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RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @minilikawiti The Amhara people in Ethiopia are facing a dire situation with the government's declaration of war & genocide. The IC must act now to prevent further violence & hold perpetrators ac countable. #AmharaGenocide #AmharaUnderAttack @AndreaGittleman @amnesty @ClooneyFDN @UN @hrw https://t.co/7HEa24Czt2...

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @QueenLatifano As Ethiopia enters rainy season, Amhara farmers r being denied access to fertilize & seeds, an act of economic #Genocide against a venerable population, driven by a war waged by z Govt. of Ethiopia. #IC inaction will lead to mass starvation. #AmharaGenocide @StateDept @WFP @AP https://t.co/i40fAdV5Gi...

RT @AlMariam1 The African Union has appointed former Nigerian President Olusegun Obasanjo to support peace and stability in the Horn of Africa, including confidence-building, dialogue, and implementation of the Pretoria Cessation of Hostilities Agreement. The AU and UN have continued to call on the signatories to use the Pretoria framework and mechanisms to resolve outstanding disputes. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 (𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅-𝐏𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭—𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅-𝐏) 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚 𝐀𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚 𝐀𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐠𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 “𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲; 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅’𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬.” In July 2017, I wrote a commentary entitled, “The Zero-Sum Negotiation Games of the T-TPLF in Ethiopia,” in which I identified 10 strategies the TPLF has used to do smoke and mirrors (make believe) negotiations with its adversaries. Read here: https://t.co/STBZkY0SBu 𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅-𝐏 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞: 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐬, 𝐦𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫. 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞. 𝐀 𝐰𝐚𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦. 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅, 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐧. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐠𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐁𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐳𝐞𝐫𝐨-𝐬𝐮𝐦 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟. There is one game TPLF-P is most afraid to play: Pretoria Agreement. That agreement provides for permanent cessation of hostilities, disarmament, demobilization and reintegration, restoration of constitutional order and services, humanitarian access, political dialogue and transitional justice and monitoring and verification. The TPLF formally followed the Pretoria Agreement until the situation deteriorated significantly in 2025, when the hardline TPLF-P faction launched a de facto coup against the federal-backed interim administration. By mid-July 2026, the TPLF had declared the agreement "effectively dead," and is now pursuing futile suicidal military adventurism. TPLF-P should think had about its endgame. The battlefield situation has changed dramatically since they launched their disastrous war in November 2020. The proliferation of drones and unmanned systems have created opportunities for "kill zones" where traditional large-unit movements are detected and instantly destroyed. Drones turn concealed tanks, artillery, anti-aircraft systems and large caches of small arms into instant toast. Unremitting surveillance, reconnaissance drones, FPV drones, and precision strike capabilities have made large troop concentrations and exposed armored movements sitting ducks. In this tactical war zone situation and combat operations, TPLF-P will sacrifice thousands of its forcefully conscripted child soldiers in killing zones. The lesson for TPLF-P should be unmistakable: the old deception-negotiation game has reached its limits. No serious political future can be built on permanent brinkmanship. No outside relationship—whether with Eritrea, Egypt, Sudan, or any other actor—can substitute for a sustainable Ethiopian political settlement. Foreign backing cannot solve Tigray's fundamental political problems or guarantee victory. Only Ethiopian solutions to ethiopian problems! And there is a harder and harsher reality TPLF-P must face: there is no strategic wisdom in starting a war you cannot finish. Six years ago, the TPLF had the support of the crooked Biden administration when it launched a cowardly attack on the Ethiopian Northern Command. They were able to mobilize the Biden administration to immobilize Ethiopia with sanctions and other punitive actions. It is a different day. A few days ago, Ethiopia and the United States agreed to elevate their bilateral military and security ties into a comprehensive strategic defense partnership following high-level talks at the Pentagon. The Trump administration don’t take no mess from TPLF-P. That is the clear message of Ambassador Massinga’s tweet. The fact of the matter is that another round of armed confrontation will bring enormous destruction without producing a durable political victory. A snowball has a much better chance of going through hell intact than the TPLF restoring itself to power in Ethiopia. TPLF-P’s provocations will achieve nothing except sacrificing another generation of Tigrayan and Ethiopian lives for political objectives that should be pursued at the dialogue table. TPLF-P wants to have its cake and eat it too. It wants to continue its military adventurism while pretending to negotiate with the Ethiopian federal government. The only thing it is going to eat, if it does not come to the Pretoria table soon, is the manna of fire from the skies. So the choice before the TPLF-P is simple: Return to Pretoria. Whatever issues TPLF-P has with the Ethiopian federal government can be addressed at the dialogue table within the framework of the Pretoria Agreement. Pursue political objectives politically, not through military adventurism. End the futile cycle of military provocation, mobilization, escalation and destruction. Save the children of Tigray! Open Tigray for full humanitarian access. TPLF-P: The time for political theater is over. TPLF-P: The time for manufactured crises is over. TPLF-P: The time for war games is over. Game Over! What time is it? It is Pretoria Time! 𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅-𝐏: 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐦!" 𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅-𝐏: 𝐄𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚 𝐀𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐀 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍. @PMEthiopia @AbiyAhmedAli @TagessechaffoD @AdanechAbiebie @TayeAtske @GHessebon @SMHaderaAbera @mfaethiopia @_AfricanUnion @USEmbassyAddis @DeputySecState @StateDept @marcorubio @VP @PeteHegseth @ChinaEmbAddis @USAfricaCommand @GovernmentRF @EUinEthiopia @RusEmbEthiopia @binalf7 @MfaEgypt @TemesgenTiru #Ethiopia #AddisAbaba @UKinEthiopia @EUinEthiopia @GerEmbAddis @BelgiumAddis @TiborPNagyJr @NorwayinAddis @AusEmbET @SweinEthiopia @flyethiopian @AlsisiOfficial @RedwanHussien @FoxNews @ECA_Official #Somaliland #Egypt #Eritrea #Somalia @MOFASomalia @reda_getachew @EthiopianNewsA @EthioNDC @theVillaSomalia #Djibouti @cnni @BBCAfrica @CNNAfrica @BloombergAfrica @Aljazeerafrican @EgyptPRNewYork @emirates @HHShkMohd @AlArabiya_Brk...

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @JemalCountess The current government in Ethiopia is engaged in an active genocide and ethnic cleansing against the Amhara people. Their ultimate aim is to build a new nation centered around the Oromo ethnic group incorporating lands seized from the Amhara and other ethnic groups to fulfill their objectives. The FANO are fighting the Ethiopian government to protect the Amhara region and all of Ethiopia for that matter from the fascist seeking to destroy the Amhara people, the Ethiopian Orthodox Church and the country itself. The Amhara have experienced large scale massacres seemingly every week for the past several years committed by forces aligned with, if not under direct orders of the current, Oromo dominated government....

RT @JemalCountess Those of you following events in Ethiopia and asking why the FANO are fighting the "Government Forces" in Ethiopia? Can we talk about the other aspect of this, how there are forces within the country that have no regard for sacred institutions and have been and continue to look for any opportunities to erase ethnic Amharas from the landscape of the country. This was part of the objective of the war that took place in the Northern part of the country when fighters of the TPLF committed multiple massacres and attacks on noncombatants in the Amhara and Afar regions. Ethnic Amharas are not “paranoid” about the multiple episodes of mass murder they have endured and how these crimes have been covered up using propaganda and rewritten narratives. To those in the Orthodox faith, you need to understand that the attacks on Chena Teklehaymanot Church occurred on the day commemorating Teklehaymanot as the Tabot was leaving the church. In other words the gunman waited until the Tabot was the focus of the crowd. The parishioners were facing the Tabot, as were the gunman. The gunman chose that moment to open fire, shooting parishioners from behind while ignoring the presence of the Tabot. CHENA, ETHIOPIA - OCTOBER 10: Kes (Priest) Tiftu Ejigu mourns his 40 year old wife and 3 year old daughter at their grave site on the 40th Day commemoration of their deaths at the massacre at Chena Teklehaymanot Church on October 10, 2021 in Chena, Ethiopia. Officials in this part of the Amhara region, which borders Tigray, said Chena was the site of a two-day attack by Tigrayan fighters that began during the Mass (Kidasse) on the annual observance of the day of Saint Teklehaymanot on August 31, that according to local government officials resulted in the deaths of at least 119 civilians even though villagers place the death toll at 207. Tigrayan forces denied responsibility and called the allegations fabricated. The almost yearlong conflict in the Tigray region has spread to neighboring Amhara after the TPLF recaptured most of its home state from government forces in June and then invaded the Amhara and Afar regions in July of 2021. (Photo by Jemal Countess/Getty Images) https://t.co/Oo4V9dHUBy...

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @AlMariam1 The African Union has appointed former Nigerian President Olusegun Obasanjo to support peace and stability in the Horn of Africa, including confidence-building, dialogue, and implementation of the Pretoria Cessation of Hostilities Agreement. The AU and UN have continued to call on the signatories to use the Pretoria framework and mechanisms to resolve outstanding disputes. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 (𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅-𝐏𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭—𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅-𝐏) 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚 𝐀𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚 𝐀𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐠𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 “𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲; 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅’𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬.” In July 2017, I wrote a commentary entitled, “The Zero-Sum Negotiation Games of the T-TPLF in Ethiopia,” in which I identified 10 strategies the TPLF has used to do smoke and mirrors (make believe) negotiations with its adversaries. Read here: https://t.co/STBZkY0SBu 𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅-𝐏 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞: 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐬, 𝐦𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫. 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞. 𝐀 𝐰𝐚𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦. 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅, 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐧. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐠𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐁𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐳𝐞𝐫𝐨-𝐬𝐮𝐦 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟. There is one game TPLF-P is most afraid to play: Pretoria Agreement. That agreement provides for permanent cessation of hostilities, disarmament, demobilization and reintegration, restoration of constitutional order and services, humanitarian access, political dialogue and transitional justice and monitoring and verification. The TPLF formally followed the Pretoria Agreement until the situation deteriorated significantly in 2025, when the hardline TPLF-P faction launched a de facto coup against the federal-backed interim administration. By mid-July 2026, the TPLF had declared the agreement "effectively dead," and is now pursuing futile suicidal military adventurism. TPLF-P should think had about its endgame. The battlefield situation has changed dramatically since they launched their disastrous war in November 2020. The proliferation of drones and unmanned systems have created opportunities for "kill zones" where traditional large-unit movements are detected and instantly destroyed. Drones turn concealed tanks, artillery, anti-aircraft systems and large caches of small arms into instant toast. Unremitting surveillance, reconnaissance drones, FPV drones, and precision strike capabilities have made large troop concentrations and exposed armored movements sitting ducks. In this tactical war zone situation and combat operations, TPLF-P will sacrifice thousands of its forcefully conscripted child soldiers in killing zones. The lesson for TPLF-P should be unmistakable: the old deception-negotiation game has reached its limits. No serious political future can be built on permanent brinkmanship. No outside relationship—whether with Eritrea, Egypt, Sudan, or any other actor—can substitute for a sustainable Ethiopian political settlement. Foreign backing cannot solve Tigray's fundamental political problems or guarantee victory. Only Ethiopian solutions to ethiopian problems! And there is a harder and harsher reality TPLF-P must face: there is no strategic wisdom in starting a war you cannot finish. Six years ago, the TPLF had the support of the crooked Biden administration when it launched a cowardly attack on the Ethiopian Northern Command. They were able to mobilize the Biden administration to immobilize Ethiopia with sanctions and other punitive actions. It is a different day. A few days ago, Ethiopia and the United States agreed to elevate their bilateral military and security ties into a comprehensive strategic defense partnership following high-level talks at the Pentagon. The Trump administration don’t take no mess from TPLF-P. That is the clear message of Ambassador Massinga’s tweet. The fact of the matter is that another round of armed confrontation will bring enormous destruction without producing a durable political victory. A snowball has a much better chance of going through hell intact than the TPLF restoring itself to power in Ethiopia. TPLF-P’s provocations will achieve nothing except sacrificing another generation of Tigrayan and Ethiopian lives for political objectives that should be pursued at the dialogue table. TPLF-P wants to have its cake and eat it too. It wants to continue its military adventurism while pretending to negotiate with the Ethiopian federal government. The only thing it is going to eat, if it does not come to the Pretoria table soon, is the manna of fire from the skies. So the choice before the TPLF-P is simple: Return to Pretoria. Whatever issues TPLF-P has with the Ethiopian federal government can be addressed at the dialogue table within the framework of the Pretoria Agreement. Pursue political objectives politically, not through military adventurism. End the futile cycle of military provocation, mobilization, escalation and destruction. Save the children of Tigray! Open Tigray for full humanitarian access. TPLF-P: The time for political theater is over. TPLF-P: The time for manufactured crises is over. TPLF-P: The time for war games is over. Game Over! What time is it? It is Pretoria Time! 𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅-𝐏: 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐦!" 𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅-𝐏: 𝐄𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚 𝐀𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐀 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍. @PMEthiopia @AbiyAhmedAli @TagessechaffoD @AdanechAbiebie @TayeAtske @GHessebon @SMHaderaAbera @mfaethiopia @_AfricanUnion @USEmbassyAddis @DeputySecState @StateDept @marcorubio @VP @PeteHegseth @ChinaEmbAddis @USAfricaCommand @GovernmentRF @EUinEthiopia @RusEmbEthiopia @binalf7 @MfaEgypt @TemesgenTiru #Ethiopia #AddisAbaba @UKinEthiopia @EUinEthiopia @GerEmbAddis @BelgiumAddis @TiborPNagyJr @NorwayinAddis @AusEmbET @SweinEthiopia @flyethiopian @AlsisiOfficial @RedwanHussien @FoxNews @ECA_Official #Somaliland #Egypt #Eritrea #Somalia @MOFASomalia @reda_getachew @EthiopianNewsA @EthioNDC @theVillaSomalia #Djibouti @cnni @BBCAfrica @CNNAfrica @BloombergAfrica @Aljazeerafrican @EgyptPRNewYork @emirates @HHShkMohd @AlArabiya_Brk...

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @OmnaTigray The war on Tigray was supposed to have ended. It has not. Civilians in Tigray are once again facing aerial attacks after years of the Pretoria Agreement being weaponized and a war of attrition against the region. On August 20, drones sent by the Ethiopian National Defense Forces struck two areas of Mekelle. At least 13 casualties were received at Ayder Hospital, including women and children #Ethiopia #Tigray...

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

The African Union has appointed former Nigerian President Olusegun Obasanjo to support peace and stability in the Horn of Africa, including confidence-building, dialogue, and implementation of the Pretoria Cessation of Hostilities Agreement. The AU and UN have continued to call on the signatories to use the Pretoria framework and mechanisms to resolve outstanding disputes. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 (𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅-𝐏𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭—𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅-𝐏) 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚 𝐀𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚 𝐀𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐠𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 “𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲; 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅’𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬.” In July 2017, I wrote a commentary entitled, “The Zero-Sum Negotiation Games of the T-TPLF in Ethiopia,” in which I identified 10 strategies the TPLF has used to do smoke and mirrors (make believe) negotiations with its adversaries. Read here: https://t.co/STBZkY0SBu 𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅-𝐏 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞: 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐬, 𝐦𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫. 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞. 𝐀 𝐰𝐚𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦. 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅, 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐧. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐠𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐁𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐳𝐞𝐫𝐨-𝐬𝐮𝐦 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟. There is one game TPLF-P is most afraid to play: Pretoria Agreement. That agreement provides for permanent cessation of hostilities, disarmament, demobilization and reintegration, restoration of constitutional order and services, humanitarian access, political dialogue and transitional justice and monitoring and verification. The TPLF formally followed the Pretoria Agreement until the situation deteriorated significantly in 2025, when the hardline TPLF-P faction launched a de facto coup against the federal-backed interim administration. By mid-July 2026, the TPLF had declared the agreement "effectively dead," and is now pursuing futile suicidal military adventurism. TPLF-P should think had about its endgame. The battlefield situation has changed dramatically since they launched their disastrous war in November 2020. The proliferation of drones and unmanned systems have created opportunities for "kill zones" where traditional large-unit movements are detected and instantly destroyed. Drones turn concealed tanks, artillery, anti-aircraft systems and large caches of small arms into instant toast. Unremitting surveillance, reconnaissance drones, FPV drones, and precision strike capabilities have made large troop concentrations and exposed armored movements sitting ducks. In this tactical war zone situation and combat operations, TPLF-P will sacrifice thousands of its forcefully conscripted child soldiers in killing zones. The lesson for TPLF-P should be unmistakable: the old deception-negotiation game has reached its limits. No serious political future can be built on permanent brinkmanship. No outside relationship—whether with Eritrea, Egypt, Sudan, or any other actor—can substitute for a sustainable Ethiopian political settlement. Foreign backing cannot solve Tigray's fundamental political problems or guarantee victory. Only Ethiopian solutions to ethiopian problems! And there is a harder and harsher reality TPLF-P must face: there is no strategic wisdom in starting a war you cannot finish. Six years ago, the TPLF had the support of the crooked Biden administration when it launched a cowardly attack on the Ethiopian Northern Command. They were able to mobilize the Biden administration to immobilize Ethiopia with sanctions and other punitive actions. It is a different day. A few days ago, Ethiopia and the United States agreed to elevate their bilateral military and security ties into a comprehensive strategic defense partnership following high-level talks at the Pentagon. The Trump administration don’t take no mess from TPLF-P. That is the clear message of Ambassador Massinga’s tweet. The fact of the matter is that another round of armed confrontation will bring enormous destruction without producing a durable political victory. A snowball has a much better chance of going through hell intact than the TPLF restoring itself to power in Ethiopia. TPLF-P’s provocations will achieve nothing except sacrificing another generation of Tigrayan and Ethiopian lives for political objectives that should be pursued at the dialogue table. TPLF-P wants to have its cake and eat it too. It wants to continue its military adventurism while pretending to negotiate with the Ethiopian federal government. The only thing it is going to eat, if it does not come to the Pretoria table soon, is the manna of fire from the skies. So the choice before the TPLF-P is simple: Return to Pretoria. Whatever issues TPLF-P has with the Ethiopian federal government can be addressed at the dialogue table within the framework of the Pretoria Agreement. Pursue political objectives politically, not through military adventurism. End the futile cycle of military provocation, mobilization, escalation and destruction. Save the children of Tigray! Open Tigray for full humanitarian access. TPLF-P: The time for political theater is over. TPLF-P: The time for manufactured crises is over. TPLF-P: The time for war games is over. Game Over! What time is it? It is Pretoria Time! 𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅-𝐏: 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐦!" 𝐓𝐏𝐋𝐅-𝐏: 𝐄𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚 𝐀𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐀 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍. @PMEthiopia @AbiyAhmedAli @TagessechaffoD @AdanechAbiebie @TayeAtske @GHessebon @SMHaderaAbera @mfaethiopia @_AfricanUnion @USEmbassyAddis @DeputySecState @StateDept @marcorubio @VP @PeteHegseth @ChinaEmbAddis @USAfricaCommand @GovernmentRF @EUinEthiopia @RusEmbEthiopia @binalf7 @MfaEgypt @TemesgenTiru #Ethiopia #AddisAbaba @UKinEthiopia @EUinEthiopia @GerEmbAddis @BelgiumAddis @TiborPNagyJr @NorwayinAddis @AusEmbET @SweinEthiopia @flyethiopian @AlsisiOfficial @RedwanHussien @FoxNews @ECA_Official #Somaliland #Egypt #Eritrea #Somalia @MOFASomalia @reda_getachew @EthiopianNewsA @EthioNDC @theVillaSomalia #Djibouti @cnni @BBCAfrica @CNNAfrica @BloombergAfrica @Aljazeerafrican @EgyptPRNewYork @emirates @HHShkMohd @AlArabiya_Brk...

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @DilNaodA The irony is almost too much. Abiy Ahmed’s government brought Eritrean troops into Ethiopia’s war against Tigray, fought alongside them, and only acknowledged their presence after initially denying it. Now the same political camp is screaming “TREASON” because Tigrayans may seek foreign backing against Abiy. So apparently, inviting a foreign army into Ethiopia is “national security” when Abiy does it—but “treason” when his opponents do it. PP camp is the master of treason....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @AlMariam1 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 “𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐀 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍” 𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚: 𝐀 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 At the closing ceremony of Ethiopia’s National Dialogue Conference on August 22, 2026, former Kenyan President Uhuru Kenyatta delivered a message that resonated profoundly with the spirit of my “Make Ethiopia Great Again” (MEGA) vision. He declared that Ethiopia cannot achieve its full potential through war, but it can achieve greatness through dialogue, compromise, and reconciliation. Kenyatta’s keynote was not merely about ending a conference. It was about beginning an Ethiopian Century where the Ethiopian people united can unlock the vast natural wealth of their country and build a peaceful and prosperous future for themselves and the entire Horn of Africa. Ethiopia: An Ancient Civilization, Not Just a State Kenyatta’s central idea was simple yet profound: Ethiopia’s greatness lies in its people, its diversity, and its enormous potential. He reminded Ethiopians that their country is not just another African state. Ethiopia is one of the world’s oldest civilizations, a symbol of African independence, and a nation whose history belongs not only to Ethiopians but to all Africans. From the victory of Adwa to Addis Ababa’s role as the diplomatic capital of Africa, Ethiopia has long inspired the continent. But Kenyatta’s message was not only about pride in the past; it was about confidence in the future. The challenge before Ethiopians, he suggested, is to transform their historic greatness into modern greatness—through peace, unity, development, and good governance. He said diversity is Ethiopia’s greatest strength. Ethiopia’s diversity is not a problem to be solved but a treasure to be embraced. The Terrible Cost of Conflict, The Immense Promise of Peace Kenyatta spoke candidly about the terrible cost of conflict. No political disagreement, he argued, is worth the destruction, suffering, and lost opportunities caused by violence. Peace is not only a moral necessity; it is an economic necessity, the foundation of prosperity. He said a peaceful Ethiopia can fully develop its immense resources. It has natural resources in abundance: fertile agricultural lands, vast water resources and hydropower potential, minerals and natural wealth, a young and energetic population, strategic trade routes linking Africa and global markets, and rich cultural and tourism assets. Kenyatta said a peaceful Ethiopia means: more trade and investment, better regional infrastructure, greater security, and more opportunities for millions across the Horn of Africa. Dialogue Must Continue: A Call to Make Ethiopia Great Again 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥. 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧’𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞. Kenyatta reminded Ethiopians through an African proverb: “If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.” For Ethiopia, greatness will come not from the triumph of one group over another, but from the collective effort of all its people, working together to build a common future. My MAKE ETHIOPIA GREAT AGAIN (MEGA) Project/Campaign: A National-Renewal Vision President Kenyatta beautifully captures the essence of my “Make Ethiopia Great Again” vision, project and campaign: a peaceful, united, democratic, and prosperous Ethiopia that not only fulfills the aspirations of its own people but also becomes a pillar of stability and progress for the Horn of Africa. He said, “Ethiopia is not just an African State, Ethiopia is an ancient African civilization.” Long ago, I said, “Ethiopia is a civilization NOT a country.” In its most concise form, the MEGA Project/Campaign means: Make Ethiopia great again by replacing ethnic division with Ethiopiawinet, war with dialogue, arbitrary power with constitutional rule, poverty with prosperity, and political despair with national confidence. 𝐌𝐲 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐀 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥-𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐥 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐦, 𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐭𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐚’𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐈𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐚 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐰𝐚𝐫, 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐦, 𝐩𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟑-𝐏𝐬: 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝐌𝐲 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐀 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭/𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫𝐬. First, it is a civic-nationalist project: Ethiopia should be understood as a shared political community rather than merely a collection of competing ethnic constituencies. Ethiopians must always strive to maintain their civic lives guided by the principle: “Ethiopian solutions to Ethiopian problems using dialogue and homegrown traditional dispute resolution mechanisms, and never resort to violence.” Second, it is a democratic-constitutional project: national unity must be accompanied by rights, accountable institutions, free political participation, and limits on state power. Third, it is a developmental and sovereignty project: Ethiopia must overcome poverty and dependency while building its own homegrown economic and institutional capacity to act independently and Medemer-Ethiopiawinet: The Ideological Foundation of MEGA The ideological foundation of the MEGA Project is Medemer-Ethiopiawinet—a shared Ethiopian civic identity that transcends ethnic, regional, religious, and linguistic divisions. Medemer is an Ethiopian political philosophy meaning “synergy,” “togetherness,” or “coming together.” Medemer-Ethiopiawinet is a worldview, a philosophy, a way of life, and an action-oriented approach to transforming Ethiopian society. It emphasizes cooperation over zero-sum competition and seeks to build national unity by bringing Ethiopia’s diverse ethnic, religious, and political communities together. Ethiopiawinet does not mean erasing Ethiopia’s diversity. Rather, it means recognizing the equal dignity of all Ethiopians within a common national framework. Medemer-Ethiopiawinet replaces ethnic antagonism with national solidarity. It rejects domination by any ethnic group. It respects regional, cultural, linguistic, and religious identities. It builds a political community in which citizenship is more important than ethnic allegiance. It restores pride in being Ethiopian. It is about bringing different political groups, regions, ethnic communities, institutions, and levels of government to cooperate around common national interests, even when they disagree on particular issues. Medemer-Ethiopiawinet is also about national economic synergy, bringing people, resources, institutions, infrastructure, businesses, and regions to complement one another to create shared prosperity. It is about political synergy, bringing different political groups, regions, ethnic communities, institutions, and levels of government to cooperate around common national interests, even when they disagree on particular issues. Therefore, Ethiopia should remain diverse, but its diversity should serve a common national purpose rather than become a permanent basis for political competition. Rejecting Toxic Identity Politics, Embracing National-Unity Politics The MEGA Project rejects toxic identity politics. The Project believes political entrepreneurs have used ethnicity, historical grievance, and fear to mobilize communities against one another. Medemer-Ethiopiawinet offers a sound and practical alternative. We make Ethiopia great again through dialogue, debate, negotiation, compromise, reconciliation, equal citizenship, and a shared national interest. The MEGA Project recognizes ethnic identities exist, but stands strongly against those who seek to weaponize to justify exclusion, violence, territorial antagonism, or political domination. Ethiopia should replace toxic identity politics with national-unity politics (Medemer-Ethiopiawinet) grounded in dialogue and compromise, while building a pluralistic society under the rule of law and protection of individual rights. From the Barrel of the Gun to the Power of Dialogue A central pillar of the MEGA Project is the replacement of armed struggle with peaceful political competition. Ethiopia has two options: stay the current course of violence, revenge, displacement, and political destruction and suffer the prophetic catastrophe of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.: “We must learn to live together as brothers or perish together as fools.” Or choose the path of dialogue, reconciliation, compromise, and nation and institution-building. As Dr. King said, “In a real sense, all life is inter-related. All men are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.” 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐀 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍. The days of “Power grows out of the barrel of the gun” are gone. Power in the 21st century grows out of dialogue between well-intentioned patriotic citizens sitting in dialogue with each other in good faith and good will. Change must not be sought through the clash and crash of guns but the clash of ideas in the hearts and minds of the Ethiopian people. Political disagreements must be resolved through public deliberation and lawful institutions rather than through the gun. The MEGA Project supports ending cycles of civil war and insurgency and addressing the root causes of conflict. It promotes negotiating with armed adversaries at the table, far, far away from the battlefield. It supports transitional justice and reconciliation. It supports integrating legitimate traditional conflict-resolution mechanisms into the modern legal order. Constitutional Supremacy and the Rule of Law The MEGA Project is not merely a patriotic or developmental slogan. It has a strong constitutional and legal foundation. The MEGA Project believes in constitutional supremacy, equality before the law, independent courts, due process, accountability of public officials, separation of powers, protection of civil and human rights, transparency in government, and limits on arbitrary state power. The Project distinguishes genuine rule of law from “rule by law,” in which governments use legislation as an instrument of control while remaining effectively above legal accountability. This means that a great Ethiopia cannot simply be powerful or economically successful. It must also be a country in which government is restrained by law and citizens possess enforceable rights. Democratic and Accountable Politics The MEGA Project promotes democratic and accountable politics. It promotes genuine multiparty democracy. It believes in democratic government with popular sovereignty: citizens should choose their leaders through credible elections and hold them accountable afterward. The democratic elements of MEGA include competitive multiparty elections, free political participation, electoral accountability, freedom of responsible expression and media, transparency in decision-making, institutional checks on executive authority, and political discourse focused on national construction rather than personal destruction. Democracy is not a magical solution to Ethiopia’s problems. It is a continuing process through which citizens delegate power for limited periods under constitutional rules and can remove leaders who fail to serve the public. An Inclusive Political Order and Process The MEGA Project promotes an inclusive political order and process in which no community is permanently excluded, subordinated, or treated as an enemy of the state. It believes in inclusion of political opponents, reconciliation among historically divided communities, protection of minorities, participation of women and youth, engagement with the Ethiopian diaspora, recognition of marginalized groups and public culture based on civility rather than hatred. The Material Dimension: Overcoming Poverty and Underdevelopment The MEGA Project also has a material dimension. Ethiopia must overcome poverty, illiteracy, disease, unemployment, displacement, and underdevelopment. National renewal requires infrastructure development, agricultural and industrial growth, energy production, innovation and knowledge, entrepreneurship, job creation, improved public services, better opportunities for young people, and long-term national development planning. The MEGA Project is not only about recovering historical pride. It is also about building a productive, prosperous, technologically capable, and economically independent Ethiopia. Sovereignty and Homegrown Solutions The MEGA Project strongly connects Ethiopian greatness with sovereignty. Ethiopia should defend its territorial integrity, national unity, independent decision-making, and dignity in international affairs. We make Ethiopia great again by protecting Ethiopia’s sovereignty, resisting external efforts to dictate its political choices, rejecting international double standards, defending Ethiopia’s right to development, preserving national unity, maintaining control over strategic resources and national projects, and above all making sure she has full autonomous sea access. The MEGA Project is fundamentally anchored in peace as both its diplomatic approach and the cornerstone of Ethiopia’s foreign policy. The Project believes peace is not merely the absence of war; it is the active pursuit of dialogue, reconciliation, and compromise as the primary instruments of statecraft. The Project envisions Ethiopia as the engine of regional prosperity, leveraging its strategic location, vast resources, and youthful population to foster trade, infrastructure development, and shared growth across the Horn of Africa. The Project’s vision is not merely of an Ethiopia that is great for its own people but for the entire region. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐀 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐯𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐚’𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥, 𝐬𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐭𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐𝟎 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟑. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐀 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲—𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬—𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐚’𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐞𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭. The MEGA Project believes in homegrown indigenous solutions. Its guiding motto is, “Ethiopian solutions to Ethiopian problems.” Ethiopia should choose external solutions and best practices eclectically. Ethiopians should draw on their own traditional systems of Gadaa, Shimgilina, Xeer, Afersata, Dubusha, Abo Gereb, Zewold, the Fetha Negest, and many other traditional practices of consultation and reconciliation. These traditions are not replacements for modern constitutional institutions. They should be used to enrich modern governance by providing culturally legitimate methods of mediation, accountability, participation, and conflict resolution. In this sense, MEGA is both modernizing and historically restorative: Ethiopia should use contemporary democratic and constitutional principles while drawing strength from its own indigenous political traditions. Youth-Led National Renaissance The MEGA Project believes in youth-led national renaissance. Ethiopia’s future is in the hands of the young generation, the “Cheetah Generation” or “Abo Shemane” generation. Young Ethiopians are capable of ending inherited political divisions, rejecting authoritarianism and violence, leading national reconciliation, introducing innovation and entrepreneurship, rebuilding institutions, and creating a future-oriented national identity. Youth are not merely beneficiaries of MEGA. They are its principal agents. The younger generation must assume responsibility for rescuing Ethiopia from the accumulated failures of older political elites. Moral Transformation of Public Leadership The MEGA Project believes in moral transformation of public leadership. Leaders must be humble, honest, disciplined, service-oriented, and committed to the public interest. The Project associates good leadership with integrity, accountability, transparency, humility, service to citizens, opposition to corruption and abuse of power, and merit-based public administration. The National Dialogue agenda similarly includes corruption control, good governance, and a merit-based civil service. State capacity cannot be built if public office is treated as a source of private enrichment or ethnic patronage. The National Dialogue Recommendations: Ethiopia’s “Great Charter” As I have recently argued, the Recommendations of the Dialogue Conference potentially can provide a foundation for a new social compact between citizens and government. It could become an Ethiopian equivalent of a “Great Charter” (Magna Carta) defining what citizens expect from government, the obligations it owes its people, how political power should be exercised, how institutions should be made accountable, how constitutional and institutional reforms should be carried out, and how citizens can participate in shaping national policy. The Recommendations must not remain a symbolic report. It should be translated into constitutional amendments, legislation, institutional reforms, and public policies capable of surviving changes of government. President Kenyatta advised, “If you want to go far, go together. 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧. 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬! 𝐋𝐞𝐭’𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐥𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫 -- 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 -- 𝐭𝐨 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐀 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍. 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐮𝐬 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐀 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞; 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞. 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐮𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐧, 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞: “𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐲! 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲𝐛𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐀 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍.” 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐮𝐬 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐀 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 —𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝. 𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐚❤️ @PMEthiopia @AbiyAhmedAli @TagessechaffoD @AdanechAbiebie @TayeAtske @GHessebon @SMHaderaAbera @mfaethiopia @_AfricanUnion @USEmbassyAddis @DeputySecState @StateDept @marcorubio @VP @PeteHegseth @ChinaEmbAddis @USAfricaCommand @GovernmentRF @EUinEthiopia @RusEmbEthiopia @binalf7 @MfaEgypt @TemesgenTiru @uhuruKE #Kenya #Ethiopia #AddisAbaba @UKinEthiopia @EUinEthiopia @GerEmbAddis @BelgiumAddis @TiborPNagyJr @NorwayinAddis @AusEmbET @SweinEthiopia @flyethiopian @AlsisiOfficial @RedwanHussien #Somaliland #Egypt #Eritrea #Somalia @MOFASomalia @reda_getachew @EthiopianNewsA @EthioNDC @theVillaSomalia #Djibouti @cnni @BBCAfrica @CNNAfrica @BloombergAfrica @Aljazeerafrican @EgyptPRNewYork @emirates @HHShkMohd @AlArabiya_Brk @AlHadath...

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @batseba_Tigray The genocider #Ethiopian state is drone striking #Tigray on a daily basis. Yet the #InternationalCommunity is sending empty statements. #StopBombingTigray @EUinEthiopia @US_AU

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @DilNaodA The irony is almost too much. Abiy Ahmed’s government brought Eritrean troops into Ethiopia’s war against Tigray, fought alongside them, and only acknowledged their presence after initially denying it. Now the same political camp is screaming “TREASON” because Tigrayans may seek foreign backing against Abiy. So apparently, inviting a foreign army into Ethiopia is “national security” when Abiy does it—but “treason” when his opponents do it. PP camp is the master of treason....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @TeshaleMariam Egypt ranks among the few regimes whose foreign policy is built on deliberate destabilization, crimes against humanity and its neighbours. Look at Sudan. Look at Eritrea. Look at Libya. Then look at what it has done - and continues to try to do - to 🇪🇹. Multiple attempts to attack 🇪🇹 were crushed by Ethiopian forces. Undeterred, Cairo switched to proxies, mercenaries, and internal division - funding and organising violence inside Ethiopia itself. It has spent decades lobbying, and blocking every major project on the Abbay (Blue Nile) or any other 🇪🇹n river. The GERD itself was studied by American engineers under Emperor Haile Silassie. Egypt's pressure on international organisations, monetary institutions, and governments delayed it for generations. The same pattern produced the catastrophic famine of the 1960s-70s and the separation of Eritrea - a strategic move to push 🇪🇹 away from the Red Sea. The goal has never changed: force 🇪🇹 to sign away control of its own water and resources. The leadership in Cairo still has not learned. Now the blowback is here. Cairo's economy is cracking. Inflation is crushing households. Living standards are in free fall while the same leadership still schemes against 🇪🇹. The aggressor is paying the price. 🇪🇹 stands. Egypt's ppl suffer under the regime that prefered regional wars over feeding its own. They never learn. Yet the International Community stays silent on these crimes against humanity. Why? Because Egypt's strategic leverage - Suez, alliance, lobbying, and bribes buy protection. It has weaponized that leverage to drag the Abbay (GERD) issue into the UN Security Council again and again, framing a sovereign 🇪🇹n development project as a threat to "International peace." The UN is operating outside its mandate. Transboundary water and a hydropower dam are not a chapter VII crises. Such issues belong under African Union or technical forums not the Security Council. This is pure pressure politics not justice. 🇪🇹 does not bend. Cairo is reaping what it sowed....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....

RT @Yonigussie Another Ethiopian Drone Attack Reported In Tigray BREAKING: Today, Ethiopia’s Air Force carried out yet another drone strike in #Tigray, reportedly hitting a former Sur Construction camp in Felegeweyni Kebele (Atsbi Wemberta, Eastern Tigray), causing significant property damage. https://t.co/hZaHKzfHuk...

RT @ForgottenWarPic There was a battalion in the Korean War that fought in more than two hundred battles and never lost one, that never had a single man taken prisoner, and that never once left a wounded or dead soldier behind on the field. Not one. They came from Ethiopia, and almost nobody in the West has ever heard of them. When the United Nations called for help defending South Korea, one of the countries that answered was Ethiopia, sent by its emperor, Haile Selassie. And he did not send just anybody. He sent men drawn from his own Imperial Bodyguard, the elite palace guard, formed into units called the Kagnew Battalions, named after a famous war horse of the emperor's own family. Over the course of the war, more than three thousand Ethiopians served in Korea, half a world from home, in a frozen country most of them had never imagined. What they did there is the stuff of legend, and the numbers are almost hard to believe. Across roughly two hundred and thirty eight engagements, the Kagnew Battalions never lost a battle. Not one defeat in the entire war. But the truly astonishing part is the other statistic. Not a single Ethiopian soldier was ever captured by the North Koreans or the Chinese. In a war where thousands of prisoners were taken on all sides, where being captured was a constant reality, the Ethiopians simply never allowed it to happen. And it was tied to a code they held to absolutely. They never left a man behind, ever, alive or dead. If a soldier fell, his comrades brought him back, no matter the cost, even if it meant fighting their way back into enemy fire to recover a body. Because they refused to leave anyone, the enemy was never able to take anyone, and there were no Ethiopian prisoners and no Ethiopian missing. They accounted for every single one of their own. That discipline earned them a fearsome reputation. American and other UN troops who fought alongside them were in awe. The enemy came to dread them. They fought right through to the end of the war, including in the brutal final battles like Pork Chop Hill in 1953. They paid for it, over a hundred killed and hundreds more wounded, but every one of those men came home to their unit, none left in enemy hands, none abandoned on a hill. And then history mostly forgot them. The Ethiopian contribution to Korea is barely a footnote in most Western accounts of the war. Back home, later political upheavals in Ethiopia meant many of these veterans were neglected or even persecuted rather than honored. The men who never left a comrade behind were, in a sense, left behind by memory itself. But South Korea has not entirely forgotten. There are memorials and gestures of gratitude to the Ethiopians who came from across the world to fight for a country they had never seen. A battalion of warriors who won every battle, lost no man to capture, and carried every single one of their own back home, and who deserve to be remembered far better than they are....