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COMMENTARY / POKROVSK OFFENSIVE Rachel Maddow on war in Ukraine Deep Current Report: 170k Russian Soldiers Trapped In Pokrovsk Nightmare PLAY YOUTUBE VIDEO Original article: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8CQVcpaMSYI
170k Russian Soldiers Trapped In Pokrovsk Nightmare \| Rachel Maddow Deep Current Report 1.8K subscribers Nov 10, 2025 #Pokrovsk #UkraineWar #RussiaUkraineWar This is not propaganda. It’s a reality we’re all living inside of — one that’s quietly exposing the limits of power, control, and fear. Tonight, we uncover the truth behind Russia’s greatest military disaster since the fall of the Soviet Union. The Pokrovsk Offensive — once called “the decisive strike” — has turned into a graveyard of men and machines. Over 170,000 Russian soldiers trapped across frozen fields. No food. No fuel. No way out. What was meant to prove Russia’s strength has instead revealed its collapse — a system devoured by its own lies, where soldiers fight confusion instead of enemies, and families back home face a silence that speaks louder than any speech. This isn’t about maps or numbers. It’s about what happens when a regime built on fear finally loses control of its own war. By the end of this story, you’ll understand why Pokrovsk isn’t just a battlefield… it’s a mirror. One that reflects the fall of a myth — and the beginning of a reckoning. 🔗 Stay Informed. 🔔 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐃𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝. 👉 / @deepcurrentreport ================================= 🎬 Suggested for You: ▶️ Moscow Blackout Horror 20,000 Trapped Underground \| Rachel Maddow • Moscow Blackout Horror 20,000 Trapped Unde... ▶️ Moscow in Flames! The Flamingo Strike Putin Never Saw Coming \| Rachel Maddow • Moscow in Flames! The Flamingo Strike Puti... ▶️ Lithuania Just Triggered Moscow’s $50B Trade Meltdown! \| Rachel Maddow • Lithuania Just Triggered Moscow’s $50B Tra... ================================= ✅ About Deep Current Report Welcome to Deep Current Report, where journalism meets depth. Through long-form analysis, verified intelligence, and cinematic storytelling, we expose the hidden dynamics behind global power shifts — from battlefields to boardrooms. Each episode connects geopolitics to human reality, revealing how technology, misinformation, and power shape the world we live in. Inspired by the analytical voice of Rachel Maddow, our documentaries aim to make sense of chaos — one story at a time. 🔔 Subscribe for weekly reports that uncover the truth behind modern conflicts, political deception, and the evolution of power. 👉 / @deepcurrentreport ================================= ⚠️ Disclaimer: This channel is an independent journalistic project and is not affiliated with any government or media organization. Our content is based on open-source intelligence, verified reports, and historical context — presented for educational and analytical purposes. Each episode is narrated in a documentary style inspired by Rachel Maddow’s investigative approach: connecting verified facts to larger truths about democracy, war, and power. #Pokrovsk #UkraineWar #RussiaUkraineWar #PokrovskOffensive #UkraineCounterattack #RussiaMilitary #WarAnalysis #Geopolitics #InvestigativeJournalism #ModernWarfare #OSINT #DeepCurrentReport #RachelMaddowStyle #UkraineWar2025 #MilitaryCollapse #RussiaCrisis #WarDocumentary #PoliticalAnalysis #BreakingNews #UkraineFrontline How this content was made Altered or synthetic content Sound or visuals were significantly edited or digitally generated. Learn more Peter Burgess COMMENTARY Peter Burgess Transcript 0:00 Good evening. Tonight, what we are witnessing out of Eastern Ukraine is something even the Kremlin's propaganda machine can no longer hide. A military collapse on a scale Russia hasn't seen in decades. The so-called Pocrs offensive, the operation Moscow once hailed as the strike that would finally break through Ukraine's defenses, has turned into a slow motion catastrophe. This was supposed to be the moment Russia reclaimed momentum, the turning point. Instead, it's become a case study in how overconfidence, poor intelligence, and sheer denial can destroy an army from within. Let's start with what's actually happening on the ground. Over the past several weeks, Russian forces launched what they called a decisive push across the Pocrs sector, a strategic region that on paper looked like an easy win. They began with massive artillery barges, waves of drone strikes, and columns of armor stretching for miles. State media in Moscow described it at the dawn of a new phase in the war. A liberation operation they 1:01 said meant to secure victory in a matter of days. But within hours that illusion shattered. Ukrainian commanders who had been quietly studying Russian movements for months saw the pattern coming. They predicted the roots, the timing, even the weather conditions. By the time Russia's tanks started moving, the Ukrainians were already waiting, dug in, coordinated, and ready to strike. Satellite images tell the story. Miles of armored convoys jammed along narrow roads. No air cover, no protection, and Ukrainian drones circling above like hawks. Precision artillery followed. Not random shelling, but surgical strikes. One hit a command vehicle, cutting communications for an entire brigade. Another destroyed a key bridge that served as their only supply route. Fuel trucks burned, columns froze in place, and the operation, this massive show of power, began collapsing almost immediately. Inside those columns, chaos 2:00 took hold. Orders contradicted each other. Units were told to advance and then to fall back. Some were simply left behind. By the end of the first week, what was meant to be a coordinated offensive had devolved into a desperate fight for survival. Now, here's the part the Kremlin didn't want you to hear. leaked messages from soldiers trapped in that zone started surfacing online voice notes, text fragments, videos recorded in the dark. One of them said, 'They told us Pakovsk would fall in 2 days. It's been 3 weeks. No food, no fuel, no way out.' That message spread across Russian social media faster than sensors could delete it. And that's when it became clear this wasn't just a battlefield loss. It was a collapse of command, a breakdown of trust between Moscow and the very men it sent to fight. Families of those soldiers, mothers, wives, sons began posting their own please. Where are they? Why aren't we hearing anything? And even within 3:03 Russia's state-run channels, the silence became impossible to maintain. The Prosk disaster, as analysts are now calling it, has left tens of thousands of Russian troops cut off and encircled, stranded without supplies, without communication, and in many cases without hope. Western intelligence estimates more than 170,000 troops are trapped across miles of scorched terrain. That number, 170,000, is staggering. If confirmed, it would mark one of the largest single losses in modern warfare. But beyond the numbers, what this really exposes is the hollow core of Russia's military system. A system that looks powerful from the outside, the tanks, the missiles, the parades, but inside it's brittle, bureaucratic, and disconnected from reality. Let's pause on that because this isn't just about one failed operation. It's about the myth of Russian invincibility. The myth that for decades kept entire regions of the world cautious, even fearful. And 4:04 now that myth is burning in the mud outside Papovsk. For Ukraine, the story is the opposite. This is what a modern adaptive army looks like. Small units communicating in real time, coordinating artillery and drones through encrypted networks, making instant decisions without waiting for orders from a distant capital. Russia still fights wars like it's 1,980. Ukraine fights like it's 20025. And that difference, that gap between the past and the present is what's now rewriting the map of this war. The truth is the Pocrsk offensive was never just a military operation. It was a political gamble designed to prove that Vladimir Putin's army could still deliver a victory after months of stalemate. Instead, it's revealed something the Kremlin has spent years trying to hide. That fear can hold a country together for only so long until reality breaks through. Tonight, the fields around Prosk are littered with the remains of that illusion. Burned out vehicles, 5:06 abandoned trenches, shattered radios, and soldiers who no longer know who's in command. This isn't the story Moscow planned to tell, but it's the story the world is now watching unfold in real time. And as that collapse continues, one question hangs over everything. If Russia's power was built on the image of control, what happens when control itself is gone? So, here's where things stand tonight. The Picavsk front, that narrow stretch of eastern Ukraine that Moscow once bragged would be liberated in 72 hours, has now become what Ukrainian soldiers are calling the valley of no return. Satellite footage verified by multiple Western intelligence agencies shows entire Russian battalions trapped across a frozen wasteland, tanks half buried in mud, supply trucks abandoned, and what appears to be thousands of soldiers cut off from any possible escape. It's not a 6:00 front line anymore. It's a graveyard. Let's be clear, this isn't an exaggeration from Keev. Even Russian military bloggers, usually loyal to the Kremlin, are calling it a disaster. They describe units that have lost all communication, commanders missing, and soldiers running out of food, ammunition, and fuel. One intercepted message confirmed by open- source analysts captures it perfectly. They told us to hold the line, but there is no line left. That single sentence whispered through static tells you everything you need to know about what's happening inside the trap. For many of these men, there are no reinforcements coming. Every access road into Prosk has been destroyed by precision strikes. Every bridge has been hit. Even medical evacuation routes are gone. Ukrainian drones hover constantly overhead, turning every movement, every flicker of heat into a target. And here's what makes it worse. The encirclement isn't happening quickly. It's slow. It's suffocating. A grinding collapse that's 7:01 stretching out hour by hour, day by day, as temperatures drop and morale evaporates. Soldiers have started recording goodbye messages on smuggled phones. Shaky low-light videos sent to families who may never hear from them again. Some talk about starvation. Others whisper prayers. A few just stare silently into the camera, too exhausted to speak. One clip that spread briefly online before being deleted by Russian sensors showed a young conscript saying, 'We're told to wait, but no one is coming. We can hear them. the drones, the shells all night. We just wait. You can't listen to that and still pretend this is just another strategic setback. It's a humanitarian and psychological collapse. Now, on the Russian side of the border, the silence is deafening. Families of those soldiers have been waiting weeks. No lists, no updates, not even a denial. Regional offices have stopped publishing casualty numbers altogether. And that silence in a country that tries to control every 8:04 narrative has become its own kind of rebellion. Mothers are gathering online, trading bits of information coordinates, intercepted radio calls, screenshots. They're piecing together what the government refuses to admit, that their sons have been left behind. Even state-run outlets, usually synchronized to the Kremlin's talking points, are starting to fracture. One well-known war correspondent, usually a mouthpiece for the Ministry of Defense, broke ranks this week. He posted a single sentence on Telegram before his account was deleted, 'We have abandoned our own.' That post circulated for only 19 minutes, but in those 19 minutes, it was shared more than 200,000 times. Meanwhile, on the battlefield, the desperation is turning violent. Reports from the front describe Russian artillery mistakenly shelling its own trapped units, either out of confusion or indifference. There are accounts still being verified of soldiers waving white flags, trying to surrender, only 9:03 to be caught in friendly fire as their own guns continued to fire blindly into the fog. This isn't discipline breaking down. This is the breakdown. Inside the Russian command structure, panic has replaced planning. Commanders in the field are pleading for permission to retreat, but those orders never come. Why? Because admitting failure in Russia's hierarchy can be more dangerous than losing a battle. Generals would rather sacrifice troops than their own careers. And in Pocrs, that calculation is killing thousands. The tragedy here is that it's not just military incompetence. It's systemic cruelty. A war machine designed to protect reputations, not lives. You can see that cruelty in the footage trickling out. Frozen bodies along the roadsides. Burnt out armored carriers used as makeshift shelters. Soldiers digging into the earth with bare hands to escape drone fire. This is what modern war looks like 10:00 when leadership collapses. Not chaos from the outside, but rot from the inside. Let's stop for a second on the scale of this. Because numbers like 170,000 troops trapped can sound abstract, but that's roughly the population of a small city. Imagine an entire city armed, starving, isolated, left behind in a field of fire. And now imagine the government that sent them there pretending they don't exist. That's where Russia is tonight. For Ukraine, Pocrska has become a symbol not of revenge, but of resilience. Every successful strike, every intercepted command, every mile reclaimed is proof that discipline and intelligence can overcome brute force. It's the difference between an army fighting to defend its land and one fighting to defend a lie. And for the Kremlin, this is something far worse than defeat. It's exposure. Because when soldiers start questioning why they were sent, when families start asking where their sons are, when the silence at home becomes louder than the war itself, that's when control begins to slip. Tonight, the 11:06 Pocrsk offensive, the operation that was supposed to prove Russia's strength, stands as the loudest proof yet of its weakness. Not just on the battlefield, but at its core. So, let's talk about how this happened. Because the collapse at Pocrs, this massive implosion of Russian military strength, didn't come out of nowhere. It was the result of something that Ukraine has been perfecting quietly, patiently, and very deliberately for months. The art of outthinking an empire. From the very start, Ukrainian commanders knew that Russia would eventually try to make a dramatic move in the east. They watched, they listened, and they waited. intercepted communications, satellite imagery, drone reconnaissance. Every piece of intelligence was feeding into one plan. A plan not to resist the Russian advance headon, but to absorb it, redirect it, and destroy it. When the so-called Pocrs offensive began, 12:02 Ukraine didn't react with panic. They reacted with precision. Instead of meeting the full force of that assault, they opened corridors, deliberate weak points that invited Russia's armored columns to move deeper into what thought was undefended ground. It wasn't. It was a trap. Behind those corridors were layers of defense, camouflaged artillery, mobile drone teams, and forward observers working in real time. As the Russian advance stretched thinner, Ukrainian forces closed in from both flanks. And then in one coordinated strike they collapsed the entire formation. That's what the world saw last week. Not an accident, not luck, but strategy. Ukraine had created what military historians are already calling a perfect encirclement. Let's be clear about what makes that so extraordinary. Ukraine isn't fighting with the biggest army. It doesn't have the largest stockpile of weapons. But what it has and what Russia has lost is agility. a 21st century understanding of warfare that fuses intelligence, mobility, and 13:04 information. In Pocrs, that meant using every technological advantage at their disposal. Drones that could hover silently for hours, mapping Russian movements in real time, encrypted communication networks linking small mobile units across miles of terrain, algorithms that analyzed enemy radio chatter and predicted their next move within minutes. This is what modern war looks like. Not just soldiers and tanks, but data, precision, and timing. And when Ukraine finally pulled the trigger, they did it with surgical coordination. Artillery strikes hit command vehicles first, cutting communications, then fuel depots, then bridges. By the time the Russian front realized what was happening, it was too late. Their tanks were stranded, their convoys immobilized, their soldiers surrounded. Western intelligence officers who have been monitoring this operation compare it to a chess match, except one side was 14:01 playing chess while the other was still swinging a hammer. Russia's doctrine of brute force flood the field. Overwhelm the enemy, met Ukraine's doctrine of adaptability. Hit fast, vanish, then hit again. And here's the detail that military analysts keep emphasizing. Ukraine's strategy didn't just destroy a formation. It destroyed an illusion. For decades, the Russian army was seen as the master of large-scale offensives. Prosk revealed that those offensives no longer work in the modern age. The footage coming out of the battlefield tells the story in brutal clarity. Russian convoys burning in open fields. Soldiers fleeing through frozen ditches as drones hover above them. Abandoned artillery pieces still pointed at empty sky. It's not just defeat, it's disintegration. And in Kev tonight, you can feel the shift. For the first time in months, Ukrainian commanders are speaking with open confidence. One officer described the counter strike simply as our message to Moscow. Not vengeance, but proof. Proof that 15:01 intelligence, preparation, and patience can overcome even the largest army on Earth. You can also see that confidence in how Ukraine is communicating with its own people. President Zalinski's nightly address wasn't filled with triumphalism. It was calm, deliberate, almost understated. Because the victory at Pocrs isn't just about territory. It's about validation. Validation that the long months of training, discipline, and Western support have paid off. And that brings us to another point. The role of technology and partnership, Western satellites, targeting systems, and intelligence coordination all played a crucial part in this operation. But make no mistake, this was Ukraine's plan. their execution, their success. They've learned to blend NATO style command structures with the gritty improvisation that only comes from fighting for survival. That combination, the fusion of discipline and chaos is what made Pakovsk possible. And on the other side, Russia has revealed the exact opposite, a system that cannot adapt. Its generals 16:02 fight today's wars using yesterday's manuals. Its communication networks fail at the first sign of disruption. Its soldiers are trained to obey, not to think. And when orders stop coming, everything falls apart. That's why Pacovsk isn't just a military defeat. It's a diagnostic test. It shows in real time how a once-feared war machine collapses when its myths collide with reality. One NATO analyst put it bluntly this week. Prosk is what happens when propaganda meets physics. Meaning, no matter how strong your message, the laws of strategy still apply. and Russia just broke every one of them. What makes this moment so defining is the contrast. On one side, an army built on fear, hierarchy, and denial. On the other, an army built on trust, adaptability, and truth. That's the dividing line between failure and resilience. And as the smoke settles over Pocrs tonight, you can almost feel that shift echoing far 17:02 beyond the battlefield. It's not just about who holds the ground. It's about who understands the future. Ukraine didn't just survive this phase of the war. It redefined it. And somewhere inside that frozen ring of fire and steel, between the burnt convoys and the silent radios, lies a truth that's now impossible to ignore. The age of underestimating Ukraine is over. So, let's turn to what's happening inside Russia tonight. Because while the battlefield in Pakrok is collapsing in plain sight, there's another collapse happening quietly behind closed doors inside the command structure that was supposed to control it all. And the word that keeps coming up from every source, from intercepted communications to insider leaks, is the same one. Chaos. This is what it looks like when the chain of command breaks. Orders contradict each other. Generals vanish from the radar. Entire divisions go silent. Not because they're defeated, but because no one knows who's in charge anymore. Reports from Western 18:01 intelligence suggest that the Russian command in the east, already fragile, completely imploded once Ukrainian strikes severed communication lines. Frontline units began radioing for orders, only to get silence. Others received conflicting instructions, advance, retreat, hold. Sometimes all within the same hour. One captured officer put it bluntly in interrogation. We weren't fighting Ukraine at that point. We were fighting confusion. That's not propaganda. That's the voice of a system that's lost control of itself. Let's remember this is the same military that for decades built its reputation on discipline and hierarchy. But when the structure depends entirely on fear, on obedience, it can't survive uncertainty. When those at the top are too afraid to admit mistakes, no one below dares to correct them. That's not strength. That's paralysis. Inside Moscow, you can feel that paralysis spreading. Intelligence officers are blaming field commanders. Field commanders are blaming logistics. The 19:03 Ministry of Defense insists the numbers are exaggerated. And the generals, those who haven't been quietly reassigned or disappeared, are busy rewriting reports before they ever reach Putin's desk. It's the classic Russian pattern. Conceal the scale of disaster until the disaster becomes too big to hide. You can even see it in the way the Kremlin controlled media is handling this. For the first time since the start of the invasion, the tone on state TV has shifted. Gone are the confident declarations of victory. In their place, vague phrases like a tactical redeployment, a pause for regrouping. Phrases that in Russia's political language mean only one thing. Something has gone very, very wrong. And it's not just journalists noticing. Within the Russian military blogging community, those hardline pro-war commentators who usually echo the government's line, there's open rebellion. Some are calling Pocrs the new Kerone. Others are demanding investigations. And a few more daring ones are pointing fingers directly at the top. That's 20:04 unprecedented because in Putin's Russia, the chain of command doesn't tolerate criticism, especially not public criticism. But the failures are never too visible to silence. Even loyalists can see the writing on the wall. Intercepted reports describe a command structure at war with itself. Mercenary remnants blaming the Ministry of Defense. Regular army units refusing to coordinate with regional militias. Local officers improvising just to survive. And at the center of it all, a vacuum. No clear leadership, no coherent plan, and no honest accounting of what's happening. Think about that for a moment. One of the world's largest militaries, nuclear armed, lavishly funded, and obsessed with control, reduced to chaos by its own bureaucracy. That's not just a tactical problem. That's an existential one. You can trace the cause straight back to the top. Because this kind of collapse doesn't happen by accident. It happens when power is built on fear, and fear kills 21:03 initiative. No one dares to report bad news. No one dares to suggest a retreat. And so by the time the truth reaches the Kremlin, it's already too late to fix. This week, there were reports of multiple senior officers being quietly removed, not for corruption, not for insubordination, but for misrepresentation of battlefield conditions. Translation: They told the truth. Meanwhile, desertions are rising. Recruitment has slowed. Young men are refusing conscription even under threat of prison. They've seen what happens to those sent to PCRs and they're not willing to be the next nameless statistic. Inside the Kremlin, frustration is boiling. The Ministry of Defense is conducting what it calls internal reviews while intelligence services are drafting memos warning about public unrest. And yet, the official message remains the same. 22:00 Everything is under control. But it's not. And Putin knows it. He hasn't directly addressed the losses at Pocrs, not once, not even a statement. And when a leader refuses to name a disaster, that tells you everything you need to know. It's not denial. It's avoidance. A calculated silence meant to protect one man's image at the expense of thousands of others. Behind that silence, his inner circle is fracturing. Some advisers are urging him to escalate to prove strength through more violence. Others warned that the army can't sustain another push. And caught between those factions is a president whose entire political identity depends on projecting control, even as control slips away. What's happening inside the Kremlin right now isn't just damage control. It's triage. They're trying to contain a military disaster before it becomes a political one. But the truth is, it already has. Every rumor of dismissed generals, every leaked message from the front, every missing soldier's mother demanding answers, it all feeds one growing perception that the system 23:02 itself is breaking down. That the war meant to prove Russia's greatness has instead exposed its decay. You can feel that realization spreading not just among soldiers, but among citizens, bureaucrats, even loyal party members. They're starting to ask the question that autocracies fear most. If everything is under control, why does it look like nothing is? So, if the battlefield is collapsing and the command structure is in chaos, then the next question is inevitable. What's happening inside Russia itself? Because tonight, the political aftershocks of Pocrs are shaking Moscow in ways that even the Kremlin's most seasoned spin doctors can't contain. Let's start with the silence. For three weeks, the Russian government has refused to issue any official casualty numbers from Pakovsk. Regional governors have been told explicitly, 'Do not publish lists.' And in a country where every headline is scripted, every broadcast choreographed, that silence isn't just unusual, it's 24:03 dangerous. Because silence in politics is never neutral. It's an admission, a confession without words. Across Russia, families are waiting. Mothers, wives, sons standing in line outside regional offices clutching photographs of the missing. No answers, no updates, just whispers that their loved ones were part of the Picrosoft group. And everyone knows what that means. Online, those families have started forming their own networks, encrypted chat groups, Telegram channels, databases of the disappeared. They are doing what their government will not, counting the dead. And every new name added to those lists chips away at the myth that Russia still controls this war. Even loyal lawmakers inside the Duma are starting to feel the tension. They can sense the shift in their districts. Towns where funerals are multiplying, where once patriotic rallies are being replaced by quiet anger. These aren't activists. They're ordinary Russians. People who once believed the narrative and now just want to know why their sons aren't coming home. The Kremlin's response has been 25:04 predictably blunt. Suppression. Regional administrators have been ordered to redirect public emotion to promote stories of heroism, victory, anything but loss. Television anchors now talk about strategic repositioning and temporary setbacks. But the footage leaking out of Pacovsk tells another story. And in 2025, you can't erase a war that's being recorded from space. That's the problem with modern warfare. You can't censor satellite images. You can't delete grief. And you can't spin away 170,000 missing soldiers. Inside the halls of power, panic is setting in. Oligarchs, the financial lifeblood of Putin's regime, are growing restless. Their fortunes depend on stability, and stability is evaporating. Many of them have already moved assets abroad, quietly distancing themselves from a system they no longer believe in. For two decades, Putin's aura of control 26:00 kept them obedient. Picrosk has cracked that illusion. You can hear it in the whispers inside Moscow's elite circles. How long can this go on? How much longer until someone takes the fall? That's not treason. That's survival instinct. And when that instinct spreads among the powerful, autocracies start to tremble. Even inside the Kremlin, there are divisions. Some advisers want to double down, escalate militarily, strike harder, show force. Others quietly argue for negotiation, though they never use the word retreat. It's a dangerous split, one that Putin himself seems unable to manage. He's built his entire leadership on the illusion of unity, the image of a man in total control. But Pokovsk has made that image impossible to sustain. He can't address it without admitting failure. He can't ignore it without looking weak. So he's chosen the only path left, silence. That silence, though, has a sound. It echoes through 27:00 every briefing, every news segment, every whisper among bureaucrats who used to believe in invincibility. And when belief fades in a system built on fear, the cracks spread fast. Even state television, the crown jewel of Putin's information machine is starting to show seams. Hosts stumble over their scripts. Segments are cut mid broadcast. And in one rare moment this week, a veteran presenter paused mid-sentence, looked directly into the camera, and said, 'Our boys deserve answers.' Then the feed cut out. It lasted 5 seconds. But in a country like Russia, 5 seconds of truth on state TV might as well be an earthquake. Internationally, the ripple effects are just as profound. Allies that once tolerated Moscow's aggression are now quietly stepping back. China and India once pragmatic partners have begun hedging their support, issuing statements about regional stability instead of strategic partnership. European governments, meanwhile, see Pocrs as proof that sustained aid to 28:04 Ukraine works. They're doubling down, not backing off. Inside NATO, Pocrs has become a case study, the textbook example of how intelligence, precision, and cooperation can dismantle an army twice your size. They're calling it the Pocrs doctrine, proof that adaptability beats scale. That's what the generals are saying in Brussels tonight. And for Russia, that might be the most humiliating part of all. Because this wasn't just a military failure. It was a global unveiling. A moment when the world saw through the myth of Russian dominance and saw instead what's underneath, a brittle, aging empire held together by fear and propaganda. Every great power tries to control its story, but Pocrs is a story that writes itself in fire, in silence, and in the faces of those left behind. So where does that leave Vladimir Putin? Right now, standing exactly where every autocrat eventually finds himself, surrounded not 29:01 by allies, but by ghosts. The ghosts of soldiers he sent to die. The ghosts of truths he refused to hear, and the ghosts of a power he can no longer command. So after everything we've seen tonight, the collapse on the battlefield, the chaos in command, the silence inside the Kremlin, the question becomes, what does Pocrs mean for the world? Because this isn't just another chapter in a long war. It's a turning point, one that's already rewriting the global balance of power. For decades, Russia's influence rested not just on its weapons, but on its reputation. The image of a state that could project power anywhere, any time. That image is gone. And in its place, what the world now sees is something else. A country still armed, still dangerous, but exposed, brittle, reactive, and deeply unsure of itself. In diplomatic circles tonight, that realization is spreading fast. Across Europe, foreign ministers are describing Pocrs as the end of Russian inevitability, meaning the end of the assumption that Russia always wins in the long run. It's not just a 30:05 loss, it's a revelation. in Washington, in Berlin, in London. Analysts are calling this a strategic collapse with moral consequences. Because Picros didn't just fail as a military operation, it failed as an idea. The idea that fear could hold the system together forever. You can see that shift everywhere you look. In capitals that once hesitated to criticize Moscow, now speaking out with confidence. In smaller nations that once stayed neutral, now aligning openly with Kev. In global institutions that once worried about escalation, now realizing that standing firm is not escalation, it's deterrence. That's the ripple effect of truth breaking through propaganda. Once it happens, you can't reverse it. Inside Russia, that truth is spreading too quietly in whispers, in fragments of leaked messages and unmarked graves. No one can say it out loud. Not yet. But they know. They know something fundamental has changed because Pacovsk 31:03 isn't just a place on a map anymore. It's become a symbol, a word that now carries the weight of failure, arrogance, and the cost of denial. A word that will haunt Russian politics for years to come. And for Vladimir Putin, it's personal. The man who built his legacy on control has lost control of the one thing he prized most, the story. He can still censor, still threaten, still punish, but he can't command belief. And once a ruler loses belief, the rest is only a matter of time. Let's take a step back and look at the bigger picture. What happened at Picovsk is not just about Russia and Ukraine. It's about the evolution of warfare itself. The shift from mass to precision, from secrecy to transparency, from propaganda to data. Ukraine fought this battle not with size, but with information, with speed, with intelligence. It proved that adaptation, not intimidation, defines strength. in the modern era. That lesson is being 32:00 studied tonight in every defense ministry in the world. From NATO to Beijing to Tehran, everyone is watching because Picrosoft has quietly redrawn the rules. It showed that the future belongs to those who learn faster, who tell the truth sooner, who can move without waiting for orders from men sitting miles away. For the Ukrainian people, that victory comes at a cost. Unimaginable loss, endless rebuilding, a fight that isn't over. But it also comes with something priceless. Proof that courage, clarity, and collective purpose can hold against fear. For Russia, the cost is something deeper. It's the erosion of a myth. The myth that power means permanence. It never has. And history once again has reminded the world that no regime built on lies stays unbroken forever. The imagery from Pocross, those long lines of burned armor, the frozen fields, the silent soldiers will join the archive of history's warnings. Stalenrad, Kbble, Grony, Pocross. Moments where the great 33:03 machine of empire met the limits of truth and collapsed. And maybe maybe that's the only good thing to come from this disaster. A reminder to the world that arrogance is the beginning of decline. and that no nation, no matter how powerful, can outlast the reality it refuses to see. So tonight, as the fires still burn over Pukovsk and the world begins to grasp the scale of what's happened, the question is no longer who won this battle. The question is what kind of world begins after it? Because when history turns, when an empire falters, the rest of us have a choice, to learn from it or to repeat it. This is Rachel Maddo. Thanks for being with us tonight. And as always, remember, history doesn't repeat itself. It reveals those who weren't paying attention.

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