The Ukrainian soldiers fired an American round from a French mortar at a common enemy.
They said the target was a storage site for Russian munitions close to the city of Bakhmut, in eastern Ukraine, where one of the fiercest battles of the war is intensifying.
A soldier, kneeling down, pulled a metal cord that triggered the MO-120 rifled towed mortar – a Cold War-era weapon with a new purpose.
It blasted the round into the cloudy sky and over snow-covered fields.
A third soldier stepped forward holding a second M1101 mortar round – shaped like a mini green rocket.
He dropped it down the barrel so the weapon could be fired again.
They launched three rounds in total before quickly moving to a more sheltered position – all too aware of the risk of Russian forces firing back.
An officer from the 2nd Battalion, 3rd Brigade, said his troops would win despite being pitched against much larger numbers of mercenaries as well as Russian soldiers along this frontline.
Situation ‘looks like the First or the Second World War’
Senior Lieutenant Yaroslav described how waves of Wagner mercenaries would be ordered to advance despite running directly into Ukrainian fire.
“When our fighters saw this, they were super surprised,” he said. “What is happening near Bakhmut looks like the First or the Second World War, with people [mercenaries] running forward, straight upright [rather than ducking low]… They have nothing to lose.”
At an artillery position a 15-minute drive from the mortar site, Sky News met troops keeping warm from the freezing temperatures in a makeshift bunker accessed via a short trench.
The men, seated on a line of wooden planks that framed the cramped, underground chamber, wore white-coloured waterproof tops and trousers over their combat gear to make them harder for the Russians to spot when they were outside in the snow.
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Biden talks ‘very fruitful’ – Zelenskyy
‘I’m feeling fury and I want to win in this war’
Two of them described how they only joined the military after Russian President Vladimir Putin launched his full-scale invasion almost exactly a year ago.
“I’m feeling fury and I want to win in this war,” said one of the servicemen, called Bohdan, who spoke in broken English.
Asked if he felt scared, he said: “No, I’m in my country. I save my country.”
A second soldier, Artem, said: “I joined this war in March. Then, I had energy and motivation, and the same now. Nothing’s changed.”
As for what the toughest part was about living in trenches, he joked: “Digging. It’s the hardest thing. You have to dig constantly. Dig and dig.”
Despite Ukraine focusing significant firepower on fending off attempts to seize Bakhmut, Russian forces do seem to be inching slowly forward after months of bloody clashes.
One sign of this advance can be felt in the nearby town of Chasiv Yar – which would be next in Moscow’s path should Bakhmut fall.
It has started to come under Russian shelling, prompting many residents to flee.
More than 10 people have been killed, according to the local mayor, Serhiy Chaus, who described the situation as “hard but stable”.
Asked if he was worried the Russians might capture the town, he said: “Who isn’t worried? Of course, we are worried, but as they say, ‘We believe in the Armed Forces of Ukraine’.”
Teams working to evacuate civilians from risk areas
The growing risk means evacuation teams are driving in and out every day to rescue those unable to leave by themselves because of age, poor health or a lack of transport.
We met one group of civilian volunteers – four young men who said they wanted to be useful despite the danger – about 10 miles further back in the city of Kostiantynivka, which has become a staging post for those seeking to push forward.
Donning body armour, helmets and tourniquets, they climbed into two minibuses – one purple, the other yellow – and set off with aid parcels and the names of prospective evacuees.
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‘We must ensure victory this year’
‘I am trying to be brave’
One of the men, 31-year-old Oleksiy Zabrodin, who used to run a small business selling briquettes before the war, said he felt a little bit scared “but I am trying to be brave”.
Speaking in English, he added: “I understand it is important for our people. It’s our country.”
The volunteers pulled up outside a culture centre in Chasiv Yar, which had been turned into a distribution point for aid. A small line of residents stood outside the front door, waiting to pick up basic supplies, such as pasta and bags of oats.
The team unloaded cardboard boxes of food and medicine before heading to the first evacuation address, taking just one of the minibuses.
‘We abandoned everything’
Wrapped in a bright red coat and orange headscarf, Nina, 73, was waiting at her bungalow on a narrow residential lane covered in snow.
She said her home had been shelled four times and she was scared for her life.
One of the volunteers took her by the hand and gently guided her into the vehicle, while others collected up some items she wanted to bring in a few bags.
Her daughter, Svitlana, sat with her mother to offer support as the minibus drove off.
Both women were crying.
“Don’t you know how people feel when they abandon everything that they worked hard towards for years?” the daughter sobbed.
Nina said: “We abandoned everything… The house is smashed.”
The volunteers worked as quickly as possible because of the risk of more shells landing.
A simple act of affection
They stopped at a second, tiny, single-storey house, where 83-year-old Maria and her husband lived.
She could not walk and seemed very confused.
The volunteers carefully carried her out on a stretcher, while her husband followed on foot – a few of their belongings also packaged up in bags.
Once in the minibus, the elderly man offered his wife a hand to clasp as she lay on the backseat – a simple act of affection to ease the disorientation.
Forced to leave
The final stop, before heading out of Chasiv Yar to relative safety, was back at the culture centre to pick up a few more residents wanting to flee.
Among those climbing on board the minibus was another woman called Svitlana, with her seven-year-old daughter, Maria, wearing a large, silver puffer jacket to fend off the cold.
“Life and the situation forced us to leave,” the mother said.
Asked how she was feeling, the young girl said: “Bad.”
As for what she wished for, she just said: “Peace.”
Russian air defences may have shot down an Azerbaijan Airlines flight after misidentifying it, according to US military sources.
Two unnamed officials who spoke to Sky News’ US partner NBC News said America had intelligence indicating Russia may have believed the flight was a drone and engaged its air defences.
It added that this was down, in part, due to the plane’s irregular flight pattern and altitude.
The report comes after US national security spokesperson John Kirby said on Friday that Washington had “seen some early indications that would certainly point to the possibility that this jet was brought down by Russian air defence systems”.
He refused to elaborate, citing an ongoing investigation.
The plane had been flying from Azerbaijan’s capital Baku to Grozny, the regional capital of the Russian republic of Chechnya, on Christmas Day.
During its flight, it turned toward Kazakhstan and later crashed around two miles from Aktau while making an attempt to land after flying east across the Caspian Sea.
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The crash killed 38 people and left all of the 29 survivors injured.
Azerbaijan’s transport minister Rashad Nabiyev told the country’s media that “preliminary conclusions by experts point at external impact” and witness testimony did as well.
He added: “The type of weapon used in the impact will be determined during the probe.”
Azerbaijan Airlines has since suspended flights to a number of Russian cities.
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Video shows inside plane before crash
A spokesperson for the Kremlin declined to comment on the crash, saying it would be up to investigators to determine the cause.
Dmitry Peskov said: “The air incident is being investigated, and we don’t believe we have the right to make any assessments until the conclusions are made as a result of the investigation.”
The crash was said to have taken place during a Ukrainian drone attack.
Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy blamed Russia in a post on social media.
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Passengers and crew who survived the crash told Azerbaijani media that they heard loud noises as the aircraft was circling over Grozny.
Aydan Rahimli, a flight attendant, said that after one noise oxygen masks were automatically released and she went to perform first aid on a colleague, Zulfugar Asadov, and then heard another bang.
Mr Asadov said the noises sounded like something hitting the plane from outside.
Shortly afterwards, he sustained a sudden injury like a “deep wound, the arm was lacerated as if someone hit me in the arm with an axe,” he said.
Two other survivors described their experiences on the flight.
Jerova Salihat told Azerbaijani television that “something exploded” near her leg and Vafa Shabanova said there had been “two explosions in the sky, and an hour and a half later the plane crashed to the ground.”
If proven the plane crashed after being hit by Russian air defences, it would be the second deadly aviation incident linked to the Kremlin’s conflict with Ukraine.
Just look at the Asachyovs. Vera and her husband Timofey have eight children – from 18-year-old Sofiya to 18-month-old Marusya – and they’ve just been crowned Moscow Family of the Year.
“It’s a great honour and joy,” Vera Asachyova told Sky News when asked how it felt to win.
“It brings pride to our family, not only my husband and I but for the children and their grandmothers and grandfathers.”
And that’s not their only award.
Having had so many children, they’ve also been honoured with the prestigious Order of Parental Glory, which Vera proudly wears pinned to her chest.
The family’s beaming faces are even on billboards around town.
They’re portrayed as the model family doing their patriotic duty.
That’s because Russia’s birth rate is at a quarter-of-a-century low and the state wants others to follow the Asachyovs’ lead.
Official data shows 599,600 children were born in Russia in the first half of 2024, which is 16,000 fewer than in the same period in 2023 and the lowest since 1999.
The Kremlin called the figure “catastrophic” and is desperate to boost it.
The latest attempt is a ban on “childfree propaganda”, which was passed unanimously by Russia’s lower house of parliament last month.
It’s supposedly the promotion of life without children, and anyone caught spreading it can now be fined.
But does this propaganda really exist? Even if it does, surely there are more pressing reasons why a woman might not want to have children?
For example the costs involved, or perhaps because their partner is away fighting in Ukraine, or worse, has been killed there.
I put that to Tatiana Butskaya, an MP for Russia’s ruling party, United Russia, who sits on the parliamentary committee for Family Protection.
“This is an ideology against life on earth,” she replied, referring to the so-called propaganda.
“If [our parents] had adhered to this ideology, none of us would be at this press conference today. Perhaps it would’ve been other people here, and maybe even robots.”
Vladimir Putin has previously encouraged women to have at least three children, to secure Russia’s future.
In the same vein, Ms Butskaya went on to criticise families with only one child, calling them “strange”.
“If this family has lived together for a long time, you think, ‘Well, maybe they have illnesses? Maybe something is wrong in the family’. Right?
“They’ve lived together for 30 years and only given birth to only one child. There’s something wrong there.”
According to the authorities, childfree propaganda is everywhere – in films, on the internet and throughout the media. But that’s not how it feels walking around Moscow.
Pretty much everywhere you look there are huge billboards promoting family and motherhood. The message on one reads “we have room to grow” in Russian.
Russia insists women still have the right not to have children, but feminist activists like Zalina Marshenkulova believe that’s no longer true.
The prominent blogger left Russia soon after the full-scale invasion of Ukraine and was charged in absentia with “justifying terrorism” by a Russian court earlier this year.
“It’s reproductive violence,” she told Sky News, referring to the ban on childfree propaganda. “It’s another repressive law they needed to turn all women into mechanisms for reproducing slaves.
“If you’re smart, if you love freedom, if you respect yourself, you can’t live in Russia. That’s what they try to say to us by this stupid law.”
Weavers of Ireland’s famous Donegal tweed have called for a special protected status for their product, as the craft industry battles a raft of cheaper imitations branding themselves as “Donegals”.
Urgent efforts are under way to take advantage of a change in EU policy, which could see non-food and drink products receive the same protected designation as champagne or parma ham.
Currently, a textile manufacturer anywhere in the world can produce fabric and call it Donegal tweed, often vastly undercutting the genuine producers.
“It’s not great,” says Kieran Molloy, a sixth-generation weaver at Molloy & Sons.
He says the unrestricted use of the term Donegal “is making people think it’s a craft product, when in fact maybe it’s coming from an enormous mill in the UK or in China or Italy”.
“When people maybe think of Donegal, and they’re thinking of mountains and sheep and the craft, a lot of the time that’s not what they’re getting.”
Donegal tweed is a woollen fabric with neps – or flecks – of distinctive colours spun into the yarn as its main characteristic.
The industry hopes to be awarded a Protected Geographical Indication (PGI) following a 2022 decision by the European Commission to widen the categories of goods that could be protected. This would mean only fabric produced in Co Donegal could be described as a Donegal tweed.
Patrick Temple is CEO of Donegal’s largest tweed producer, Magee Weaving, and also chair of the Donegal Tweed Association.
He says the glut of foreign imposters “does detract from the business,” adding: “It also creates a mixed message for the consumer.
“The wonderful thing about a PGI, if we’re lucky enough to obtain it, is that it creates a pure message to the consumer and they know they’re buying a genuine fabric woven in Donegal.”
Magee has celebrity fans like Sex And The City actor Sarah Jessica Parker, a regular visitor to Co Donegal.
In some ways, the tweed is a victim of its own popularity, which means larger international brands can put reproductions on the market for far lower prices than the Donegal producers.
Marks & Spencer has a range of men’s wool clothing marketed with the word “Donegal”, which features small flecks of colour.
A blazer, with the fabric woven in England and constructed in Cambodia, retails for €205 in Ireland, less than half the price of many of Magee’s authentic Donegal tweed blazers.
Mr Temple examined the M&S jacket for Sky News. “It’s a pleasant blazer, in a natural wool,” he says.
“It’s emulating, trying to be a Donegal. But unfortunately, it’s not woven in Donegal, there’s a small fleck there but we can’t call it a Donegal tweed.”
“It undercuts our position in the region of Donegal, as the genuine weavers of Donegal tweed,” he adds.
Marks & Spencer stops short of describing its clothing as “Donegal tweed”, and does not claim the fabric is made in Ireland, but did not respond to repeated requests for comment.
The Donegal weavers have enlisted the expertise of colleagues in Scotland, where the famous Harris tweed has enjoyed protection from an act of parliament passed in 1993.
The legislation means that only wool handwoven on the Outer Hebrides can be described as Harris tweed within the UK.
Lorna Macaulay, the outgoing CEO of the Harris Tweed Authority, has held several meetings with the Donegal weavers, and says the geographic protection is vital.
Without the “absolutely pivotal” 1993 law, she says “we have no doubt that this [Harris tweed] industry would not have survived… it simply couldn’t have”.
“The protection it has brought has forever secured the definition of Harris tweed.”
Ms Macaulay says an appreciation of the shared culture has led to close cooperation between the weavers in Scotland and Ireland.
“When the Donegal people approached us, we didn’t consider ourselves as rivals or competitors, and in fact a really strong handwoven sector lifts all boats. There is a real will to work together,” she adds.
The Donegal weavers hope the Scottish input will strengthen their campaign. They want the incoming Irish government to help press Brussels for the coveted protected status.
It could take 12 to 18 months, admits Mr Temple, “but it’s really gaining momentum, and we hope it’ll be sooner rather than later”.