Brandon Webb

America isn’t a dream anymore; it’s a rigged casino where grocery lists read like defense contracts, your rent notice is a hostage note, and the house will keep winning until we break the machine.

Putin isn’t negotiating; he’s conditioning Trump and the West, running the clock while we admire the smile of a card shark who owns the table.

At one point during the service, a friend led Hawkeye, JT’s faithful chocolate Lab, to the military casket sat draped with its American flag.

I didn’t teach Kamal to swim; I taught him to harness fear until it pulled him across ten feet of water like a tide he commanded.

It amazed me how often I saw SEAL sniper students make the stalk successfully, set up position for firing with time to spare, but never take the shot.

When a televised roll call of admirals replaces a clear mission, you know the brass has swollen, the bureaucracy is smothering the fight, and our rivals are happy to watch us polish our parade skills while they sharpen their knives.

Marcus Luttrell was the lone survivor of Operation Red Wings, an operation that went sideways, resulting in the loss of 19 servicemembers.

America isn’t losing its edge to Moscow or Beijing—it’s bleeding it out on the battlefield of bathroom debates and Twitter tantrums.

And now here I was, just days away from graduating boot camp, trying to figure out how the hell to get myself on the track to BUD/S.

If there was no average, no pathetic, then there would be nothing against which to measure excellence and excellence lies at the heart of greatness.

A 200-yard rooftop shot sounds daunting, but physics, control, and wind call the play. Here’s how trained marksmen break it down.

Chaos at home? Navy SEAL sniper tactics can help you raise confident, joyful kids with calm, focus, and discipline.