Trump Deleted the Post—Then Resurrected It. But the Putin Protection Plan Is Already in Motion.

Trump’s reverence for Putin wasn’t the main event. The real story is Europe’s financial muscle, artillery factories, and a Starlink deal that Musk can’t walk away from.

When I posted Donald Trump’s social media message yesterday—the one where he expressed quiet reverence for Putin and effectively gave him the green light to retaliate for Ukraine’s Operation Spiderweb—my readers were unanimous.

Donald Trump didn’t write it.

I missed it at first. Too busy reading between the lines, behind the lines—so much so that I missed the forest staring straight at me. But my readers caught it instantly. The post was way too clean. Too polished. Not his voice. But whoever wrote it had access—and Trump’s permission to publish.

That one post delivered every wrong signal at once. It didn’t feel like Trump was floating his usual Putin protection plan. It felt like he was executing it.

Just a day earlier, Dmitry Medvedev openly called for the total destruction of Ukraine. Russian state media had spent the week mocking Trump—especially in the lead-up to Operation Spiderweb. Medvedev scoffed at the idea of a ceasefire “on someone else’s delusional terms.”

Who was he talking about?

Delusional?

And then Trump gets on a call with Putin and comes out saying he needs Putin to help strike a deal with Iran? If that doesn’t read as the Putin protection plan in motion, then what does?

The backlash to Trump’s post was immediate—and furious.

Wasn’t this the same Trump-Vance administration that told us this ain’t our war? Weren’t we told, “The conditions for that will be negotiated between the two parties, as it can only be, because they know details of a negotiation that nobody else would be aware of”? In other words: the U.S. should step aside. Trump even went so far as to suggest the Vatican should take over as mediator.

And yet—here he was, walking right back into the heart of it.

But this wasn’t about peace. It was about narrative momentum. Putin, reeling after the devastating blow to his air force, needed a shift in perception. And Trump almost gave him the breathing room to get it.

Almost.

The moment Trump said he needed Putin to strike a deal with Iran—that’s when it tipped. That was the overreach. That was the moment it stopped looking like diplomatic posturing and revealed itself for what it was.

I’m not surprised Trump tried to delete the post. LOL. What continues to surprise me is the fecklessness of the U.S. defense industrial complex.

They know—very clearly—that there is a powerful pro-Putin faction embedded within the current White House. They also know that a swarm of loud, well-funded MAGA personalities consistently push a pro-Kremlin line. Every time Trump picks up the phone to call Putin, this group springs into action and tries to drag the entire American posture sideways.

So where the hell is the defense sector? What are they doing?

They can’t keep playing catch-up. If this keeps going, they’re going to wake up one morning and realize they’re not selling into Europe—they’re competing with it. Competing against Rheinmetall. Competing against KNDS. Competing against joint ventures forming inside their former client states.

The monopoly-era is over.

The only edge U.S. defense firms still hold is hard-earned: engineering talent, battlefield-tested systems, and a global logistics footprint built over decades. But the trust factor? That’s already eroding. Europe no longer sees the U.S. as a reliable security partner—they see it as a potential variable. A wild card. A risk.

And once that shift completes, the realignment won’t be diplomatic—it will be industrial.

Europe has money. It has motivation. And it now has the political will to create defense sovereignty. If U.S. defense companies lose the European market, they lose their largest export base. They lose NATO-level scale. They lose pricing power.

How the Trump administration treats Europe—right now—will define the future of America’s defense economy. This is no longer about patriotism. This is about survival. Their choice. Move now—or get ready to be left behind.

The now-deleted then-resurrected post makes one thing brutally clear: the sanctions bill is dead. It’s not coming—not in this environment. Unless the national security hawks inside the GOP establishment find a way to regroup and force the issue, it won’t even make it to the floor. My confidence in that bill? Hovering just above zero. Not zero—but very close.

And yet, some of you may have noticed something else.

My confidence in Ukraine’s ability to resist has surged. In fact, the unthinkable after Trump—the full defeat of Russian forces—has started to creep into the frame. That’s not a fantasy. That’s been a slow, steady build since March 20th, 2025.

And it’s still ramping.

Yesterday, the United Kingdom announced that it had delivered 140,000 artillery shells to Ukraine.

• Delivered.

• Not pledged. Not promised. Delivered.

• That’s a rate of roughly 800 shells per day—from the UK alone.

Meanwhile, Germany is already producing over 2,000 shells daily and racing towards 4,000 shells. Add in output from Norway, the Czech Republic, and other European manufacturers, and the continent’s combined production is now approaching 4,000 shells per day.

According to the Estonian Ministry of Defence, Ukraine needs around 200,000 artillery shells per month—or about 6,700 per day—to maintain what they call “localized fire superiority”. Europe is closing in on that number. One final industrial push—and Ukraine crosses the threshold.

The Czech Republic has pledged 1.5 million shells for 2025—and they’re known to deliver on what they promise. On top of that, a joint venture between Czechoslovak Group and Ukraine’s defense industry is nearing completion: a domestic artillery ammunition plant, located inside Ukraine.

Net result?

Ukraine has either already reached artillery shell parity with Russia—or it’s about to. One round for every Russian round. And the moment that balance tips in Ukraine’s favor, the battlefield changes.

Putin, now under severe economic pressure, is being forced to choose:

• Missiles or artillery?

• Air defense or recruitment?

• Tanks or shells?

Russia’s war economy is starting to look like a paycheck-to-paycheck existence—only now the paycheck just got cut by 10%. Germany doesn’t have that problem. They’re doubling production. The UK doesn’t either—they just committed £1.5 billion to artillery manufacturing on June 1st.

If both stay the course, Ukraine will soon outgun Russia. On sheer volume alone. That single metric could reshape the war. Putin can’t stop this trajectory. His only fallback is North Korea—and even they aren’t going to keep shipping shells for free.

Wars are expensive. And for the first time in this conflict, Europe’s financial power is beginning to bite on the battlefield.

Where is Ukraine still vulnerable?

Air defense.

This is where Putin continues to gain ground. Russia is stockpiling missiles—cheaper to produce than the systems needed to intercept them—and firing in waves designed to overwhelm Ukrainian defenses. Europe, for all its momentum on artillery, still doesn’t have a clear solution here.

There are only two real paths forward.

First, Europe could start transferring its existing Patriot systems to Ukraine—now—and place immediate replacement orders for their own inventories. But when the Netherlands tried exactly that, offering to pay for fresh systems and transfer available European stocks in the interim, not a single nation stepped up. That tells you all you need to know. The odds of scaling up Patriot deployments remain extremely difficult.

Which leaves only one viable path: fighter jets.

Ukraine needs more F-16s, faster. These jets are versatile, mobile air-defense platforms. They don’t just shoot down missiles—they force Russia to change its targeting calculus. And unlike Patriots, they’re not bottle-necked with limited capacity.

The F-16s are the easiest path forward—and increasingly, the only path. So why is Europe still spinning its wheels over Patriots, while treating fighter jet transfers like an afterthought? That imbalance is starting to look less like caution—and more like strategic inertia.

What about U.S. intelligence and Starlink?

Yes—both remain valid concerns.

But the political ground under them has shifted.

The “this isn’t our war” messaging coming from Trump’s orbit has already narrowed the space for any dramatic pullback on intelligence sharing. And the minerals deal Ukraine signed with the U.S.—paired with increasing GOP establishment pressure to revive sanctions—means Trump can’t just quietly unplug the intelligence feed anymore. Not without facing serious internal backlash.

Starlink is another story. And this time, Musk won’t be the one writing the ending. He’s made a habit of threatening to pull Starlink from Ukraine whenever it suits his personal narrative or leverage game. But that game ended in Berlin.

During President Zelensky’s visit on May 28, German Chancellor Friedrich Merz made a pointed announcement: Germany will directly fund and deliver Starlink terminals to Ukraine as part of its new €5 billion military support package.

That statement came during a major press conference—alongside Zelensky himself. Merz could’ve highlighted anything: the billions committed to long-range weapons co-production, the new security guarantees, the deepening military partnership. But instead, he singled out Starlink—a line item likely worth only a few million. Not a headline figure. Not a budget breaker. And yet, he put it front and center.

Why?

Because that wasn’t just a funding line—it was a message.

If Musk tries to pull the plug, he’s not just snubbing Ukraine anymore. He’s snubbing Germany, in full view of the world. Musk may enjoy taunting Poland’s foreign minister or lobbing threats from Twitter. But is he really going to pick a fight with the German Chancellor? With the Bundestag watching?

Merz has four more years. 32 financial quarters.

No chance. Germany didn’t just pay for Starlink. They claimed it.

That announcement was a geopolitical dare.

And Musk won’t. Because he can’t. Not anymore. That ship sailed on May 28. And this time, it wasn’t Musk at the wheel.

Trump and Musk played fast and loose with their leverage. Now, most of it is gone.

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