British soldiers to get insect repellant as Covid-19 protection

MoD placing order despite WHO guidance that product would not work

British armed forces are to be given insect repellant to protect them against Covid-19 infection, it has emerged.

The Ministry of Defence confirmed on Friday that it plans to buy stocks of a product containing a lemon eucalyptus oil extract called citriodiol. But questions remain over its effectiveness, with British officials refusing to reveal any evidence it would work.

After the news emerged, Public Health England confirmed the government’s guidance does not include using any such substance to protect against Covid-19 infection.

Soldiers from the 1st Battalion The Royal Welsh training to become Nightingale support workers. Photograph: Uk Ministry Of Defence/Reuters

Similarly, the World Health Organization said there was no evidence the virus can be transmitted by mosquitoes and that an insect repellant would therefore be ineffective. The use of citriodiol to prevent infection does not form part of its advice.

“To protect yourself, clean your hands frequently with an alcohol-based hand rub or wash them with soap and water. Also, avoid close contact with anyone who is coughing and sneezing,” it said.

It is understood that officials are in the process of buying stocks and plan to issue them to members of the army’s 20,000-strong Covid support force.

According to a Sky News report, a source suggested it would be optional, additional to other measures. The broadcaster quoted an anonymous source as saying that, while the repellant may not help protect anyone, it is unlikely to harm them and, therefore, does not present a risk.

The broadcaster added that personnel will also be given a disinfectant to use on themselves before washing and vitamin D supplements to support their immune systems. The measures do not replace physical distancing and other government advice, it said.

An MoD spokesman said: “The protection and wellbeing of armed forces personnel is a priority. To help them remain healthy and available for duty the MoD is considering what additional measures can help their immune systems to stay fighting fit.”

(Source: The Guardian)

A Buddhist priest reflects on growing up on Shiraishi Island during a time of war

“I was born in Showa 8 (1933), the same year as Emperor Akihito,” the head priest of Kairyuji temple tells me. “I have two mothers. My birth mother died when I was 6 years old. My father, a Buddhist priest, remarried and they had three children: one boy and two girls. One girl died young. My younger brother became a banker and lived in London for a long time. He’s now retired, living near Tokyo. My younger sister also lives in Tokyo. That left me to inherit the temple.”

We’re sitting in an improbable English garden located at a Buddhist temple on Shiraishi, an island of 463 people in the Seto Inland Sea. It’s a fine spring day, but when a mosquito buzzes past my face I am careful not to murder it in front of the Buddhist priest sitting across the table from me. His wife is off the island today at ikebana class and we’re currently just passing the time in this little cove of serenity, fenced in from the Buddhist world outside.

In living memory: A monument is marked with a Japanese term that praises the loyalty of those who died in battle. These types of markers were largely banned after World War II, but the people of Shiraishi Island successfully fought to keep theirs. | AMY CHAVEZ

In truth, we’ve been friends for more than 20 years, so we are very comfortable talking to each other. Although most formalities between us were tossed out the window long ago, I still wouldn’t go so far as to kill an insect in front of him.

I was eager to tell the priest that only recently I learned that in Japan a soldier’s grave is markedly different from a common person’s. The obelisk of a soldier’s tombstone is topped with four triangular sides that come together at a point.

“Its like a sword,” says the priest, inferring the Japanese term “ken,” or sword, to describe this shape. “About 120 young men from this island have died in wars since the Meiji Era (1868-1912). But not all of them have these sword tip graves.”

Not only was it a personal decision by the family to elect such a gravestone, but during the American Occupation, Gen. Douglas MacArthur effectively banned the practice of using this shape on tombstones because of its militaristic connotations.

“You know we have a monument here at the temple for the soldiers who died in the wars,” he says. “The writing on it says “忠魂碑” (chūkonhi), a phrase that praises the loyal spirits of those who died in battle. These monuments were mostly destroyed after the war. But here on Shiraishi Island, we resisted this effort and for that reason it still stands today, preserved as a part of our history. If you look closely at the pillar, you can see where they started to fill in the engraved writing, the first step in disassembling it.”

At 85 years old, the priest is one of the few people who can remember what life was like during World War II.

“We elementary school students would walk with the other island people, forming a parade all the way to the harbor to see the soldiers off to war,” he recalls. “There would be a ceremony, and the new recruits would give a parting speech. When the boat disembarked, we all shouted, ‘Banzai! Banzai!‘”

A couple of pals: The head priest of Kairyuji temple on Shiraishi Island checks an electronic dictionary while his new furry friend, a stray kitten, watches from his arms. | AMY CHAVEZ

As he shouts the rallying cry of the Imperial forces, the priest raises his fist in the air and then chuckles at the absurdity of the times.

There were about 2,000 people living on Shiraishi Island at the time.

“I didn’t have any brothers or sisters yet, so I played by myself or with my friends,” he says. “In 1944, when I was 11, we heard about Japanese planes hiding on the backside of the island so my friend and I went to see them. The pilots had dug holes in the beach and their planes were inside the shallow holes, the pilots sitting there too.

“Air attacks were very heavy at that time. We had air raids next door on Kitagi Island, from B-24 bombers. We could hear explosions on Kitagi and in the city of Fukuyama on the mainland. We were not bombed here, maybe because the attacks took place at night. Shiraishi is a small island with few lights. Kitagi is much bigger, so maybe they could see it at night.

“Also, each classroom’s students had to dig a very, very big hole. So if the Americans attacked, we could go down there. Not really a shelter, just a place to hide. We were afraid the school would be bombed. If our wooden schoolhouse caught fire, we would need to work quickly to put it out, so we trained for this by forming a human chain and passing buckets of water from the well to the school. The first person picks up the bucket by the handle (he stands up and demonstrates) and passes it to the next kid who receives the bucket with his hands grasping the bottom. He passes it to the next child who takes the bucket by the handle and so on, all the way down the line. This is the fastest and most efficient way.”

The people on the island didn’t have many items of clothing, not even socks, and there wasn’t much food to eat.

“Even very little boys and girls went together into the mountains where we cultivated plots to grow sweet potatoes or radishes,” he says. “We made salt from the seawater at the port. Even people on the mainland living in the mountains came down to the sea to take buckets of saltwater back to their houses to make pickles.”

The priest is suddenly joined by a tiny kitten who has just climbed up the leg of his pants and is now being cuddled in the crook of his arm. He rescued the abandoned newborn last week and I can already see a lifelong bond beginning to form between them.

“One day all us schoolboys were standing around when we saw a Japanese plane fly over our heads. It turned out to be one of our classmate’s father! He buzzed over his home island, dropped a letter down to his house, then rejoined his airborne group headed to Okinawa. He survived the war and came back to Shiraishi when it was over.

“Another time, my friend came here and shouted, ‘A plane has come! It’s in the port now, in the water.’ I said ‘Liar!’ And he said, ‘No, really!’ So we ran down the hill from the temple to the port. And sure enough,” the priest starts to laugh, “there was a plane floating inside the harbor! It had pontoons under it. I was astonished.”

The priest’s own father avoided conscription due to a problem with his lungs. But even he couldn’t escape the tragedies of war, since he had to perform the funerals for the fallen soldiers. There was a marked increase in fatalities the longer the war dragged on.

“Of course, all us students went down to the harbor to meet the remains of the soldiers when they were sent back,” he says. “Their families would walk carrying framed photos of their sons. Sometimes we had mass funerals at the school. All the island people gathered at the school yard where they lined up the soldiers bones for the ceremony.” Sometimes, they were the fathers of the schoolchildren.

Before the war: A picture of Kairuiji Temple from 1920. | COURTESY OF KAIRYUJI TEMPLE

Just then, I hear a ship’s horn blow and am brought back to the present day. A ferry has entered Shiraishi Island port. Although the harbor is a kilometer away, the sound of the horn rolls up the mountain side to us like smoke from a fire.

“Were there any Shiraishi people affected by the Hiroshima bombing?” I ask. The city of Hiroshima, which was bombed on Aug. 6, 1945, is 125 kilometers to the west of us.

“Hachiro Komiyama was in Hiroshima that day,” the priest recalls. “He was carrying two buckets on the ends of a bamboo pole that was balanced over the back of his shoulders. He was transporting water to his fishing boat. He saw a big flash of light, and was knocked into the sea. He was able to escape on his boat but as he hurried away, he watched flames roar up over the city.

“When he came back to Shiraishi, he told us this story. Later, he found out he had radiation sickness. There was another man who worked for the national railroad at Hiroshima Station. That morning while the employees were doing their morning exercises outside, they saw that very big light. He also got radiation poisoning.”

After the war ended, there were many American soldiers on the mainland in Kasaoka, Okayama Prefecture.

“In front of the train station there were rows of bars and entertainment places for American soldiers that were off-limits to Japanese,” the priest says. “I could hear the foreign music flowing out of the bars. It was the first time for me to hear jazz. Funny music, I thought.”

I hear a car drive up and park in front of the temple. The priest’s wife steps out of the vehicle, and I realize it has gotten late. So I take my leave and head off to the port.

(Source: JT)

The ancient world was full of warrior women – and men were terrified of them

When Romans encountered women in battle, it created quite a stir

One of the great things about computer games is that anything is possible in the almost endless array of situations on offer, whether in realistic or fantasy worlds. But it has been reported that gamers are boycotting Total War: Rome II on the grounds of historical accuracy after developers introduced women generals, apparently to please “feminists”.

But while it’s true that the Romans would not have had female soldiers in their armies, they certainly encountered women in battle – and when they did it created quite a stir. The historians of the ancient world recorded tales of impressive female military commanders from across many cultures.

Zenobia, queen of Palmyra, took advantage of a period of upheaval in the late 3rd century AD to carve a kingdom for herself ( National Gallery/Giambattista Tiepolo )

In the ancient world, when women did go to war, it was usually reported as a complete reversal of the natural order of things. The ancients believed, as Homer’s Iliad claimed, that “war will be men’s business”. In the eyes of the (male) contemporary historians, female warriors were aberrations and often remembered as embodiments of the mythical one-breasted Amazons. These legendary warriors were usually portrayed as slightly unhinged women who behaved unnaturally, and symbolised – to ancient men at least – a world turned on its head.

Yet the star-crossed tale of Achilles and the Amazon warrior queen Penthesilea fascinated the ancient chroniclers. Penthesilea, who led her troops to the support of Troy, was the mythical daughter of Ares, the god of war. She was killed in combat by Achilles who then mourned her, falling in love with the warrior queen for her beauty and valour. The moment is captured on a famous sixth-century BC vase now in the British Museum and was represented in text and imagery across classical Greece and Rome.

When Artemisia of Caria commanded ships on the side of Persians at the Battle of Salamis in 480BC she fought so well that the Persian king Xerxes exclaimed: “My men have become women and my women men.” It was a world turned upside down according to the Greek historian Herodotus – but the soldiers who willingly followed Artemisia into battle could not have thought that way. She must have been skilled and competent and inspired those she commanded.

Amazon warrior queen Penthesilea was killed in combat by Achilles, who then fell in love with her (British Museum)

Cleopatra’s warlike family
In the Hellenistic period – which is generally held to be the period between the death of Alexander the Great in 323BC and the conquest of Egypt by Rome in 31BC – women with real power and agency appear in numerous kingdoms across the eastern Mediterranean. These extraordinary and influential queens often held the keys to power, had personal armies and would not hesitate to go to war.

They were the mothers, daughters and sisters of the kings and generals who succeeded Alexander the Great. The fabulous Cleopatra VII – best known for her affair with Julius Caesar and marriage to Mark Anthony – was the last of a long line of impressive Egyptian queens who went to war. The role of fighting queen had already been well established by her namesakes including Cleopatra Thea and Cleopatra IV.

The indomitable Cleopatra Thea held her own in the ruthless world of Hellenistic dynastic chaos as the queen to three Hellenistic kings, while Cleopatra IV, when divorced from one husband, took a personal army with her to her next husband as dowry.

Palmyra’s warrior queen
Centuries later, Zenobia, queen of Palmyra, took advantage of a period of upheaval in the Middle East in the late third century AD to carve a kingdom for herself and her city – and it was no coincidence that she connected her ancestry back to the fighting traditions of the Hellenistic Cleopatras.

When Zenobia led her armies she did so in the name of her son and took on the Roman emperor Aurelian to protect her city, her region and the interests of her realm. According to the Greek historian Zosimus, Zenobia commanded her troops in battle and people from across the region flocked to her side. Ancient writers were scandalised at the idea of a woman dominating Roman power but she remained a legend across the Middle East in classical and early Islamic histories.

Boudicca was viewed by the Roman men who recorded her history as a woman hell-bent on vengeance (Thomas Thornycroft/Paul Walter)

Boudicca: Britain’s greatest warrior queen
But the most legendary of the female warriors from antiquity has to be the Iceni queen Boudicca. When Boudicca led her rebellion against the Roman occupation of her land in around AD60, the historian Cassius Dio remembered it thus: “All this ruin was brought upon the Romans by a woman, the fact which in itself caused them the greatest shame.”

There is a visceral image that accompanies her name, with long red hair flowing behind (although Dio says she was blonde) as she charges forth in her war chariot. The ancient writers speak of her terrorising the Roman occupants of newly conquered Britannia with her tall stature and fierce eyes. Boudicca was viewed by the Roman men who recorded her history as a woman wronged and hell-bent on vengeance.

Tacitus, our best source for Boudicca’s rebellion, claims that the Celtic women of the British Isles and Ireland frequently fought alongside their men. And when wars were about the survival of a kingdom, a family or a home and children, women would fight if they had to, especially when the only other option was slavery or death.

So when women took to the field in battle in antiquity it was both astonishing and terrifying for the men who recorded the events and shameful to lose to them. It almost always occurred at times of political chaos and dynastic upheaval, when society’s structures loosened and women had to, and could, stand up for themselves. Ancient men did not like to think about having to fight women or having women fight – and it still seems to irk some people today.

(Source: The Independent) 

Watching the World Cup in a war zone, where every goal matters

Headquarters for the 2nd Battalion of the 92nd Brigade of the Ukrainian Army is in a pummeled building that once housed the district road repair agency. War has left the building in even worse shape than the roads. At the entrances, sandbags and tires are stacked in fortification. Logs reinforce the basement ceiling against the shelling.

In the command center, a quarter mile from the front line of a simmering conflict, troop locations are shown on one television. There are blue triangles for the Ukrainian military, red diamonds for the Russian-backed separatists. A second television shows surveillance from cameras placed along the firing zone.

Oleg A., left, the commander of the 2nd Battalion of the 92nd Brigade of Ukraine’s army, talked with soldiers while Alexei Brodskyi, a radio operator, caught a glimpse of a World Cup match on Thursday.CreditBrendan Hoffman for The New York Times

On Thursday evening, a third television tracked Russians, but these happened to be members of the country’s national soccer team playing the opening match of the 2018 World Cup in Moscow.

A peculiar and fragile normalcy has returned to the mining and steel region of eastern Ukraine after four years of fighting that has taken roughly 10,300 lives and displaced about 1.5 million people. Low-grade skirmishes continue daily, and people are still dying, but the Ukrainian military and the separatists have reached a treaty-enforced standstill, like boxers in a clinch.

On Thursday, for the first half anyway, the usual thud of nighttime shelling remained largely silent as some Ukrainian commanders, troops and townspeople watched Russia cruise to a 5-0 victory over Saudi Arabia, sports briefly distracting from politics and war.

The 2nd Battalion had screens in their headquarters highlighting various military activities, as well as the World Cup opener.CreditBrendan Hoffman for The New York Times

Oleg A., 40, the Ukrainian commander of the 2nd Battalion, who like many soldiers declined to give his full name, turned the television to soccer more out of obligation than curiosity. It was for the others, he said. He prefers Formula One auto racing.

“I don’t understand why 22 people run around with one ball,” he said.

A Diversion From War
Ukraine did not qualify for this year’s World Cup. Still, some soldiers said that they looked forward to watching the matches, if disruptions caused by a blocked Ukrainian television channel and slow local internet service could be resolved.

“It unloads your brain,” said a soldier who gave his name as Nikolai. “When you are in the trenches, you can watch a match and the way the ball is passed and you forget everything.”

Many international observers wondered before the World Cup whether fighting would escalate or calm down during the tournament. As the opener began, Oleg A., the battalion commander, led a Times reporter, photographer and translator along a two-mile excursion of Ukrainian combat positions near the front line, to see if any of his troops were watching.

Graying and brawny, garrulous and darkly funny in the way of soldiers, Oleg A. carried an AK-47. The fields and forest felt empty, hushed. The loudest sounds seemed to come from the trilling of birds.

“I don’t think there will be any shooting for two hours,” he said of the rebels. “Russia is playing. Everyone will be watching, 100 percent.”

A soldier on patrol at a combat position near the front line in Avdiivka, Ukraine.
CreditBrendan Hoffman for The New York Times

Near a bunker along a weed-strewn, defended highway, Oleg A. encountered four of his soldiers. Two were filling sandbags. One of them, Aleksandr I., 27, said, “We love football but we don’t have the capacity to watch. The internet is too slow.”

Oleg A. laughed and said, “We will only hear it.”

He looked toward a rebel position just over a mile away. “If those guys will be shouting, everything will be fine,” he said.

At the next Ukrainian position, an Orthodox church along a dirt road in the forest, soccer was again absent. Same problem with the internet.

Water was offered from a well.

“It’s holy water,” one soldier said.

“No,” another said, “it’s beer.”

One of the soldiers, Maxsim S., is a 35-year-old lieutenant who also coaches soccer. Asked what he felt about the Russian team, he replied: “I’m not against and I’m not for. They are people. There is a division between people and the government.”

“You’re starting to worry me,” his commander cut in. “You sound like a philosopher.”

Oleg A. and another soldier surveyed the situation at an abandoned church near the front line.CreditBrendan Hoffman for The New York Times

Six years ago, Ukraine played co-host to the last major international soccer tournament held in the region, when it shared the 2012 European championships with Poland.

The industrial city of Donetsk — only a few miles from the Ukrainian positions — hosted five matches, including a semifinal. The atmosphere was festive back then. Acrobats walked outside the stadium on stilts. Security personnel carried riot helmets in the crook of their arms, like baskets of flowers. A new airport opened for the tournament. The architectural tilt of Donbas Arena made it seem to lift off like a flying saucer.

But Donetsk is no longer controlled by the Ukrainian government. The city is rebel-held and the separatist area is known as the so-called Donetsk People’s Republic. The New York Times repeatedly requested permission to enter the rebel area during the World Cup but was denied.

Fighting here began in 2014, after Ukraine’s pro-Russian president, Viktor F. Yanukovych, fled the country and separatist movements broke out in two eastern Ukrainian provinces. (Russia also annexed the Black Sea peninsula of Crimea from Ukraine that year.) The airport in Donetsk was shelled to a husk. Donbas Arena was wounded, less seriously, by shrapnel.

The stadium now sits empty. Its former occupant, the Ukrainian champion soccer team Shakhtar Donetsk, now plays its home matches 200 miles away in Kharkiv.

Last month, after Shakhtar clinched its 11th title in the Ukrainian Premier League, Ukraine’s president, Petro Poroshenko, wrote in a congratulatory message on Facebook: “I have no doubt that the time will come and this renowned football club will return to its home stadium in the de-occupied Donetsk and will glorify the Ukrainian state with new successes, including in the Champions League.”

Hard Feelings
In most countries, soccer and politics are inextricably connected, like a ball to a foot. Ukraine’s national public television network declined to broadcast the World Cup this year, saying it would amount to Russian propaganda. The Ukrainian soccer federation did not grant credentials to the country’s journalists or request its quota of tickets. There were calls by some politicians to boycott the tournament.

But Ukrainians are passionate about soccer, and there is no comparable international sporting event between mid-June and mid-July. Two other Ukrainian channels decided to broadcast the matches, and some 6,000 Ukrainian fans purchased tickets to attend games in Russia.

Still, Andriy Pavelko, the president of the Ukrainian soccer federation, said that he would follow the matches only on Italian or British television. “We must have some moral restrictions,” he told reporters.

Members of the Ukraine Volunteer Army of Dmitriy Yarosh, a nationalistic militia formerly known as the Right Sector, played a soccer game of their own on Wednesday in Avdiivka.CreditBrendan Hoffman for The New York Times

Local children also showed off their soccer skill at a neighborhood field in Avdiivka on Wednesday.CreditBrendan Hoffman for The New York Times

Yuri Zapisotsky, general secretary of the soccer federation, said in a statement that any broadcasts of the World Cup by Ukrainian channels would be considered collaboration “with the country-aggressor,” meaning Russia.

Eastern Ukraine, though, is far from politics in the distant capital of Kiev. Many people in this region have cultural or familial ties to Russia. In Avdiivka (pronounced av-DEEV-ka) there appears to be little, if any, stigma in rooting for the Russian national team.

“It’s only football,” Inna Koslova, 50, a resident, said as she walked home from a convenience store. “We don’t divide people here.”

The town has a population estimated between 20,000 and 34,000. Life is a jarring mix of the routine and the disrupted. Children and soldiers play soccer at the local stadium, ignoring jagged shrapnel in the grass.

Artyom A., the leader of a unit affiliated with an ultranationalist Ukrainian volunteer battalion known as the Right Sector, picked up a piece of spiky metal and said, “Don’t worry, it won’t explode.”

There are two smaller soccer fields, with artificial turf, where children and adults play in late afternoons in the center of town. Like others strolling in the evening and sitting on park benches, they ignore the sound of mortars, rocket-propelled grenades and tubelike, anti-tank weapons known as SPGs that ritualistically begin to boom like fireworks in the distance.

“It’s not heavy shelling,” said Dima Belous, 13. “You get used to it.”

Nina Kovalyova, a resident of a front-line neighborhood in Avdiivka, outside her house which has been damaged by shelling numerous times over the past several years.CreditBrendan Hoffman for The New York Times

The last heavy fighting here occurred in February 2017, evidenced by the punch-drunk apartment blocks with their pockmarked facades at the city’s edge. Along Yasinovatskyi Lane, leading to the 2nd Battalion headquarters, most everyone has left behind their battered homes, their cherry and apricot trees and even some of their pets. “Looking for a cat,” says a sign spray-painted on a wall.

The home of Nina and Evgeni Kovalyova is typical on this street: shrapnel holes in the metal gate, plastic covering the windows, replacement tin on the shelled roof, no gas for heat in the winter, only well water to drink.

The couple, both pensioners, left for a time when the fighting began, but returned to protect their belongings, to renew their sense of place. “Where to go?” Nina Kovalyova, 64, said. “How to move?”

In a way, she feels lucky. She took visitors to a neighbor’s empty house across the street, saying looters had stolen nearly everything there, “even the spoons and forks.”

She would like to watch the World Cup, she said, if the available Ukrainian television channel is unblocked. But she especially misses traveling to Donbas Arena with her daughter, granddaughter and son-in-law to watch Shakhtar Donetsk.

“Everything is good when it is close to home,” Ms. Kovalyova said. “When it flees, it’s not the same.”

The building being used as the command headquarters for the 2nd Battalion housed a district road repair agency’s offices before the war.CreditBrendan Hoffman for The New York Times

Fireworks in Two Cities
Up the road, Oleg A. returned to 2nd Battalion headquarters at halftime of the World Cup opener, ferried in a combat ambulance. The driver, Capt. Valentin Kocherzhuk, 56, said he expected shooting from the rebels whether Russia won or lost.

“It’s better to hope for 0-0,” he said.

At headquarters, the score was relayed. Russia was already ahead 2-0.

The match was being shown on a Russian television channel. Capt. Dima Shvets, 29, sat in a lounge chair the color of camouflage. He seemed to be the biggest soccer fan at headquarters and said he would love to attend a World Cup.

Even in Russia?

“I’d rather go to Brazil,” he said.

Oleg A. talked with soldiers during the game. An uptick in fighting demanded their attention while the game was in its second half. CreditBrendan Hoffman for The New York Times

Others chose not to watch. It was a matter of principle, said Lt. Alexei J, who is 34. He pointed to his arm and lifted his olive drab T-shirt to show his scars, including a thick pink line along his abdomen.

“All of my 100 shards are telling me not to watch football,” he said.

Lt. Dmitry Yarovoy, 28, the battalion chief of staff, also did not plan to watch. Games seemed too frivolous when enemy soldiers faced one another only 40 or 50 meters apart. “We are not in the right place and the right time to watch football,” he said.

He spent much of the second half in front of a television, observing surveillance cameras along the front line. The Ukrainians had received small-arms fire from the rebels during the first half, he said. Now a sniper and eight or nine other separatists had moved beneath a bridge about three-quarters of a mile away.

Russia went ahead 3-0, but Oleg paid little attention. He had eaten a bowl of cold soup and removed his boots. In his sandals, he peered at his laptop and ordered a strike of 73-millimeter SPG projectiles to push the rebels back. The artillery kicked up plumes of dust and smoke.

“Our night games,” Capt. Shvets said.

Valentin Kocherzhuk, 56, a captain in the Ukrainian army, smoked a cigarette outside the command headquarters on Thursday.CreditBrendan Hoffman for The New York Times

The rebels responded with 82-millimeter mortar fire. Oleg glanced at the match and said, “I’d like to put a big shell in the center of the field.” He sensed that he had gone too far. Quickly, he added, “That’s a joke.”

Russia went ahead by 4-0, then 5-0. The Ukrainians lobbed 120-millimeter mortar fire. Oleg motioned his hands, explaining that one side played a card, then the other side raised the bet.

“Football is finished,” Capt. Shvets said. “Now we start poker.”

(Source: NYT)

Soldier watches baby's birth on FaceTime after flight delay

The birth of a child is one of life's most precious moments - but not all dads can be there to see his son or daughter enter the world.

One American soldier was trying to travel home on Saturday to Brandon, Mississippi after his wife went into labour, but a delayed flight thwarted his journey.

Stuck in the airport, Brooks Lindsey instead watched his daughter Millie's first moments on a video call to his wife Haley Lindsey.

A fellow traveller photographed the expectant dad anxiously watching his phone.

"He was crying and our hearts were breaking. We all gave him space. When we heard the baby cry, we all rejoiced for him. I wanted to share this because I never want us to forget about our soldiers who serve us everyday and the sacrifices they make," posted Tracy Dover on her Facebook page as she shared a photo of Brooks Lindsey.

This Army soldier was on my delayed flight home yesterday to MS. He had to watch the birth of his daughter on FaceTime. He was crying and our hearts were breaking. We all gave him space. When we heard the baby cry, we all rejoiced for him. I wanted to share this because I never want us to forget about our soldiers who serve us everyday and the sacrifices they make.

After the story was shared more than 120,000 times on Facebook and Twitter, other army families have been posting their memories and stories about dads missing the birth of a child because of their job commitments.

Many highlighted the sacrifices made by army personnel who frequently miss out on key family moments.

"My ex-husband made it home a week after my son was born. The Red Cross process is incredibly slow. He rejoined his battalion, and his dad died two months later - he didn't make it back that time until his dad had been dead for two days. He would have killed for some kind of video conference," commented Susan DeCato, whose husband was deployed to Baghdad, Iraq.

One mum said her husband found out about his new baby in a letter that took five weeks to arrive.

I'm grateful for Facetime so this soldier could witness the birth of his daughter. The age of electronics has given us instantaneous access to our loved ones. Nothing like the old days when my husband was informed by snail mail & it took 5 weeks to reach him aboard ship.

— DSF (@DebZGarden) May 7, 2018

Some praised the availability of technology that means even if a father can't be there in person, he can at least watch the birth and support his partner.

"My hubby was deployed when our second was born. We got to video teleconference the next day and he was the first to see her open her eyes. He didn't get home 'til she was almost five months old," wrote Jen Bell.

"My SIL (son-in-law) was on his way home from his station in Germany, to see his daughter born. He saw her for the first time by FaceTime on a layover in Detroit!" wrote Aelena Wade Collinson on Facebook.

Children of army dads also shared their experiences.

Clare Wakeham wrote: "My dad was under the sea in a sub when I was born - if I had been a day late he would have been there. When they got in he was told - he then drove all night to come see me."

But not all children had met their dads so soon. Melissa Griffin wrote on Twitter that she didn't meet her dad for a year because he was stationed in Korea when she was born.

I completely understand & hope he gets to see his child soon. My dad was in Korea when I was born, I didn't get to meet him until I was almost a year old. I treasure my father & thank him for his service & sacrifice often.

— Melissa Griffin (@Vamp_Diaries) May 7, 2018

Fortunately for baby Millie, her father was able to catch a later flight, heading straight to the hospital where he finally met his new girl.

(Source: BBC) 

Big in Israel: Vegan soldiers

How the IDF is handling the changing dietary preferences of its servicemen and women.

Last december, Colonel Avi Harel, a commander in the Israel Defense Forces, was facing a strategic quandary. According to media reports, protesters were threatening revolt from within. They were not satisfied with previous concessions; the status quo, they said, had to change. In hopes of staving off conflict, Harel extended a peace offering: soybeans, legumes, and lentil-based hamburgers.

Veganism has surged in Israel in recent years. According to Israeli news sources, nearly five percent of Israelis now forgo meat, dairy, and eggs, making the Jewish state the most vegan nation, per capita, in the world. Vegan activists point to a 2012 visit from Gary Yourofsky, an American animal-rights crusader, as a turning point. One Yourofsky YouTube video with Hebrew subtitles racked up 1 million views, a substantial number in a country of 8 million people. Israeli restaurants soon jumped on the bandwagon, with Tel Aviv brasseries and Domino’s franchises alike rolling out special vegan menus.

Because Israel has mandatory military service, the surge in vegan citizens has translated into a bumper crop of vegan soldiers. Last year, some of them banded together to protest the lack of animal-free options in mess halls. “We are striving for equal opportunity, to allow vegan soldiers to live honorably and serve the country in the best manner possible,” Major Omer Yuval, a reservist and one of the protest leaders, told Bamahane, the IDF’s weekly magazine.

Which is how Harel, the commander of the IDF’s Food Center, found himself tasked with an unexpected challenge: figuring out how to provide soldiers the fuel necessary to fight, without harming any animals. The resulting vegan meal plan, which debuted in February, includes breakfast boxes packed with tahini, nuts, and dried fruit, as well as soy-based meat substitutes for dinner.

The IDF is also issuing leather-free combat boots and wool-free berets to soldiers who register as vegan, so they can march into battle knowing that no living creature has been harmed in their provisioning. (What happens during battle is, of course, harder to control.)

Support for reduced-cruelty meal plans appears to go all the way to the top. The Israeli daily Yediot Aharonot reported that Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has expressed support for Israel’s “Meatless Monday” movement, adopting a vegetarian day for his staff, security guards, and family at his residence in Jerusalem each week. According to Haaretz, Netanyahu has been reading up on the topic. “[I] understood that animals are more conscious than we thought, which is bothering me and making me think twice,” he said at a cabinet meeting.

(Source: The Atlantic)