The Kramatorsk Diaries part 26

A Trumpian fever dream...

I was in Odesa the night of the American election. A wave of Russian Shahed drones had just wrought chaos in the city, and I struggled to stay awake through the all-night election coverage. Early morning brought another air raid and, to my growing sense of unease, the breaking news that Donald Trump had already been elected the 47th president of the United States. “No good will come of this,” I said sagely to no one before closing my eyes and seeking solace in the sounds of another drone attack.

Fast forward to February 27, and I’m back in England for a break after a nine-month stint in Ukraine. Keir Starmer sat awkwardly beside Trump in the Oval Office; it had the air of a socially awkward teenager’s first date. Starmer spoke in a syrupy tone as he teased Trump with a letter. He dramatically paused before announcing, “It's from THE KING! It’s very special. No one’s EVER had this before.” My toes curled with acute embarrassment syndrome by proxy, and it's quite possible I did a little wee as I peeked through the safety of my fingers. Starmer, aping Emmanuel Macron's tactile approach, then performed some light arm and knee touching, but it felt wrong, as if he was whispering. “It's our little secret, Donald.” Fighting back the nausea, I quit the news, sought solace in a dark, safe space, and contemplated the next big story: Zelenskyy's upcoming meeting with Trump.

I won't attempt to relive the horror of that fateful hour in the White House. To anyone harbouring a scintilla of decency and fairness, these events marked a turning point—the death of humanity and compassion within the U.S. Presidency. The American dream had metamorphosed, in real time, into an American nightmare.

Channel 4 News’s Metals & Minerals correspondent (aka Chief International Editor, Lindsey Hilsum) has covered Ukraine since 2014 and was reporting live from outside the White House. She accurately summed up the spectacle as a setup, a trap laid by Trump and his attack dog, JD Vance, on an unsuspecting Zelenskyy. The Americans had sent a clear signal that Vladimir Putin's exile to the steppes of the international wilderness was over – America had just changed sides.

After her live report, we chatted and agreed that a return to Ukraine was necessary. We planned to meet the following Monday in Kyiv, where I would operate the camera for Channel 4 News. I opted to drive back, a journey of 2400 km or - in more scientific terms: 12 x 200ml cans of Red Bull with double espresso chasers as needed. I left Calais on Friday afternoon at 14:00 hours, slept for two hours in my Arctic sleeping bag next to the car in a frozen German lay-by, and arrived in Lviv by 18:00 on Saturday.

Once back in Kyiv, we met with a group of recruits undergoing basic training with the 3rd Separate Assault Brigade, an elite unit that has been holding back the Russians on the frontline for the past three years. They are all young and all volunteers. Andriiy, 32, an IT engineer hoping to fly drones for the brigade, was dismissive of American interference. “Trump is a person who has no honour. He’s a businessman. He doesn’t care about our country. He doesn’t care about other countries,” he told us during a break from trench warfare training.

Another recruit, Dmytro, dressed in black and wearing a balaclava, had waited until he just turned eighteen to join the Brigade. “In my opinion, it will be impossible to have peace with Russia. I will be fighting all of my life with Russia.” It’s painful to hear such fatalism from one so young, and there was little of the triumphalism of Trump’s boastful statements.

In Kyiv, finding any sense of the optimism emanating from the White House proved fruitless. A senior advisor to President Zelenskyy, who was present at the Jeddah talks, walked a diplomatic tightrope. “From here on in,” he told us, “we will work in conjunction with the Americans.” Perhaps he feared another round of arms and intelligence embargos that recently sent shockwaves through the Ukrainian command.

Trump’s fawning idolisation of Putin seems to be causing more concern and danger than the Russians’ have managed of late. Having agreed to an unconditional thirty-day ceasefire, Kyiv was braced for the outcome of a phone call between Trump and Putin. The conversation, once disclosed, was a masterclass in Putin-style double talk and evasion. Russia would agree to cease attacks on energy infrastructure, but with more strings attached than an episode of Thunderbirds. Ukraine should cease all mobilisation, with a ban on fresh arms supplies – conditions so unrealistic that it would immediately put Kyiv back in the firing line from another round of ‘punishments’ from Washington should they reject the terms. To international observers, it appears that America and Russia are deciding the future of Ukraine amongst themselves, leaving Kyiv as a powerless onlooker.

Meanwhile, on the streets of the capital, at a rally for the survivors and the missing from the siege of Azov Stahl in Mariupol, one of the significant battles of the early days of the invasion, people were scornful of Trump’s lap-dancing for Putin. “America didn’t negotiate with Hitler or Saddam Hussein. Negotiations are impossible,” a survivor told us, highlighting the chasm between the American position and ordinary Ukrainians who have suffered directly at the hands of the Russians.

So, the merry dance continues. With one eye on the Nobel prize, Trump, blinded by his desire to be the peacemaker king, dances a dangerous waltz with a master of the dark arts. It’s how Putin got there and has remained in power, leaving Trump way out of his depth, seemingly unaware of the humiliation currently thundering towards him. It won’t be pretty when it all implodes.