
Shelagh Fogarty 1pm - 4pm
24 February 2025, 08:24
It’s lunchtime in the dining tent, which the British soldiers around me affectionately call the ‘scoff house.
’Hundreds of fresh-faced men and women, some of them as young as 18, are bumping elbows on the long benches, warming themselves up over steaming bowls of sausage and mash.
Iconic hits from Oasis and the Arctic Monkeys, oozing with nostalgia, are blaring from a speaker as the troops sing along, their vocal enthusiasm for ‘Live Forever’ and ‘Mardy Bum’ lost in translation among their bemused European comrades.
It’s a heartening scene in an otherwise cold and unforgiving landscape. Soon these troops will have to pick up their guns again and face the biting wind outside, digging trenches and learning how to rush enemy positions under heavy fire.
We’re just 13 miles from the border of Ukraine, where hundreds are dying every day in real trench warfare on vast open plains much like these ones on Romania’s eastern edge.
They’ve travelled thousands of miles, across land and sea, through Greece and Bulgaria, to take part in NATO’s largest exercise of the year, Operation Steadfast Dart. For some, it’s their first time away from home.
“It’s like the European road trip everyone dreams of,” says Corporal Charles Sweet from the Scottish Isle of Bute. “We’ve had plenty of waves and cheers on our way.” He’s just turned 27, and his two young girls have sent him a card and candles for his birthday cake.
While it might feel like an adventure at times, the true purpose of this journey is never far from his mind. Just a few days earlier, Prime Minister Keir Starmer announced that troops just like him might soon have to protect Ukraine if American President Donald Trump negotiates a ceasefire with Russia. Corporal Sweet tells me he’s prepared for whatever the future holds.
"It feels good to be part of something [larger], especially with the news we’ve been hearing.“We’re doing some high-quality training, building to the bigger picture of what we may need in the future.”
Lance Corporal Kieran Heckford, aged just 22, is similarly determined. “We’ve run through it thousands of times,” he tells me. “It’s second nature, so if it did come to it [we’d be ready].”
Russia’s brutal invasion of Ukraine three years ago has once again raised the spectre of a full-scale war in Europe, triggering a scramble by NATO’s military planners to relearn old lessons which many had hoped to leave in the last century. Commanding Officer Gordon Muir says this exercise has been planned with that invasion in mind.
“People have forgotten what defensive warfare ultimately results in,” he tells me.
“In our history, we’ve got some harrowing memories of it.
“We’re seeing this in technicolour from a Ukrainian perspective.”
And it’s that horror which troops here are ultimately planning for—whether by learning to fire anti-tank missiles, stem catastrophic bleeding caused by a shrapnel wound, or carry casualties through narrow, winding trenches, ducking to avoid enemy bullets flying overhead.
Steadfast Dart is part of NATO’s newly formed allied reaction force, which aims to demonstrate the alliance’s ability to deploy troops from across Europe quickly to halt a Russian incursion.
As President Trump’s administration announced an era-defining shift away from the continent’s defence, no American troops took part on the ground, a highly unusual decision for an operation of this scale, making it the first crucial test of whether Europe can defend itself alone.
Yet it was surreal hearing NATO top brass attempt to make a show of strength against Russian aggression, just as the leader of the alliance’s largest military power repeatedly undermined that message of deterrence.
At a military display showcasing NATO’s newfound skills, Admiral Stuart Munsch, who commands America’s naval forces in Europe, was forced into the ludicrous position of trying to condemn Russia’s invasion as ‘unprovoked’ while his own president described Ukraine’s democratically elected leader, Volodymyr Zelenskyy, as a ‘dictator,’ falsely accusing him of starting the war in a ferocious tirade which marked a breakneck shift in American foreign policy.
And Admiral Munsch’s message of cast-iron unity fell flat after President Trump’s Secretary of Defence, Pete Hegseth, suggested European countries would have to protect what remains of Ukraine after a ceasefire, without American or NATO security guarantees, casting serious doubt on whether America would honour its commitment to come to the aid of its allies if they were attacked by Russian forces there.
It is difficult to see how NATO, which has underpinned 70 years of relative peace in Europe, can survive such jarring inconsistencies. Deterrence relies on certainty, and doubt can be lethal. The sudden vacuum left by an American withdrawal could prompt Russia to test Europe’s resolve before we can rearm ourselves.
Nowhere is that vulnerability more evident than here in eastern Romania, a strategically significant region known as the Focșani Gate, just west of Moldova, where Russia already has a foothold in the breakaway province of Transnistria.
This 50-mile by 40-mile stretch of land, flanked by the Carpathians to the north and the Danube to the south, is one of the few natural corridors where an invading force could strike deep into NATO territory. It was vital to the Red Army’s advance into Nazi-occupied Europe during World War Two. It may prove so again if Russia manages to extend its control of Ukraine’s Black Sea coast.
Without the shield of American troops, Britain may have to play a leading role in defending this region. I have seen firsthand how committed our soldiers on the ground are, but the Government risks leaving them ill-prepared if it hesitates to meet the demands of this harsh new era. It has pledged to increase defence spending to 2.5 percent of GDP ‘when resources allow’, but has still not set a firm date, never mind expressed an interest in hiking spending beyond that.
To put the sheer urgency of the task into perspective, the British Army currently has around 70,000 active servicemen and women, the lowest number since the Napoleonic Era.
By some estimates, European armed forces would have to replace the capabilities of around 300,000 American troops if the US withdraws from the continent. Even the 30,000-strong ‘reassurance force’ which some European capitals are considering sending to a postwar Ukraine would be a drop in the ocean compared to the 150,000 troops which experts say would really be needed to stave off future Russian aggression.
In terms of hardware, we would have to muster more tanks, fighting vehicles, and artillery shells than are currently held by the entire British, French, German, and Italian armed forces combined to fully protect Eastern Europe.
Russia, in dreadful contrast, boasts the largest and most battle-hardened land force in Europe, outspending the rest of the continent and increasing the size of its army even as it suffers immense losses in Ukraine.
It has become a veritable war machine which could pose an existential threat to its western neighbours, including NATO states, if its president, Vladimir Putin, secures a favourable ceasefire in Ukraine and convinces President Trump to lift some of the sanctions constraining its economy.
Some defence officials have warned that Russia could be ready to launch a wider assault against Europe within five years. If British soldiers are deployed to Ukraine, they could become sitting ducks for one of the most seasoned armies on the planet.
The transatlantic alliance may yet be salvageable, but we must assume that it is dead. Our troops are already preparing for the worst. For their sakes, so should we.
________________
LBC Opinion provides a platform for diverse opinions on current affairs and matters of public interest.
The views expressed are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the official LBC position.
To contact us email views@lbc.co.uk