Robert Bruce Adolph

I came home from Bucha with the faces of the dead fixed in my mind and a single, stubborn question riding shotgun: how do we make Putin and his enablers answer for what they did?

I warned them it was only a matter of time before we were attacked—but nobody listened, and twenty-two people paid the price.

Having walked the dusty camps of Gaza and the corridors of Israeli power alike, one can conclude that this conflict isn’t about religion—it’s about land, politics, and the human cost of indifference.

Mines don’t care if the war is over—they wait, hidden and patient, to turn a child’s step or a farmer’s plow into another casualty long after the ceasefire is signed.

The war in Afghanistan wasn’t lost in the dust of Helmand or the peaks of Kunar—it was fumbled in the Oval Office by a president who mistook nation-building for strategy and arrogance for resolve.

Drones aren’t the future of warfare—they’re the present, and anyone not paying attention is already a step behind.

When a president demands loyalty to himself rather than to the Constitution, he breaks the pact that underpins American civil-military relations—and leaves the military with an impossible choice.

Trump’s lust for confrontation has overridden prudence, plunging America into another conflict with no justification, no congressional approval, and no clear endgame—just echoes of past blunders cloaked in fresh arrogance.