«Вирва, здавайся!» — кричали росіяни біля зруйнованого українського бліндажа. Вони вже знали її позивний. Після кількох атак, отруйного газу та потужних вибухів окупанти сподівалися, що українські воїни більше не чинитимуть опору. Але контужена Олександра Давиденко відмовилася здаватися. Поруч лежали двоє поранених побратимів. І вона вирішила витягнути їх звідти живими. 12 березня 2025 року. Донеччина, поблизу Спірного. Троє нацгвардійців — Олександра «Вирва», українець «Шустрий» та колумбієць Піньйо — тримають оборону проти групи російських штурмовиків. Окупанти закидають їх гранатами. Олександра веде вогонь і допомагає пораненим. Тоді росіяни скидають із дрона гранату з хімічною речовиною. Жінка встигає частково зупинити поширення газу, але сама вдихає отруту. Попри запаморочення й нудоту, продовжує бій. Наступний скид руйнує бліндаж. Олександру відкидає вибуховою хвилею. До тями вона приходить лише через 2 години. Обидва побратими непритомні. Колумбієць лежить під завалами із сильно травмованою ногою. Олександра насилу витягує його з-під колод, фіксує ногу, дає знеболювальне. Близько опівночі росіяни повертаються. Вимагають здатися, але самі наблизитися до бліндажа не наважуються. Вирва відмовляється. Тоді окупанти скидають на укриття протитанкову міну. Новий вибух. Нова контузія. Олександра знову непритомніє. Але, прийшовши до тями, перевіряє стан побратимів, зброю та боєприпаси. Дві доби вони залишаються під завалами. Без зв'язку, майже без води. У ніч на 14 березня Вирва разом із Шустрим починають розкопувати вихід. Щойно Олександра вибирається назовні, по ній відкривають вогонь двоє росіян. Вона миттєво відповідає автоматною чергою. Обох окупантів знищено. Олександрі вдається відновити зв'язок зі штабом. З останніх сил вона виводить поранених побратимів до сусідньої української позиції. Обидва вижили. А ще кілька років тому Олександра Давиденко працювала журналісткою в рідному Запоріжжі. Розповідала на радіо про українську культуру, письменників і митців. Її виховувала бабуся в селі на Запоріжжі. Змалку Олександра звикла до важкої праці, доглядала худобу, працювала на городі. Любила читати, особливо книжки з історії України. «Кожен вибір, тобто дія або бездіяльність, мають свої наслідки. Мене викувала непроста доля, тяжка праця і виживання, яке стало моєю зоною комфорту. Для мене нічого святішого за піхоту не існує! Вижити на фронті – це вже досягнення, особливо на Покровському напрямку. Допомагають досвід та інтуїція, віра і впертість, а головне – небажання здаватися», — розповідала Олександра. У 2020 році Олександра пішла до Нацгвардії. А після початку повномасштабного вторгнення майже 2 роки домагалася переведення в бойовий підрозділ. У 2024-му нарешті стала піхотинцем батальйону «Свобода» бригади «Рубіж». Перша ж ротація на позиції тривала 41 день. Свій незвичайний позивний отримала після одного з російських обстрілів. Побачивши величезну вирву, Олександра вигукнула: «Оце вирва!». Побратими вирішили, що саме так її й називатимуть. Згодом вона стала старшим кулеметником. За даними Нацгвардії, протягом бойових виходів у 2024–2025 роках знешкодила близько взводу російських військових. 24 березня 2026 року Олександрі Давиденко присвоїли звання Героя України з врученням ордена «Золота Зірка». Вона стала першою жінкою в історії Національної гвардії України, удостоєною цього найвищого державного звання. Та особливо вражають слова, якими Олександра пояснила своє рішення не здаватися навіть тоді, коли сама була контужена, отруєна газом і ледве трималася на ногах. «Я їх завела на позицію і мала їх звідти вивести».

Volodymyr Zelenskyy was greeted with applause on Downing Street — Sky News.

Ottilie "Ottla" Kafka (1892–1943) was the youngest and favorite sister of writer Franz Kafka, remembered for her fierce independence, deep bond with her brother, and extraordinary act of selflessness during the Holocaust. She defied bourgeois family expectations by studying at an agricultural school and managing an estate in Zürau. In 1920, she married Josef David. In 1942, she divorced him to protect her Christian husband and their two daughters (Vera and Helene) from Nazi anti-Jewish persecution. Ottla was deported to the Terezín ghetto in 1942, where she worked as a children's counselor caring for traumatized and orphaned children. She looked at the frightened faces of the orphans and volunteered to go with them. "I will not leave these children," she told the officials. At that time, 1,200 children were about to be sent to Auschwitz. She arrived at Auschwitz and was murdered in the gas chambers alongside the children on October 7, 1943, at the age of 51... Ottla Kafka was never someone who wanted to live in the shadow of her famous brother. Ottla was independent, hardworking, and possessed a spirit that was entirely her own. While Franz was a man of words and complex thoughts, Ottla was a woman of action. She broke away from family expectations to study agriculture and work the land with her own hands. She loved the simplicity of nature and the honesty of hard labor. Franz admired her deeply for this unbending will, often calling her his "anchor" in a world that felt chaotic. Their bond was the strongest thread in the Kafka family. They were confidantes who shared a deep, mutual understanding. Franz once wrote about her, "She is my most beloved sister, and my most reliable friend." She was the person he trusted with his deepest fears. But as the darkness of World War II fell over Europe, Ottla proved that her strength went far beyond just being a supportive sister. Because she was Jewish, Ottla was eventually sent to the Terezín concentration camp. Even in a place defined by starvation and misery, she did not focus on herself. She spent her time working as a nurse and caring for the hundreds of children who were trapped there. She became a source of light for those who had lost their parents and their hope. She was the calm voice in the middle of a nightmare. On October 7, 1943, a group of about 1,200 orphaned children was rounded up to be sent to the gas chambers of Auschwitz. These children were alone and terrified. Ottla actually had a chance to save herself. Because she had once been married to a non-Jewish man, she had a legal protection that many others did not have. She could have stayed behind in Terezín and waited for the war to end. Instead, she chose to stay by the side of the children. She could not imagine those innocent souls boarding a train into the unknown without a single person to comfort them. She chose to be the tender touch in the suffocating darkness and the protector of the vulnerable. She walked onto that train of her own free will. She arrived at Auschwitz just a short time later. Records show she was killed in the gas chambers almost immediately, dying alongside the very children she refused to abandon. She didn't leave behind any world-famous books or grand paintings, but she left behind an indelible gesture of what it means to be truly human. Ottla Kafka’s life is a reminder that we are more than just the people we are related to. We are the choices we make when things are at their worst. She was a woman who could have chosen safety, but she chose love instead. Her story is a silent, eternal embrace that speaks more clearly than a thousand words. #archaeohistories

❗️I want to sincerely thank the people of Great Britain for everything you have done for Ukraine. Even before the full-scale invasion began, Britain was among the first to provide us with NLAW anti-tank systems — weapons that helped stop Russian columns on the approaches to Kyiv and in other directions. This support only grew afterward: thousands of NLAWs, Challenger 2 tanks (Britain became the first Western country to transfer main battle tanks to Ukraine), Storm Shadow cruise missiles, and other equipment. I would especially like to highlight the large-scale training of Ukrainian soldiers. Through Operation Interflex, more than 60,000 of our troops have already received training on British soil — from basic training for recruits to courses for commanders and instructors. This is one of the largest programmes of its kind since the Second World War. Great Britain continues to provide significant military, financial, and humanitarian assistance, and this means a great deal to us. Thank you, Britain. 🇺🇦❤️🇬🇧

New Jersey, the 1970s. A girl is checking a long multiplication problem with a trick called casting out nines. Karen Smith loves it. Math feels like a puzzle. Then her class switches to base 8. The trick fails. Most students move on. Karen cannot. She keeps at it until she finds that in base 8 you cast out sevens, not nines. She still wants to know why. That question stays with her for years. In high school she meets modular arithmetic, the tool that explains it, and writes a proof that the method works in any base. On her own she starts imagining a geometry where parallel lines meet at infinity. She does not know mathematicians have studied it for centuries. It is called the projective plane. A teacher, Mr. Drinfeld, sees what she is doing and opens an extra class for a few seniors. One of the books is number theory. Years later she says, “I loved it. It definitely made me a mathematician.” At Princeton, her freshman calculus professor is Charles Fefferman, who will win the Fields Medal in 1978. He tells her something she has never considered. She could make mathematics her career. She graduates in 1987, teaches high school for a year, then learns a math PhD can come with full support. In 1988 she moves to Ann Arbor. Her mentor, Mel Hochster, introduces her to tight closure, a new idea that becomes the center of her work. That fall she meets Finnish mathematician Juha Heinonen. They marry in 1991. She earns her PhD in 1993. The thesis is published the next year in Inventiones Mathematicae. She goes to Purdue, then MIT, then back to Michigan as a professor. A 20-hour lecture course she gives in Finland in 1996 becomes a textbook in 2000. In 2001, at 35, the American Mathematical Society gives her the Ruth Lyttle Satter Prize and calls her a world leader in tight closure. She and Juha raise three children, including twins. In October 2007 Juha dies of kidney cancer. The twins are four. Karen is a single mother of three with a research career still in front of her. She does not quit. The children keep speaking Finnish. Every summer they go to Finland. Every week they bake Finnish rye bread. She keeps teaching, proving theorems, and training students. By 2017 she has written with 32 coauthors and guided 20 students through their PhDs. In 2019 she is elected to the National Academy of Sciences. In 2021 she is elected to the American Academy of Arts and Sciences. Today she chairs the mathematics department at the University of Michigan. It started with a trick that stopped working in middle school. She did not accept the failure. She asked why until she had the answer. Then someone told her mathematics could be her life’s work.

Absolutely unreal dilemma on European security is now unfolding in Latvia. Russia, through its puppet Belarus, is applying more active measures by breaking Latvian border with unidentified armed forces. They raid into Latvia, pillage and go back to Belarus What to do with them?

I love the Japanese intro to Postman Pat. It's so relaxing. For research purposes, I've painstakingly translated the Japanese lyrics...

It's all about the Green Party at the moment-but not in the way they'd like. After their party conference made headlines for a motion that now has them compared to 1980's BNP, the timing couldn't be worse for Polanski. Can MP Hannah Spencer save him? #parody

Woman of the Day Barbara Betts born OTD in 1910 in Chesterfield, Derbyshire, one of the longest serving Members of Parliament and the first woman in the UK to be appointed First Secretary of State. Barbara was the Labour MP for Blackburn from 1945 to 1979. From 1965 until 1968, she was the Minister of Transport and never one to sit still, she called for "a profound change in public attitudes" to halt the gallop of road fatalities, saying: “Hitler did not manage to kill as many civilians in Britain as have been killed on our roads since the war". Barbara also introduced legislation permitting use of breathalysers. A BBC journalist told her it was a “rotten idea” and said, "You're only a woman, you don't drive, what do you know about it?". Quite a lot, as it happened. In the first twelve months, road deaths dropped by 16.5%. She didn’t stop there. She made the national speed limit of 70mph a permanent one and motorway casualties fell by 20%. Seat belts? Yes, Barbara introduced those too, making the roads safer for all of us. As Employment Secretary, she proposed reducing the power of the trade unions with her 1969 White Paper In Place Of Strife. It caused uproar, a major cabinet split, resignations, and alienated her from her colleagues on the Left. In fact, it is still blamed by some for Labour’s GE result in 1970 but Barbara made history when she intervened in the Dagenham Ford sewing machinists’ strike of 1968. She helped resolve the strike, thus securing a pay rise for Ford’s women workers that gave them 92% of men’s pay, but she cemented this win and took it to its logical conclusion by ushering through the Equal Pay Act 1970. The UK led the world by being the first country in the world to legislate for equal pay for women, all thanks to Barbara. By now you’ve probably guessed the name by which Barbara was better known. She married a bloke called Ted Castle along the way. That’s right: Barbara Castle, later Baroness Castle of Blackburn. I should also mention that Barbara’s secretary during the mid- to late 1950s was former Tiller girl Betty Boothroyd, later the first woman Speaker and Baroness Boothroyd. Office accommodation in the House of Commons was so scarce and so restricted that for a while in 1959, Barbara shared her office with Betty and also with the newly elected MP for Finchley, one Margaret Roberts, later the first woman Prime Minister and Baroness Thatcher. Three women of principle, three forces of nature in one small space. Wouldn’t you like to have been a fly on that particular wall? (Wonder what they’d have made of the Green Party today? They wouldn’t have held back. Oh how I wish they were around now). Barbara Castle died in 2002, aged 91, at her home at Hell Corner Farm. A political giant.

On this day in 1930: virologist June Almeida was born in Glasgow. Raised in Dennistoun, she left school at 16 to work as a lab technician at Glasgow Royal Infirmary. Despite not having a university degree, her genius in electron microscopy revolutionised the field of science 1/2

Meet the Bletchley Park genius who cracked one of Nazi Germany’s most secure codes. Helene Aldwinckle’s breakthrough on the ultra-secret Pink Luftwaffenführungsschlüssel gave the Allies the power to read critical Luftwaffe messages in real time. Let's explore: (🧵)

The free bottle of milk on every British school desk was put there by a 4ft 10 redhead from a Manchester slum, who was dead within 6 months of doing it. Ellen Wilkinson grew up in Ardwick in the 1890s, in a house with no bath, and caught every illness going. She got out on scholarships. By 1935 she was MP for Jarrow, a shipbuilding town where the yard had shut and 7 men in 10 had no work. She had seen what that did to the children. They were small, bow-legged and grey. In 1936 she walked with 200 of their fathers from Jarrow to London, nearly 300 miles, to hand in a petition. The Prime Minister would not see them. In 1945 she was made Minister of Education. She had one thing she wanted above the rest. The Treasury told her the country was bankrupt and it could not be afforded. In August 1946 a third of a pint of full cream milk became free for every schoolchild in Britain, every day, whatever their parents earned. That winter was the worst of the century. Her ministry had no coal. She worked in her overcoat with bronchitis, and on 6 February 1947 she was found dead in her flat, aged 55. She never saw a single class of those children grow up. They turned out the tallest and straightest generation the country had ever produced. If you drank it, warm, through a paper straw, you were her life's work.

“Child Repeatedly Raped” You’re welcome, Rotherham Record.

Maureen Flavin Sweeney was a 21-year-old Irish postmistress and weather observer whose accurate reading of an approaching Atlantic storm helped prompt the postponement of the D-Day landings in June 1944. Her hourly readings were telegraphed to London, alarming Allied chief meteorologist Group Captain James Stagg, who called Blacksod directly to double-check the alarming barometer drops. She received a special US House of Representatives Special Recognition Award in 2021 and passed away at the age of 100 in late 2023.... On June 3, 1944, postmistress Maureen Flavin (1923-2023) was taking routine weather readings at the remote Blacksod Point post office on Ireland’s western coast. Due to its geographic position jutting out into the Atlantic Ocean, Blacksod was often the first station to detect incoming weather fronts heading toward mainland Europe. Ireland was officially neutral during World War II, but under a secret agreement, her hourly barometric pressure and atmospheric data were regularly transmitted to the British Meteorological Office via Dublin. When Flavin recorded a sharp drop in barometric pressure that morning, she realized a severe storm was building. After rechecking her numbers with her supervisor (and future husband) Ted Sweeney, she telegraphed the figures forward. The data alarmed Allied forecasters, prompting an urgent phone call directly to Blacksod asking her to verify the figures. She confirmed the reading, which was quickly passed up the chain to Group Captain James Stagg, chief meteorological adviser to General Dwight D. Eisenhower. At the time, the Allied invasion of Normandy was slated for June 5. Armed with Flavin’s vital report warning of choppy seas and heavy cloud cover, Eisenhower made the high-stakes decision to postpone the landings by 24 hours. The storm hit Normandy on June 5 as predicted; had the invasion proceeded as planned, thousands of Allied troops likely would have perished in the violent Channel conditions. Flavin did not discover that her routine readings had altered the course of World War II until over a decade later. Crucially, June 3, 1944, was also Maureen Flavin’s 21st birthday. Far from being a mere spectator to history, her crucial readings were verified alongside her supervisor, Ted Sweeney, whom she would go on to marry two years later. Remarkably, because the weather gathering was part of a secret agreement between neutral Ireland and the Allies, neither Maureen nor Ted realized the true weight of their hourly barometric report until 1956, when government records were finally declassified. #archaeohistories