Just as Ukraine faces its most intense wave of Russian missile and drone strikes to date, the Trump administration has—how timely—suspended deliveries of essential military aid, including 155mm artillery shells, Patriot batteries, Stingers, and Hellfires. Apparently, American stockpiles have suddenly become too precious to share.

The White House, ever adept at public relations, confirmed the Politico report with the usual bureaucratic gloss. Spokeswoman Anna Kelly stated that the decision followed a review of munitions reserves and was taken “to prioritise U.S. interests.” She then added—without a hint of irony—“The strength of the U.S. Armed Forces remains uncontested. Just ask Iran.”

Meanwhile, back in reality, Ukraine reported a record 537 Russian projectiles launched in one night—a number likely to rise as Putin sees Western resolve melt faster than a Washington ethics panel. But instead of urgent support, Kyiv gets empty platitudes and vague promises.

Only last week, Donald Trump emerged from a cordial chat with President Zelenskiy at the NATO summit in The Hague and muttered something about possibly sending more Patriot systems. How generous. No timeline, no commitment, just the classic Trumpian flourish: say the right thing, do absolutely nothing, and then complain about everyone else not pulling their weight.

Behind the scenes, this latest retreat appears to be orchestrated by Elbridge Colby, the undersecretary for policy and long-time advocate of “strategic restraint”—a polite term for abandoning allies with style. Colby, along with Defence Secretary Pete Hegseth, has spent years insisting that Europe should handle its own defence, especially Ukraine’s.

Colby insists that the Pentagon is still offering Trump “robust options” to support Ukraine while also ensuring U.S. forces remain ready for whatever imaginary threat might come next. China? Iran? The midterms?

Technically, America has two mechanisms to send weapons to Ukraine: one involves dipping into current stockpiles, and the other requires actual procurement—i.e., waiting years for new gear to be manufactured and shipped, assuming funding isn’t frozen in a partisan tantrum. Trump, for his part, has made it clear he has no intention of asking Congress for more money.

So here we are: Ukraine is under fire, Europe is on edge, and Washington is busy counting its shells while boasting about global leadership. It’s the foreign policy equivalent of sending thoughts and prayers, just with better branding.

Beneath the patriotic speeches and NATO posturing lies a blunt truth: when it really matters, America’s support comes with a footnote, a clause, and a clock. Kyiv, take note—the arsenal of democracy has a waiting list, and you’re no longer at the front of it.