They tell us to run, and so we run. Through the scrub, the mud and the undergrowth until we stop under the shelter of trees. Out of breath, out of sight and, for now, out of danger.
This is a place of mud, weapons and nervous energy. We are in the area where the borders of Ukraine, Belarus and Russiaconverge. What was once a novelty on a map is now a tangible military pinch point and Russia’s next assault on Ukraine might well come through this terrain.
We are with the Ukrainian Border Force, who monitor and guard the frontier. A year ago, these people worried about customs checks on the hundreds of lorries that came through every day, en route between Turkey and Russia. It was, says a smiling, broad-shouldered man guard called Barack, “good work – interesting, not too hard”.
Now, there are no lorries and the guards have become the first line of defence. If Russian troops do pour through this border once more – and there is a growing feeling that they will – then these men and women will be the ones to greet them; to try to repel the Russian army. And so, the border guards have adapted to a new and vastly more perilous world.
“I don’t want to do this,” one of them says to me. “But I do it because I love my land and my country. If I need to fight, I will do this without thinking. It’s just work.”
But of course, it isn’t really “just work”. Through the sights of a heavy machine gun, you can see Belarus, just a few kilometres away. The Russian border is not much further away, and shells are fired over regularly. We can hear the regular booms as they land.
Many people around here have left. Those who remain have become accustomed to violence raining down on them – they use bicycles instead of cars, because bikes don’t attract drones.
Image: Barack is a border guard stationed at the triple frontier between Russia, Belarus and Ukraine
Bonhomie, determination and adrenaline
Not far away is a small village that stands right on the border, cut off from the world. It was once home to 100 people but has been almost completely demolished. Maybe ten people remain, and they are almost unreachable.
We are the first foreign journalists to come here and spend time with these guards. What we find is a blend of bonhomie, determination and adrenaline. They’ve already seen one Russian invasion here and they fear another.
Thousands of newly mobilised Russian troops have been sent to Belarus this month to create a so-called “regional force” to defend the border.
Image: A man in a balaclava readies a British-made NLAW missile launcher
In theory, it is a collaboration between the two countries, but few, beyond the Kremlin or Minsk, take that at face value. Just about everyone else sees it as a device for strengthening the Russian presence ahead of a possible attack, designed to stretch Ukrainian resources by opening up another offensive.
There is a precedent, of course. Back in February, Russian troops came over this border and took over the area. They formed a long convoy of vehicles that set off in the direction of Kyiv, before eventually withdrawing in April.
Since then, the border guards have been preparing. They have dug long trenches, where you walk through mud in near darkness with thoughts of World War One in your mind. And yet, in one of these underground rooms, we see computer terminals linked to the Starlink satellite systems.
Image: Oleksander and Olga’s ceiling fell in on them after an explosion rocked their home
I talk to Barack in a room carved out from the trench. There are wooden boards on the floor and a crude bunk bed in the corner. He laughs when I say it feels like we’ve gone back a century, but agrees. I ask him about the Russian troop build-up a short distance away.
“They are becoming more aggressive, but our Ukrainian forces give them a bloody nose!” he laughs again.
‘We need more weapons’
They have a variety of weaponry – heavy machine guns, anti-tank missiles, rifles, ammunition and so on. There are minefields around us and a variety of concealed look-out posts. The job of preparing to resist a huge invading army is an intimidating one. It’s not one that they’re really trained for, but it’s one they’ve embraced.
The trouble is that while the spirit is boundless, the resources are not.
“We need more weapons because we don’t know the intensity of the possible attack. We do not know how long we will need to maintain the defence on the border,” says Halyna, the spokesperson for the Chernihiv border guard unit.
“We are reacting to the raising of the risk by the invasion with more preparation, more fortification – we want to stop them at the border.
“We need heavy weapons. If they send infantry, you can use assault rifles and machine guns and it will all be contained. The problem begins when tanks and their armoured personnel carriers come from their side.”
What, I ask, were the lessons they learned from the February attack?
“That they are unpredictable. This is the first lesson. And they are not our friends.”
Image: Much of the infrastructure around Horodnia hasn’t been repaired since the last assault by Russian troops
It is a lesson that came as a brutal shock to many people in this region, where Ukrainians, Belarusians and Russians have mixed for so many years. The nearest town to this border is Horodnia, which was the first to be taken by the Russians and the last to be relinquished.
They have rebuilt and repainted, but you can still see scars. A little out of town, we came down a rough road and found burnt out trucks, craters, shell casing and even an unexplored rocket lying in the woods.
‘No more brotherly Belarus, no more good Russia’
The houses bear witness to the violence. Oleksander and Olga remember it well. An explosion shook their house so violently that the ceiling fell in on their heads. “There are relatives of ours in Russia and everywhere but now the situation is such that we cheer exclusively for our country,” says Oleksander.
“There is no longer a friendly, brotherly Belarus, or a good Russia. There is only us and them – enemies. This is it.”
It is tempting to be intoxicated by this bravado. Certainly, Ukraine is a nation where resilience is armoured by a sense of grievance and the support of so much of the world. But it is also a nation whose heart has broken.
Image: Nadia lives not far from the triple frontier between Belarus-Russia-Ukraine. She is Belarusian but lives in Ukraine
There is a house at the end of the street that is burnt out. It was bombed, caught fire and was remorselessly wrecked. Nadia watched all this happen from over the road, terrified. She raised the alarm, brought as much water as she could and then cried.
Not long after, her mother died.
Nadia is Belarusian but came here many years ago. Now she is fragile and scared, prepared to hide from another Russian invasion in the outside cellar where she keeps potatoes for the winter. But she fears it would simply collapse and seal her in.
“There is no rest for us here. My nerves are completely gone. What has Ukraine done to them? We have such great people here. They are peaceful people.
“So many people were killed. So many kids. So much grief.” And she weeps.
NASA is accelerating plans to put a nuclear reactor on the moon, and they claim it could happen by 2030.
In a directive – a written or oral instruction issued by the US government – to NASAstaff earlier this month, Sean Duffy, US transport secretary and the new interim administrator of the space agency, said it should be ready to launch a 100 kilowatt nuclear reactor in five years.
Plans to get a reactor on the lunar surface are not new. The NASA website states the space agency is working on the Fission Surface Power Project to create a system capable of generating at least 40 kilowatts of power – but that is less than half of what Mr Duffy has now proposed.
He also stressed the importance of America’s space agency deploying the technology before China and Russia.
“To properly advance this critical technology, to be able to support a future lunar economy, high power energy generation on Mars, and to strengthen our national security in space, it is imperative the agency move quickly,” the directive, which was first reported on by Politico, states.
Image: Sean Duffy says NASA should be ready to launch a 100 kilowatt nuclear reactor in five years. Pic: Reuters
A nuclear reactor on the moon would be considered a key step towards building a permanent base for humans to live on the lunar surface.
But Mr Duffy warned that the first country to deploy a reactor “could potentially declare a keep-out zone” which he said could significantly inhibit NASA’s Artemis mission – the lunar exploration programme which aims to land astronauts back on the moon in 2027.
When quizzed about the plan on 5 August, he told reporters: “We’re in a race to the moon, in a race with China to the moon. And to have a base on the moon, we need energy.”
Why use a nuclear reactor?
Unlike solar power, which is used on the International Space Station, a small nuclear reactor can operate continuously, Dr Sungwoo Lim, a senior lecturer in space applications, exploration and instrumentation at the University of Surrey told Sky News.
This is critical for infrastructure on the moon, which spends two weeks in complete darkness as it slowly orbits the Earth.
Nuclear reactors therefore diminish the need for sunlight, and can be used to power life support, communications and other critical science instruments, even in darkness.
Image: An artist impression of a nuclear reactor on the moon. Pic: NASA
“In practice, this means astronauts could use a reactor to establish sustainable bases and extend exploration to places where solar energy is impractical,” Dr Lim adds, including in the moon’s permanently shadowed region, where scientists believe ice water exists.
Professor Mike Fitzpatrick, an expert in nuclear technology at Coventry University, adds that the proposal of a 100 kilowatt nuclear reactor, is relatively small compared to most that are built on Earth.
To put it in real terms, it takes around three kilowatts to power the kettle in your home.
But Prof Fitzpatrick says a smaller reactor could pose as “demonstrator technology”, something small and compact that makes it easier to transport it to the moon.
“Then you can have a whole array of them,” he says.
So, what’s the catch?
While scientists agree that nuclear energy seems like the necessary way to make progress on the moon, Prof Fitzpatrick says questions still remain about safety.
“Shipping the fuel to the moon is relatively safe, because at that point it is not particularly toxic, it is the highly reactive fission products that become the issue,” he says.
“What’s going to be the strategy for long-term storage and disposal on the moon after these plants have operated for certain periods of time? The sooner those conversations are had, and you have international consensus, the less likely it is you’ll get future friction.”
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0:55
Four astronauts launch to ISS after delay
Dr Lim also questioned Mr Duffy’s timescale of 2030, saying meeting the target depends heavily on the space agency’s budget.
NASA’s future funding is currently unknown after Donald Trump’s 2026 budget request sought a cut of $6bn (£4.5bn) and the termination of dozens of science programs and missions.
Over 2,000 agency employees are also set to voluntarily leave NASA in the coming months under the Trump administration’s “deferred resignation” programme.
Is this the new space race?
Last year, Russia’s space agency Roscosmos said it was planning to build a lunar nuclear reactor alongside China’s National Space Administration by 2035, in order to power the International Lunar Research Station (ILRS).
The collaboration was never formally announced by China but the joint plan was included in a presentation by Chinese officials in April this year, which outlined the 2028 Chang’e-8 lunar mission which aims to lay the groundwork for the ILRS.
“Duffy explicitly described it as a competition,” says Dr Lim, adding that the move towards lunar exploration signals a renewed moon or space race among major parties like China, Russia, India and the US to claim strategic lunar territory and technology.
However, Rossana Deplano a professor of international space law at the University of Leicester, says there is a lot of misunderstanding around “keep out” or safety zones, which Mr Duffy’s directive mentions.
“Safety zones are explicitly recognised in the Artemis Accords,” she says.
“They are a notification and consultation zone to be declared in advance in order to avoid harmful interference.
“They must be temporary in nature and do not establish state jurisdiction, e.g. they cannot be enforced.”
Escalating Israel’s military operation in Gaza to the max – which is reportedly what Israel’s prime minister is leaning towards – will stretch an already exhausted army.
No wonder Eyal Zamir, Israel‘s chief of staff, is reportedly reluctant to go down that route, however much of the messaging from the top has been that the Israel Defence Forces (IDF) will follow whatever the political echelon decides.
No wonder, then, that IDF spokesperson Lieutenant Colonel Nadav Shoshani was reluctant to flesh out the implications of an expanded operation or what a full military “occupation” – touted now as having entered Benjamin Netanyahu‘s lexicon – will look like.
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3:45
IDF calls some aid site shootings ‘fake news’
As he pointed out, Hamasbenefits from international outrage over the spectre of famine in Gaza.
It turns the tide of public opinion against Israel, taking the pressure off Hamas. That may be, in part, why the latest round of ceasefire talks collapsed.
The IDF refuses to accept responsibility for Gaza being on the brink of famine, instead accusing the UN of failing to do their part in an ongoing war of words, although Lt Col Shoshani acknowledged that distributing aid in a war zone is “not simple”.
That is why it should have been left to experts in humanitarian aid distribution – the UN and its agencies, not to US military contractors.
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2:44
Gaza airdrops: ‘No one has mercy’
Given the large number of aid-related deaths reported daily, not just by Gaza’s health ministry but also by doctors who are treating the injured and tying up the body bags, there should be greater accountability.
Lt Col Shoshani said the missing link is the proof that it is IDF soldiers doing the shooting. He is right.
If international journalists were granted access to Gaza, to support Palestinian colleagues whose every day involves both the danger of operating in a war zone and the search for food and supplies for their families, then there might be greater accountability.
It is not sufficient to claim that the IDF operates “in accordance with our values, with our procedures and with international law”, which is what Lt Col Shoshani told Sky News.
That may suffice for Israeli audiences who see very little on their screens of the reality on the ground, but it is not enough for the rest of us – not after 61,000 deaths.
If the IDF has nothing to hide, it should allow international journalists in.
That would alleviate the burden of reporting on Palestinian journalists, at least 175 of whom have lost their lives since the war began.
It would also allow a degree more clarity on what is happening and who is to blame for the hell inside Gaza now.
Journalists demand access in Gaza
More than 100 journalists, photographers and war correspondents have signed a petition demanding “immediate and unsupervised foreign press access to the Gaza Strip”.
Signatories include Sky News’ special correspondent Alex Crawford.
They are renewing calls for both Israel and Hamas to allow foreign journalists into Gaza to report independently on the war, something they have been barred from doing since the start of the latest conflict in 2023.
The petition goes further to say if “belligerent parties” ignore the appeal, media professionals will be supported to enter Gaza without consent “by any legitimate means, independently, collectively, or in coordination with humanitarian or civil society actors”.
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2:23
Trump issues nuclear sub order
‘I didn’t hear a sound’
Mr Mimaki was three years old when the US dropped an atomic bomb on the city of Hiroshima.
It was the first time a nuclear weapon had been used in war, and it’s remembered as one of the most horrific events in the history of conflict.
It’s estimated to have killed over 70,000 people on the spot, one in every five residents, unleashing a ground heat of around 4,000C, melting everything in its path and flattening two thirds of the city.
Horrifying stories trickled out slowly, of blackened corpses and skin hanging off the victims like rags.
“What I remember is that day I was playing outside and there was a flash,” Mr Mimaki recalls.
“We were 17km away from the hypocentre. I didn’t hear a bang, I didn’t hear a sound, but I thought it was lightening.
“Then it was afternoon and people started coming out in droves. Some with their hair all in mess, clothes ragged, some wearing shoes, some not wearing shoes, and asking for water.”
Image: Toshiyuki Mimaki
‘The city was no longer there’
For four days, his father did not return home from work in the city centre. He describes with emotion the journey taken by his mother, with him and his younger bother in tow, to try to find him.
There was only so far in they could travel, the destruction was simply too great.
“My father came home on the fourth day,” he says.
“He was in the basement [at his place of work]. He was changing into his work clothes. That’s how he survived.
“When he came up to ground level, the city of Hiroshima was no longer there.”
‘People are still suffering’
Three days later, the US would drop another atomic bomb on the city of Nagasaki, bringing about an unconditional Japanese surrender and the end of the Second World War.
By the end of 1945, the death toll from both cities would have risen to an estimated 210,000 and to this day it is not known exactly how many lost their lives in the following years to cancers and other side effects.
“It’s still happening, even now. People are still suffering from radiation, they are in the hospital,” Mr Mimaki says.
“It’s very easy to get cancer, I might even get cancer, that’s what I’m worried about now.”
Image: This image shows the city in March 1946, six months after the atomic bomb was dropped on 6 August 1945. Pic: Reuters
Tragically, many caught up in the bomb lived with the stigma for most of their lives. Misunderstandings about the impact of radiation meant they were often shunned and rejected for jobs or as a partner in marriage.
Many therefore tried to hide their status as Hibakusha (a person affected by the atomic bombs) and now, in older age, are finding it hard to claim the financial support they are entitled to.
And then there is the enormous psychological scars, the PTSD and the lifelong mental health problems. Many Hibakusha chose to never talk about what they saw that day and live with the guilt that they survived.
For Mr Mimaki, it’s there when he recounts a story of how he and another young girl about his age became sick with what he now believes was radiation poisoning.
“She died, and I survived,” he says with a heavy sigh and strain in his eyes.
He has subsequently dedicated his life to advocacy, and is co-chair of a group of atomic bomb survivors called Nihon Hidankyo. Its members were awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 2024.
Image: The city is marking 80 years since the blast. Pic: Reuters
‘Why do humans like war so much?’
But he doesn’t dwell much on any pride he might feel. He knows it’s not long until the bomb fades from living memory, and he deeply fears what that might mean in a world that looks more turbulent now than it has in decades.
Indeed, despite advocacy like his, there are still around 12,000 nuclear warheads in the world in the hands of nine countries.
“In the future, you never know when they might use it. Russia-Ukraine, Israel-Gaza, Israel-Iran – there is always a war going on somewhere,” he says.
“Why do these animals called humans like war so much?
“We keep saying it, we keep telling them, but it’s not getting through, for 80 years no-one has listened.
“We are Hibakusha, my message is we must never create Hibakusha again.”