
In April, 1945, Hitler was becoming increasingly unhinged in his bunker. The war had been lost, but he was stubbornly trying to grasp a ray of hope.
That proved to be as futile as trying to grasp a ray of light. Yet until almost his last moments, Hitler kept repeating the same mantra, or rather two of them.
One was “Where is Wenck?” in reference to Gen. Walther Wenck whose Twelfth Army was trying in vain to break through the Allied encirclement to relieve Berlin’s garrison. The other was about the secret Wunderwaffe, a wonder-weapon that would arrive in time to save the day.
Originally the term was used in reference to the V-rockets expected to bring Britain to her knees. They didn’t, but in his last days Hitler was talking about something else. He hoped German scientists would beat Americans to the atomic punch, with mushroom clouds rising over the Allied troops.
That hope turned out to be forlorn, and since then the word Wunderwaffe has been used in German to describe an illusionary panacea. Donald Trump should look it up.
Flushed from his much-touted triumph of ending the war in the Middle East for ever, meaning for the next few months, Trump told the Knesset that now “we have to get Russia done”.
When Trump’s hot, he’s hot. But Putin’s bloody-mindedness regularly throws cold water over the Donald’s world-saving mission. At first, building on his experience of striking property development deals with shady characters, Trump thought that “great guy”, his friend Putin, would meet him halfway and agree to a peace deal Trump was trying to broker.
The deal seemed to be a no-brainer for the Russians. They’d have their ownership of the Crimea officially recognised. They’d get to keep all the Ukrainian territory they’ve occupied – and would also get the sweetener of some lands still in the Ukrainians’ hands. The Ukraine would undertake never to join NATO. And so on, stopping just short of the Ukraine being incorporated into Russia.
Yet Putin rejected the deal, beating Zelensky to it. Since then he has been giving his friend Donald the runaround and playing for time. You see, incorporating the Ukraine into Russia de facto, better still de jure, is precisely what Putin wants, the only kind of deal he’d accept.
That made Trump disappointed, and he said so. His whole lifetime career has been built on personal relationships based on mutual benefits or, that failing, coercion and threats. His personal relationship with his friend Vlad not getting him any closer to the Nobel Peace Prize, Trump decided it was time to talk tough.
If Putin continues to play silly buggers, Trump would arm Zelensky with Tomahawk cruise missiles, and see how Vlad would like that. The threat was expressed in Trump’s usual chatty manner:
“I might say, look, if this war’s not going to get settled, I’m going to send them Tomahawks,” he said on Sunday.
“I might have to speak to Russia, to be honest with you, about Tomahawks. Do they want to have Tomahawks going in their direction? I don’t think so… I might tell him [Putin] that if the war is not settled, that we may very well do it.”
I think that’s a good idea, as far as it goes: the more damage the Ukraine can do to Russia’s strategic infrastructure, the better. For purely sentimental, and therefore invalid, reasons I wouldn’t like to see the centre of my native city, Moscow, turned to rubble, and it’s easily within the Tomahawk range from the Ukraine.
Still, if that’s what the Ukrainian High Command wanted to do, I wouldn’t object: war leaves no room for sentiments. But suppose this isn’t an idle threat and, against his best judgement, Trump does deliver a couple of dozen Tomahawks to the Ukraine.
Would that swing the war in the Ukraine’s favour? Would the Tomahawks prove to be Zelensky’s Wunderwaffe? I don’t think so, for any number of reasons.
First, I don’t think Trump would deliver thousands or even hundreds of Tomahawks out of America’s total stockpile of some 9,000. Dozens would be more like it, but even if it’s hundreds, this weapon won’t win the war for Zelensky.
If you are unsure about that, put the boot on the other foot and ask yourself this question: “How come Russia hasn’t won the war yet?”
After all, the Russians have plenty of missiles that have the range to hit every square inch of Ukrainian territory, all the way west to Lvov, Uzhgorod and Mukachevo. And indeed, those places have suffered some damage, though nothing as drastic as the devastation of Mariupol, a city that lost 95 per cent of its buildings and 25,000 of its civilian inhabitants.
Yet the Ukrainian army is still fighting, still holding the aggressor at bay, still inflicting heavy casualties. (Just the other day, the Ukrainians wiped out a column of Russian armour, destroying 13 vehicles and killing dozens of soldiers.) And the Ukrainians are still united in their resolve to save their country’s sovereignty from Putin’s fascists.
Putin knows this, which is why he won’t be swayed by Trump’s threat. Even if Ukrainian Tomahawks hit Moscow, what does he care? Putin’s own bunker is impervious to such weapons.
Tomahawk missiles are about as likely to change the course of the war as the weapons that gave them their name would be. Putin will remain as deaf to Trump’s threats as he has been to Trump’s cajoling.
The only way the US can help the Ukraine is to state its full, unequivocal commitment to the Ukrainian cause – and to act accordingly. That would entail using full congressional appropriations for Ukrainian aid, rather than merely about a quarter of them actually used.
This is increasingly becoming a PlayStation war, with swarms of unmanned drones buzzing over the battlefields, factories and infrastructure facilities. The Ukraine more or less pioneered this remote-action warfare, and she has started and stepped up the mass production of various drones.
Russia has been playing catch-up there, and Iran’s Shahed drones, both imported and homemade, helped considerably. But still Russia lagged far behind – until recently, when she suddenly acquired a huge numerical superiority in drones, five to one in some sectors of the front.
This suggests that China has begun to provide direct aid to the Russian war effort, and stopping this assistance is something Trump could do. For example, he could act on his threat to slap 100 per cent tariffs on Chinese exports, which would serve a dual purpose.
First, it would stop the flow of Chinese aid to Russia. Second, it would enfeeble China economically, by effectively ending her trade with America and her allies. But there are tough choices to be made, and I doubt Trump, or any other Western leader, would be ready to make them.
Over the past several decades, Western prosperity has been built on a seemingly endless supply of cheap labour, mainly from China, but also from Vietnam, Malaysia and other countries in the region. Cutting that supply off would mean Westerners having to accept a greatly reduced standard of living – and still continuing to vote for the politicians responsible.
Here I’m always reminded of Jean-Claude Junker’s epigram, one of the best political adages in recent times: “We all know what to do. We just don’t know how to get re-elected after we’ve done it.”
Quite. The thing about hard political choices is that they are, well, hard to make.
It’s so much easier to wave simple solutions around, such as this or that Wunderwaffe. Such things may help, but they don’t win wars. Only courage and commitment do, and the Western arsenal of such weapons seems to have been depleted.








