Izogibanje vsega, kar je iz Rusije

The US is cheating the Nazi regime of Ukraine
It turns out that the $40 billion allocated to Ukraine will not be give in full and immediately. About $5 billion will be spent in 2022 and 2023 fiscal years. $14 bln only in 2026 f.y. and beyond, and some won't be spent at all until FY2031.
The case when the biggest victory ("peremoha") turned into the treason ("zrada") of the century. And they didn't even have time to celebrate.
Earlier today some insiders said that the United States and NATO are suspending the shipment of modern weapons to Ukraine, since the eastern front of the Armed Forces of Ukraine began to crumble before our eyes. Washington no longer believes that Zelensky and his regime will last at least until the end of the year.
Looks like the Afghan scenario.

D3m je 27. maj 2022 ob 22:55 izjavil:

The US is cheating the Nazi regime of Ukraine
It turns out that the $40 billion allocated to Ukraine will not be give in full and immediately. About $5 billion will be spent in 2022 and 2023 fiscal years. $14 bln only in 2026 f.y. and beyond, and some won't be spent at all until FY2031.
The case when the biggest victory ("peremoha") turned into the treason ("zrada") of the century. And they didn't even have time to celebrate.
Earlier today some insiders said that the United States and NATO are suspending the shipment of modern weapons to Ukraine, since the eastern front of the Armed Forces of Ukraine began to crumble before our eyes. Washington no longer believes that Zelensky and his regime will last at least until the end of the year.
Looks like the Afghan scenario.

some insiders said LMAO

Saj veš Mackilla, kot sobotna priloga....znanstveniki so pravili.

Rusi so že prišli po vlak mrtvih rusov? jaz se na mestu ukrajincev ne bi s tem ubadal.

endelin je 28. maj 2022 ob 00:20 izjavil:

Rusi so že prišli po vlak mrtvih rusov? jaz se na mestu ukrajincev ne bi s tem ubadal.

Historian John Sadler states that "Many who died that day in Waterloo were buried in shallow graves but their bodies were later disinterred and their skeletons taken. They were ground down and used as fertiliser and taken back home to be used on English crops.
Če jih nočejo se jih lahko porabi tudi drugače. Treba je gledati iz ekonomskega vidika. Grozno vem ampak potrebno je biti praktičen.

TezkoDihanje je 28. maj 2022 ob 08:46 izjavil:

https://twitter.com/mdmitri91/status/15...
Russian soldiers leave their units in droves. This is confirmed in an intercepted call where a Russian soldier says how as soon as it's someone's time to leave after their contract ends, 8-10 people will join them in the truck.

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https://twitter.com/mdmitri91/status/15...
Igor Girkin on mass mobilisation in L/DPR where even very sick people were enlisted and sent to the frontlines together with healthy people.

Pac-Man je 28. maj 2022 ob 00:41 izjavil:

Naslednji teden pa, M270 says hi, ali ko pizda odgrizne kurac.

Dobil bodo predvsem mobilnejše verzije M142 HIMARS
M142 HIMARS @ Wikipedia

Verjetno bodo Ukrajinci potrebovali kar nekaj časa,da se naučijo uporabljati? Kako natančno pa je to?

TezkoDihanje je 28. maj 2022 ob 09:32 izjavil:

mackilla je 28. maj 2022 ob 09:22 izjavil:

Verjetno bodo Ukrajinci potrebovali kar nekaj časa,da se naučijo uporabljati? Kako natančno pa je to?

Rakete so vodene.

Obstaja en kup municije:

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CHINA: FRIEND OR FOE? | Russia, Get Ready For This


- trgovina med Kitajsko in Rusijo je po treh mesecih padla za 25%
- Kitajska je prepovedala letalom pod rusko zastavo proizvajalcev Boeing in Airbus prelet nad Kitajsko

Samo sistem izgleda dosti zapleten. Že za nemške havbice se bodo morali usposabljati več kot mesec. A je mogoče,da so jih Američani pripravljali na uporabo že v naprej?

TezkoDihanje je 28. maj 2022 ob 09:44 izjavil:

mackilla je 28. maj 2022 ob 09:41 izjavil:

Samo sistem izgleda dosti zapleten. Že za nemške havbice se bodo morali usposabljati več kot mesec. A je mogoče,da so jih Američani pripravljali na uporabo že v naprej?

Men se pa ne zdi kaj dosti zapleten. Je tudi samovozen sistem.
Vpišeš koordinate, kam letijo rakete in to je to. Precej manj kot pa M777, ki jih je treba skozi naravnavat.

V enem kredibilnem clanku sem cital (zdaj ga ne najdem), da se operaterje za HIMARS usposobi v dveh tednih. Kako je z M270, ne vem, zna biti podobno.

https://twitter.com/dkaleniuk/status/15...

On May 18, the heading “Denazification” appeared on the Telegram channel of one of the pro-Russian bloggers. He uploads videos every day, in which frightened and exhausted residents of the Kherson and Zaporizhia regions repent of disloyalty to the Russians. Almost every one of them confusingly pronounces a memorized speech, sometimes just reading from a piece of paper, but at the end people always say the phrase “I went through the full course of denazification.”

May 18 at 19:16. Kherson resident Vitaly Kolyukhov admits that he organized fundraising for thermal imagers for the Ukrainian army. He sent the money for the purchase, but doesn’t know if the military received it. The young man urges not to participate in the training camp and not to help the Armed Forces of Ukraine, as they shell Kherson every day. Throughout the video, he looks down at his feet and periodically to the side. [video]

The video in which Roman Safarov apologizes for calling on Ukrainians to resist. Now he is calling on the Ukrainian army to lay down its arms. He asks for forgiveness from the Russian military. During a monologue, the man stands half-dressed against a wall. [video]

May 20. 30-year-old Viktor Kvitka “confesses” that he “fell under Ukrainian propaganda, wished death on Russian servicemen, wrote on social networks about his readiness to shoot Russian soldiers, did not show respect (to russians)”. “I called them orcs because I didn’t understand purpose of a special military operation. After I completed the full course of denazification,I realized that I was wrong”. Traces of gore can be seen in the corner of his mouth. Judging by open data, Viktor is a happy family man. [video]

Hey @ThorHalvorssen @OsloFF this is kind of propaganda Ovsyannikova was doing for years. Still you are wondering why Ukrainians are frustrated with Havel award for her.

https://twitter.com/Alexey__Kovalev/sta...
Read this, and if phrases like "off-ramp" or "allowing Putin to save face" or "legitimate security concerns" or "sending weapons to Ukraine unnecessarily prolongs the war" make any sense to you, carefully reevaluate every decision which led you to this point in your life.

New Yorker: A Ukrainian city under a violent new regime

Pac-Man je 28. maj 2022 ob 16:59 izjavil:

https://twitter.com/Alexey__Kovalev/sta...
Read this, and if phrases like "off-ramp" or "allowing Putin to save face" or "legitimate security concerns" or "sending weapons to Ukraine unnecessarily prolongs the war" make any sense to you, carefully reevaluate every decision which led you to this point in your life.

New Yorker: A Ukrainian city under a violent new regime

Berem:

...

“Russian units were on the march and, without encountering any resistance, entered Melitopol,” the Russian Defense Ministry declared. The troops posted flyers around town, which included a message from Vla­dimir Putin to the citizens of Ukraine: “Today’s events relate not to the desire to curtail the interests of Ukraine and the Ukrainian people but to the defense of Russia itself from those who have taken Ukraine hostage and are using it against our country and its people. I call for your coöperation so that we can quickly turn this tragic page and move forward together.”

Russian troops also distributed leaflets with instructions on how locals should behave during the “special military operation.” Ukrainians were told to keep away from Russian soldiers and their armored vehicles, to give them the right of way on the street, and to remain unarmed. To avoid “propaganda and disinformation from Kyiv,” the leaflets said, Melitopol’s residents should tune in to Russian state television, and to the Telegram channel of one of Moscow’s most famous and bombastic propagandists, Vladimir Solovyov. People driving around town discovered that the local radio airwaves had been taken over by Russian broadcasts, including one that aired a speech by Putin over and over.

Melitopol is an agricultural center, known for its honey and deep-red cherries, and its population is largely Russian-­speaking. But in recent years, Fedorov told me, as the city attracted funding from the European Union and unveiled a series of urban-renewal projects—a new ice rink and public swimming pool, a state-of-the-art infectious-­disease clinic­—its identity had become less and less tied to Russia, let alone to the long decades of Soviet rule. Fedorov himself, a triathlete with a boyish smirk, close-cropped brown hair, and jutting ears, embodied a new generation of democratic leaders in Ukraine. He won a seat on Melitopol’s city council in his early twenties; in 2020, at the age of thirty-­two, he was elected mayor. “People stopped living in the past and started to believe in the future,” he said.

...

One afternoon, Serhii Pryima, the head of Melitopol’s district council, was driving near the outskirts of the city when he was stopped at a checkpoint. Pryima asked one of the Russian soldiers, who looked no older than twenty, what he was doing there. “We’ve come to liberate you,” the soldier replied. “From whom?” Pryima asked. The soldier had no answer.

After the Russian Army invaded, Fedorov set up temporary headquarters in the Soviet-era House of Culture, on Melitopol’s main square. The occupation had put him in an odd position. Russian troops controlled the city, but he was still mayor. Initially, they told Fedorov that he’d be left alone to run city business. He was summoned at gunpoint to a meeting with a group of senior Russian officials. He told them, “You won’t be here for long.” One replied, “We’re here forever.” Another said, “You carry out your functions, we’ll carry out ours.”

...

“If Russian troops had come to Melitopol in 2014, they would indeed have been welcomed with bread and salt,” Fedorov told me, using a Russian expression that means to be greeted with hospitality. Putin’s acts of aggression since then have changed public attitudes. (...) “We didn’t want to see Melitopol become a banana republic,” Vlad Pryima, Serhii’s twenty-two-year-old son, who works in I.T., said. “And it became clear that’s what one should expect under Russian rule.”

The first mass protest against the Russian takeover of Melitopol was held on March 2nd. Several hundred people gathered in Victory Square, in the center of the city, chanting “Melitopol is Ukraine!” At first, Russian troops “seemed confused, as if they hadn’t been expecting such a situation,” Evhen Pokoptsev, a Melitopol resident who participated in the protest, told me. But, as protesters marched on the S.B.U. headquarters, soldiers positioned inside fired warning shots. One protester was struck in the leg.

...

Every few days, Russian officials came to Fedorov’s office to demand that he stop the demonstrations. It was a case of projection: protests in Russia are either nonexistent or imagined to be the work of outside forces. But in the modern political culture of Ukraine, Fedorov said, demonstrations are “part of our DNA.” If a person doesn’t like her President, or her mayor, for that matter, she takes to the streets and says so. “They couldn’t believe that I wasn’t organizing these protests and paying for them,” Fedorov told me. “They said, ‘Stop the protests!’ And I answered, ‘I can’t.’ ”

On the afternoon of March 11th, two weeks into the occupation, Fedorov was sitting at his desk in the House of Culture when a dozen Russian soldiers carrying Kalashnikovs, their faces covered by balaclavas, burst into his office. They tied his hands behind his back and put a black bag over his head. He was told that a criminal case had been opened against him in the Luhansk People’s Republic, a Russian-backed territory in the Donbas. He was accused of financing Right Sector, a nationalist faction that often serves as a bogeyman in Russian propaganda—the “Nazis” of Kremlin legend.

“Are you joking?” Fedorov asked.

“We’re not joking,” one of the soldiers told him. They dragged Fedorov outside and into a waiting van.

...

Two days after Fedorov was imprisoned, eight armed Russian soldiers came to the home of Serhii Pryima and accused him of organizing the protest. Pryima had been expecting such a visit, telling his family, “They’ll probably come for me, too.” The soldiers searched the apartment. They told him to gather a change of clothes, his personal documents, and his cell phone, which they promptly confiscated. Then they tied his hands behind his back, put a bag over his head, and drove him away in a military van.

For more than a month, Pryima’s wife, Natalia, visited the police station, city hall, the regional administration building—anywhere that had been taken over by Russian forces—in search of her husband.

...

Natalia was eventually granted an audience with the newly appointed Russian military commandant of Melitopol. He introduced himself as Saigon, a nom de guerre, and told Natalia that his troops had nothing to do with her husband’s disappearance. “This is a matter for those higher up,” he said.

...

Back at the police station, Fedorov endured long interrogation sessions. His captors pushed him to resign and transfer his authority to Danilchenko. Fedorov took the opportunity to ask what they were doing in his city. They had three explanations, he remembers: to defend the Russian language, to protect Ukrainians from Nazis, and to stop authorities from mistreating veterans of the Second World War. “It was all funny and absurd,” Fedorov said. He told the soldiers guarding him that ninety-five per cent of Melitopol’s residents speak Russian; that he has lived in the city all his life and has never seen a Nazi; and that, by his count, thirty-four veterans live in Melitopol, and he knows just about all of them personally, has their numbers saved in his phone, and tries to visit them often. But his captors seemed to take their imagined picture of an anti-Russian, fascist-­ruled Ukraine seriously. “They repeated it like a mantra, over and over, as if they were zombies,” Fedorov told me.

An air of menace, even violence, was never far away. At night, Fedorov could hear the screams of people being tortured. The Russian soldiers said that they were Ukrainian saboteurs who had been captured in the city after curfew. At one point, Fedorov listened as a man in an adjoining cell shouted in agony; it sounded as if someone was breaking his fingers. “This was happening one metre away,” Fedorov said. “What would stop them from coming to my cell and doing the same thing?”

But after a couple of days the tenor of his interrogations changed. (...) Fedorov sensed that his captors were aware of the uproar: now, instead of pressuring or threatening him, they asked about practical matters of administering the city. “They realized they had created a problem for themselves that they wanted to get rid of,” he told me.

On the evening of March 16th, as darkness was settling over Melitopol, Russian soldiers came to Fedorov’s cell. He was being freed in a prisoner exchange. (...) As Fedorov was led back to Ukrainian-held territory, nine Russian prisoners of war walked in the other direction—the price the Zelensky administration had agreed to pay for Fedorov’s freedom.

Kidnappings have become a hallmark of the invasion. In Melitopol alone, at least three hundred people have been detained by Russian forces. “The aim is to extract a certain benefit from this person while frightening the local population, to send the message that ‘We are the power now, we decide all questions,’ ” Olena Zhuk, the head of Zaporizhzhia’s regional council, said.

...

In Melitopol, the primary targets for arrests and kidnappings have been elected officials, activists, business owners—anyone seen as influential or capable of shaping local opinion. Pryima was eventually released, at the end of April, but others haven’t been as lucky. The owner of a grocery store, for instance, was arrested after handing out free food; the distribution of humanitarian aid was considered the prerogative of the Russian military. Soldiers seized his car and the keys to his store. A month and a half later, he remains missing.

The occupiers seem especially interested in local military-recruitment offices, where they have gathered the names of veterans who they fear might pose a threat. “All you have to do is find a janitor and order him or her at the barrel of a gun to unlock the room where the records are kept,” Zhuk said. In Melitopol, the records were even easier to access. A Ukrainian officer at the city’s recruitment office switched sides and gave the Russian soldiers lists with hundreds of names.

A local veteran of the war in the Donbas, who asked to be called Oleksa, told me that, after Melitopol was occupied, he felt certain that his military service would make him a target. (...) He hid at the homes of friends and relatives, until he could secure a ride out of town. But, as he was fleeing, the car was stopped at a checkpoint manned by troops from the Donetsk People’s Republic, another Russian-backed territory in the Donbas. They ordered him out of the car at gunpoint.

The soldiers marched him to their nearby base, where they slapped and kicked him, and fired a gun next to his ear. They brought him out to a field, handed him a shovel, and told him to dig a grave. Once he was several feet deep, a soldier shot him in the leg. Another soldier slammed him in the head with a rifle butt, knocking him to the ground in the pit he had dug. He briefly lost consciousness.

After he came to, he was brought to the former base of the 25th Brigade, in Melitopol. Russian soldiers there were carrying out a process known since the Chechen wars of the nineties as “filtration,” a dark euphemism for separating prisoners into categories, with varying degrees of violence applied to each. As Oleksa remembered, interrogators at the airbase were intent on sniffing out anyone they considered a Ukrainian nationalist. Prisoners from Ukrainian military units such as Azov, which has attracted fighters with far-right sympathies, were subjected to regular beatings and torture. Some were locked in a metal safe until they lost consciousness and had to be revived by Russian Army doctors. Oleksa got off relatively lightly: a Russian officer told his soldiers that Oleksa’s head was already smashed in, and not to hit him too hard.

After about a week, Oleksa was driven east to a Soviet-era prison colony outside the city of Donetsk. (...) Oleksa spent several days there before he was moved again, this time across the border into Russia, where he was deposited at a military jail in the Rostov region. This was perhaps the harshest stop of all, he said: “They beat us during interrogations. They beat us because we were standing the wrong way. They beat us for pleasure. They beat us just because.”

Oleksa’s captors broke his ribs and rendered his feet so bruised and swollen that they wouldn’t fit into his boots. His journey continued to a prison in Voronezh, a Russian city nearly four hundred miles away. There, he was given forms to fill out, with questions ranging from his political allegiances (“Nationalist/Patriotic/Indifferent”) to what he thought of Russia’s annexation of Crimea. Finally, a Russian official showed him another document, which was dense and complicated but with a clear enough conclusion: a tribunal that Oleksa had never heard of had convicted him of war crimes and sentenced him to thirty years in prison.

But just as quickly Oleksa’s fate shifted again. He and a number of other imprisoned Ukrainians were hustled aboard a military transport plane and flown to Sevastopol, a port city in Crimea and the site of a major Russian base. The next day, he was driven two hundred and thirty miles to a bridge in Kamianske, the same spot where Fedorov, the mayor, was freed, and let go in a prisoner exchange.

Svetlana Zalizetskaya is a one-woman media institution in Melitopol, a gadfly and a muckraker who has worked as a journalist in the city for two decades. She’s been a television news anchor and the editor-in-chief of a local newspaper, and, for the past nine years, has overseen her own news site, RIA-Melitopol, which reports on everything from local crimes to the cherry harvest.

RIA-Melitopol has also become the main source for news on the occupation. (...) The site has since tracked who among the local population has agreed to collaborate with the Russian-installed administration, and exposed multiple cases of corruption and theft, such as the three million Ukrainian hryvnia—around a hundred thousand dollars—that Russian troops carted away from a post office in April.

...

Nevertheless, Danilchenko replied, Zali­zetskaya should meet with the Russian commandant, who wanted to see her. “If I entered that meeting, I would not have come out,” Zalizetskaya told me. “I understood it was time to leave.”

Zalizetskaya slipped out of Melitopol unnoticed, decamping to a Ukrainian-­­controlled city that she asked me not to name. She has managed to keep RIA-Melitopol going, scanning social-media posts and relying on a network of sources in Melitopol. But even from a distance Russian authorities moved to silence her. On March 23rd, a week or so after she left town, Russian soldiers showed up at her parents’ apartment, ransacked the rooms, confiscated the couple’s cell phones, and arrested her father. At around ten that evening, Zalizetskaya got a call from him. She asked where he was. “In some basement,” he answered.

Zalizetskaya could hear the voice of a man with a Chechen accent. (Many of the Russian troops in Melitopol are Kadyrovtsy, so named for their allegiance to Ramzan Kadyrov, the head of the Chechen Republic, and known for their violence and brutality.) “Tell her that she should be here,” the Chechen said. Zalizetskaya was terrified, but also furious. “You are holding a pensioner in ill health,” she said. Her father had a heart condition and had recently suffered a stroke. “I won’t come back and I won’t collaborate with you.” The Chechen hung up the phone.

Two days later, Zalizetskaya got another call from her father. He started to recite what sounded like a prepared text: “Sveta, no one is beating me here, they treat me well, everything is fine.” She asked if he had access to his medication; he said no. She pleaded with his captors to release him. She heard a soldier in the background saying, “Tell her not to write any more nasty things.” Later that evening, she got a call from a man who introduced himself as Sergey. From the tenor of his questions, Zalizetskaya assumed he was from the Russian secret services. He was interested in the workings of her news site: who owned it, what interests it represented, and who her sources of information were. Sergey said that Zalizetskaya should coöperate with Russian forces or, barring that, hand over the site to them. “You know that what you are writing about Russian soldiers is not true,” he told her. “They’re not like that.”

Finally, Sergey offered a compromise: if Zalizetskaya wrote a public post saying that the site did not belong to her, her father would be released. “The site belongs to Ukraine, then and now,” Zalizetskaya told me. “I didn’t coöperate with the occupiers, and don’t plan to.” But she wrote the post, and thirty minutes later she got a text message asking where she wanted her father delivered. Home, she answered. The next morning, Zalizetskaya received a photo of her father standing in his front garden.

By early April, as Russia’s occupation of Melitopol stretched into its second month, Danilchenko was trying to project an air of normalcy, reopening the ice rink and resuming municipal services. In an interview with a Crimean news outlet, she thanked the Russian Army for entering the city “so gently and carefully” and freeing it from the “Kyiv regime.” She often spoke to residents in a tone that resembled a parent trying to sound sensible and convincing to her children. In one video address, she announced that the city was replacing Ukrainian television channels with Russian ones. “These days, we feel an acute shortage of access to reliable information,” she said. “Reconfigure your TV receivers and get accurate information.”

...

Local businesses, especially those in the city’s agricultural sector, began to report significant theft. Russian troops broke into the showroom of one company, Agrotek, and made off with more than a million euros’ worth of farm equipment, including two advanced combines, a tractor, and a seeding machine. A few days later, G.P.S. trackers showed that the stolen items were in a rural part of Chechnya. According to Fedorov, the new authorities have been forcing grain producers to give up much of their harvest, and moving it across the border to Russia by the truckload.

Communications slowed. Mobile service cut in and out. Residents took to standing with their phones outside long-closed cafés whose Wi-Fi connections were still active. One afternoon, I reached Mikhail Kumok, the publisher of a local newspaper called the Melitopol Vedomosti. He, too, had been held briefly by a contingent of armed Russians. He was taken from his apartment to the Russian military headquarters for a talk with officers from the F.S.B. “They asked me for ‘informational coöperation,’ ” he remembered. For the next several hours, the F.S.B. officers pushed Kumok to use his newspaper to produce “favorable coverage of events” in town. He declined.

...

Days later, the Russian occupiers began printing counterfeit copies of Kumok’s paper, which they used to distribute propaganda around town. One issue featured a portrait of Danilchenko on the front page. “Melitopol is getting used to peaceful life,” she said in an accompanying interview.

The occupying authorities devoted particular attention to the city’s schools, which had been closed for in-person classes since the first day of the invasion.

...

Artem Shulyatyev, the director of a performing-arts school in Melitopol, told me that he was visited by an officer from the F.S.B., who introduced himself as Vladislav. The conversation began politely enough. “You are governed by fascists,” Vladislav told him. “They oppress Russians. But this is wrong, and we are Slavic brothers.” Shulyatyev replied that he didn’t think there were any fascists in Melitopol. “You don’t understand anything,” Vladislav said. “You don’t know about the global plans of fascists.” He then asked if the school had a library, and whether it carried the collected writings of Lenin. “These are very important works,” he said. Shulyatyev said that there wasn’t any Lenin on hand, but, then again, why should a performing-arts school have his works? “Lenin didn’t dance or sing.”

Vladislav moved on to his main point: it was imperative that the school resume in-person classes. Shulyatyev said that this wasn’t possible—it wasn’t safe, and many families had left. Vladislav grew frustrated. “It doesn’t interest us what you want,” he said. “What matters is what we want.”

...

Danilchenko appointed Elena Shapurova, the head of a local technical college, as Melitopol’s education chief. In late March, Shapurova assembled the city’s school principals for a meeting at the college. The educators who attended had conferred beforehand and decided to submit their resignations—none of them were willing to work with the city’s occupying authorities. From the building’s front steps, Shapurova implored them to resume classes and repeatedly motioned for them to come inside. The principals refused. Suddenly, Danilchenko appeared, trailed by men in masks carrying Kalashnikovs, and tried to herd the group inside the building.

“We just turned around and left,” one of the principals told me. This seemed to enrage Danilchenko. She chased after them and, as the principal remembered, yelled, “Then we’ll have you all sent the fuck out of town!”

The educators planned to meet the following day to decide how to respond. “We were in shock,” the principal said. But, the next morning, news went around: four of the principals had been taken from their apartments. One of them later told me that they were held in an unheated garage, where they could hear the sounds of a man being beaten through the walls. After two nights, they were driven twenty miles outside of town. “You refused to coöperate with us, so therefore you are punished,” a military officer told them. “You are deported from Melitopol and prohibited from returning.”

In the end, Danilchenko got her way, at least to a degree: Melitopol’s schools were officially reopened in April, but only a few of them have actually held any classes. Attendance levels have been paltry. (...) Meanwhile, Danilchenko has announced that “pseudo-historical books propagating nationalist ideas” would be removed from Melitopol’s central library, and only “books that tell the true version of history will appear on the shelves.” In a segment that aired on pro-Russian propaganda channels, Shapurova’s husband, a onetime powerlifter who had been appointed head of a grade school, held up a copy of “Ukraine Is Not Russia,” written by the former Ukrainian President Leonid Kuchma, as an example of the kinds of books that should be banned.

...

Bogdan and Yulia Shapovalov, who made the drive with their two kids, were initially from Donetsk, but in 2014, after the Russian-backed militias took over, they fled to Melitopol. They came to like the city’s parks and schools, its European feel. “We didn’t want to leave, but it became hard to breathe,” Yulia told me. They were now planning to head to western Ukraine. “We’re ready to go back to Melitopol,” Yulia said. “But only if it’s part of Ukraine.”

Nearby, I came across two mothers and their teen-age daughters, drinking tea and having a bite to eat. I asked what made them decide to leave. “It’s like the nineties have returned,” Larisa, one of the mothers, said. Instead of driving to the supermarket, she hauled bags back from the open-air market. Lines were everywhere. She had adopted a nickname for the armored vehicles that Russian soldiers drove around town, often with a big letter “Z”—the symbol of the Russian invasion—painted on the side: zalupa mashiny, or “dickhead mobiles.”

...

Russian forces and their local ­proxies, meanwhile, have tried to entrench their hold on Melitopol. In advance of Victory Day, which commemorates the Soviet Union’s defeat of Nazi Germany, Danilchenko announced, with great fanfare, that the Ukrainian flag on the main square would be replaced with a Soviet Red Army flag.

...

korenje3 je 28. maj 2022 ob 18:48 izjavil:

Today at 1:53 PM
The amount of captured javelins, nlaws and other NATO weapons is ridiculous at this point. DPR is straight up using them on Ukrainians all day every day. There is probably 100 ish captured every 48h. The photos don't stop.
:topkek:
When you realize that the entire success of Ukrainian forces thus far has been solely based on Ukrop authorities brainwashing the world via Western media about "liberating all Kiev regions" -- failing to mention Russia withdrew from them before negotiations and Ukrops just walked into empty villages-- the western propaganda becomes even more funny as it falls apart.

Ukraine has not captured/retaken any strategic territory from Russian troops. This comes at a cost of nearly half of USA's stock of anti tank missiles and billions of dollars worth of financial aid, mercenaries, 24/7 Intel from NATO and support by literally the entire EU and NATO.. reality is starting to kick in.

-- Today at 2:05 PM
Intercepted communications from the Ukrainian command reveal their aim to build a layered defense from Poltava through Dnepropetrovsk, Zaporozhia, Krivoy Rog, and Nikolaev - which happens to be a shield for the already fortified Odessa. None of that guarantees success against the incoming Russian onslaught.

It's always important to remember that Operation Z started on February 24 with around 150,000 or so fighters - and definitely not Russia's elite forces. And yet they liberated Mariupol and destroyed the elite neo-Nazi Azov batallion in a matter of only fifty days, cleaning up a city of 400,000 people with minimal casualties.

While fighting a real war on the ground - not those indiscriminate US bombings from the air - in a huge country against a large army, facing multiple technical, financial and logistical challenges, the Russians also managed to liberate Kherson, Zaporizhia and virtually the whole area of the 'baby twins,' the popular republics of Donetsk and Luhansk.
There is a raging debate among Russian military experts on why the Ministry of Defense does not go for a fast strategic victory. They could have reduced Ukraine to rubble - American style - in no time. That's not going to happen. The Russians prefer to advance slowly and surely, in a sort of steamroller pattern. They only advance after sappers have fully surveilled the terrain; after all there are mines everywhere.

The overall pattern is unmistakable, whatever the NATO spin barrage. Ukrainian losses are becoming exponential - as many as 1,500 killed or wounded each day, everyday. If there are 50,000 Ukrainians in the several Donbass cauldrons, they will be gone by the end of June.

Ukraine must have lost as many as 20,000 soldiers in and around Mariupol alone. That's a massive military defeat, largely surpassing Debaltsevo in 2015 and previously Ilovaisk in 2014. The losses near Izyum may be even higher than in Mariupol. And now come the losses in the Severodonetsk corner.

We're talking here about the best Ukrainian forces. It doesn't even matter that only 70 percent of Western weapons sent by NATO ever make it to the battlefield: the major problem is that the best soldiers are going...going...gone, and won't be replaced. Azov neo-Nazis, the 24th Brigade, the 36th Brigade, various Air Assault brigades - they all suffered losses of 60+ percent or have been completely demolished.
The imminent loss of Severodonetsk and Lysichansk will ring serious alarm bells in Washington and Brussels, because that will represent the beginning of the end of the current regime in Kiev. And that, for all practical purposes - and beyond all the lofty rhetoric of "the west stands with you" - means heavy players won't be exactly encouraged to bet on a sinking ship.
?MORE NATO TROPHIES FROM LIBERATED LYMAN?

More tax money from the West that could be used in improving the life of their people was captured

-- Today at 2:21 PM
??Almost fifteen hundred reservists did not attend the exercises of the Estonian army.

Of the 8,800 reservists called up for the exercises of the Republic's Defense Forces "Hedgehog-2000", only 6 thousand people showed up to participate in the maneuvers.

1300 reservists were released from participation for various reasons. Another 1400 preferred not to specify the reason, according to @BALTNEWS.
:assad:
High technology is on the guard of food.

GPS trackers have been installed on meat packages in British stores. Photos are posted on social networks.

Earlier, the Daily Mail reported that the number of thefts in supermarkets in Britain has sharply increased amid a deterioration in the standard of living of citizens.
??Moldova will not be accepted into the EU in any form in the next 15-20 years -- MEP.

Euzen Tomak, the MEP from Romania, said on RFi that Moldova has nothing to count on in the next couple of decades, since the EU member states will not give their consent.

But there is a way out, and Tomak points to this exit with a broad gesture.

"The EU, maybe, will open the doors from the point of view of the economy. But the political decision to unite the Republic of Moldova with Romania remains the safest and fastest way to integrate into the EU, which can be implemented at any time."

Today at 2:32 PM
https://twitter.com/Nekromonger77/statu...
Ukrainian youngster tries to escape forced conscription

-- Today at 3:31 PM
In the last 12 weeks, 25 government/military cargo flights took place between Russia and Iran. There's no public information about this. But something is being exchanged ? Iran is probably getting new toys.

The photos don't stop. Pol pa prilepi slike.

Avstralske donacije že gorijo.
https://twitter.com/AZmilitary1/status/...

Čist pričakovano tole, saj je vojna tam. Ni važno kdo kaj donira, vse je možno uničiti na UA strani ali pa Ruski. Jaz čakam na prvo srečanje BMPT Terminator vs. Javelin xD

korenje3 je 28. maj 2022 ob 18:52 izjavil:

https://twitter.com/200_zoka/status/153...

"There is probably 100 ish captured every 48h."

A bereš, kaj postaš?
Slike stotine in stotine, pa ne onih, ki jih 3x obrnejo, pa še 1x slikajo.

scythe je 28. maj 2022 ob 19:41 izjavil:

Čist pričakovano tole, saj je vojna tam. Ni važno kdo kaj donira, vse je možno uničiti na UA strani ali pa Ruski. Jaz čakam na prvo srečanje BMPT Terminator vs. Javelin xD

BMPT je oklepnik na šasiji T-72. Failan eksperiment, če mene vprašaš.

korenje3 je 28. maj 2022 ob 19:09 izjavil:

Avstralske donacije že gorijo.
https://twitter.com/AZmilitary1/status/...

Odpreš usta, pa zopet lažeš.
Donacije, množina... zakaj vidimo samo en uničen đip (vem, za Dementnega je to "totaly bad day for Ukraine"). Kje jih je več??

TezkoDihanje je 28. maj 2022 ob 19:48 izjavil:

korenje3 je 28. maj 2022 ob 18:52 izjavil:

https://twitter.com/200_zoka/status/153...

"There is probably 100 ish captured every 48h."

A bereš, kaj postaš?
Slike stotine in stotine, pa ne onih, ki jih 3x obrnejo, pa še 1x slikajo.

scythe je 28. maj 2022 ob 19:41 izjavil:

Čist pričakovano tole, saj je vojna tam. Ni važno kdo kaj donira, vse je možno uničiti na UA strani ali pa Ruski. Jaz čakam na prvo srečanje BMPT Terminator vs. Javelin xD

BMPT je oklepnik na šasiji T-72. Failan eksperiment, če mene vprašaš.

korenje3 je 28. maj 2022 ob 19:09 izjavil:

Avstralske donacije že gorijo.
https://twitter.com/AZmilitary1/status/...

Odpreš usta, pa zopet lažeš.
Donacije, množina... zakaj vidimo samo en uničen đip (vem, za Dementnega je to "totaly bad day for Ukraine"). Kje jih je več??

Kaj se hecaš? Najbolj moderni ruski oklepnik Terminator je na šasiji od t72? To bo zagotovo pomota.

D3m je 28. maj 2022 ob 20:51 izjavil:

A je kaki problem s T-72 podvozjem?

Najbolj moderni oklepnik uporablja podvozje,ki je bilo razvito pred več kot pol stoletja. Ti povej meni. A bi imel golfa 8 z podvozjem od golfa 1? A so s t72 dosegli višek razvoja?

Comandante je 27. maj 2022 ob 18:29 izjavil:

PacificBlue je 27. maj 2022 ob 17:00 izjavil:

Pripravite se na jesen. Tisti, ki placujejo mesecno 100eur elektrike, bodo konec leta placevali po 300-400eur. Da ne omenjam se ostalih podrazitev.

Ja seveda, ne nakladaj. A bo kilovatna ura 3€ namesto 0,17€? Plin se je pri mojem dobavitelju podrazil za 100%, namesto 800€ letno bom placal 1100€. Big deal, 300€ vec. Pri elektriki je bila podrazitev bistveno manjsa. Tam pricakujem na letnem nivoju max 100€ vec. In zivim v hisi, blokarji bodo imeli manjse povisanje stroskov.

Cena energije v resnici ne more vec rasti kaj dosti. Ja, plin bo se naslednji dve leti drazji, nafta bo kaksno leto draga, potem pa bomo Ruse odrezali, in se lahko jebejo. Evropa bo imela zaneslivejse vire energije, Rusi pa naj prodajajo svojo brozgo kitajcem 30% pod trzno ceno, in upajo, da ne bo kdo miniral cevovodov.

SEVEDA!!

Saj rusom je že pred tremi tedni zmanjkalo municije in metkov!

Ko bodo ukrajinci korakali po Moskvi, nam bodo pa tako vse vrnili!!

Za tiste, ki še vedno ne dojamete, da so sankcije proti Rusiji žaganje veje, na kateri sedimo. Gonzales lepo pojasni, kakšne nam škodljive otročje trmaste čustvene bolnike imamo za vodje na zahodu.

cias je 29. maj 2022 ob 09:29 izjavil:

EU z novo strategijo:

The head of the European Commission, Ursula von ler Leyen, said that the European Union is forced to buy Russian oil so that Putin does not earn more somewhere else.

Bo nova strategija končno spravila Rusijo na kolena?

Seveda, Putin ze pripravlja svojo odstopno izjavo.

V bistvu se EU fokusira premalo na fizično vojno in preveč na sankcije. EU bi morala pač iti all-in v dobavi orožja. Zahodne elite se igrajo igrice z Rusijo in pošiljajo drobiž Ukrajini, ravno dovolj da bodo ubranili glavnino ozemlja, a ne dovolj za popolnoma obrniti razmerje moči.

Mislm sj po eni strani jih razumem, pussiji so in hočejo Putinu dati neki delno zmago. Z delno zmago je najbrž mišljeno da bodo pustili Rusiji da vzame Lugansk in Donbas. Sam jaz sem mnenja da je to slaba taktika in da mirovnega sporazuma ne bo še desetletja na ta način.

Edini dolgoročna rešitev odnosa z Rusiji sicer je, da z jedrskimi elektrarnami nadomestimo plin. Ampak take stvari trajajo desetletja.

Premalo se fokusiramo na fizično vojno?

Si predstavljaš, kaj se bo zgodilo, če bodo rusi začeli pomagati Iranu/Kubi/Venezueli/... napadati ameriške ladje, streljati ameriške generale, ...

Rusi so zaenkrat še hudo tolerantni - zgolj ščitijo svoje vitalne interese, katerih nikoli niso skrivali. In dlje ko bodo Ukrajinci sanjali "svobodo", več je bodo izgubili.

sds je 29. maj 2022 ob 10:12 izjavil:

Ma ja, vec orozja pomeni samo vec mrtvih.

Ni nujno, mislim da je slabše če je orožja ravno dovolj da se nadaljuje.

sds je 29. maj 2022 ob 10:12 izjavil:

Ma ja, vec orozja pomeni samo vec mrtvih. Jaz mislim, da bi morala EU storiti kaj vec, mobilizirati tebe in te poslati na fronto, pa vse ostale navijace tudi.

Niti slučajno ne drži, največ mrtvih je ko se zavzema mesta, torej po domače ko se fronta premika. Če bi Rusi zavzeli Kijev bi to takoj pomenilo ekstra 100k ali 200k mrtvih.

Najmanj mrtvih (predvsem najmanj civilistov) pa je če je fronta na miru in vojska druga drugi unicujeta opremo. To ni druga svetovna vojna kjer je puška še kaj pomenila, to je spopad težke mahanizacije in raket in topništva in hitreje ko tega težkega orožja zmanjka manj je žrtev.

Najmanj žrtev in unicenja bi bilo, če bi Rusi že na začetku se fokusirali tam kjer ima Ukrajina največ vojske (Donbas), ker pa so šle napast še sever in Kharkov hkrati pa so s tem povzročilo konkretno večje število žrtev in uničenja in to BREZ da bi v zameno za to uničenje kak vojaški cilj dosegli.

Če Ruskega orožja ne zmanjka to pomeni da zasežejo celotno Ukrajino in bi govorili o miljon mrtvih in popolnem uničenju Kijeva, to podpiraš, resno?