the system in question.

Rus ordusu, İsrail üretimi RADA ieMHR 4D işlemeli AESA erken uyarı radarını imha etti.

pic.twitter.com/PX1cmlyGS9

— CMD (@cmd_exee) August 22, 2024

In May 2023, a Lithuanian volunteer organization announced it had purchased 16 models of this system for the Ukrainian military, costing $14 million. The transfer of the system was documented by the volunteers, and it was seen alongside Ukrainian soldiers in photos taken at the time.

The ieMHR radar system is designed to detect drones, shells, rockets, and mortar bombs. It does not have interception capabilities and is intended for detection purposes to support short-range air defense systems. Ukraine continues to suffer from repeated drone attacks by Russia and requires means to detect and intercept various types of threats.

The post Report: Russia destroys Israeli-made radar in Ukraine appeared first on www.israelhayom.com.

A Russian company has offered a substantial bounty for the destruction of Western-supplied fighter jets in Ukraine as Kyiv prepares to receive its first F-16 aircraft. This announcement comes as Ukraine expects to receive 24 F-16 fighter jets from Denmark and the Netherlands this summer, a development that could potentially shift the balance of air power in the ongoing conflict.

Fores, a Ural-based supplier of ceramic proppant for oil towers, announced a reward "for the destruction of F-15 and F-16 fighter jets. The reward for the first one will be 15 million rubles ($169,590 USD)", according to Euromaidan Press, citing the Russian Defense Ministry.

A Russian company, FORES, announced a reward of 15 million rubles ($169,590) for the first destruction of Western-supplied F-16 fighter jets in Ukraine.

Last year, the company promised 5 million rubles ($ 56,561) for the first destroyed Leopard or Abrams tanks. pic.twitter.com/RZlXjo5hPb

— Euromaidan Press (@EuromaidanPress) July 16, 2024

 The bounty offer is not unprecedented for Fores. Last year, the company promised 5 million rubles ($56,561) for the first destroyed Leopard or Abrams tank, 2 million ($22,624) for the second, and 500,000 rubles ($5,656) for subsequent ones, Euromaidan Press reported. A Russian music group called "Zemlyany" promised between 700,000 ($7,918) and one million rubles ($11,312) for a destroyed Leopard tank last year. Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Peskov commented on the initiative, saying that while Russian forces "will burn all the tanks that the West supplies to Ukraine anyway," the prize would serve as an additional incentive.

Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy has emphasized the critical need for fighter jets in Ukraine's defense strategy. He stated that Ukraine requires 128 F-16 jets to achieve air parity with Russia, which reportedly deploys 300 aircraft daily against Ukraine. Zelenskyy underscored that even 50 jets would be insufficient for Ukraine's defense needs.

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