Featured

Vice Admiral Cooper is doing more than charting a new course for CENTCOM—he’s steering the whole ship through the storm with a steady hand and his eyes wide open.

He didn’t die a misunderstood young man—he died a coward who lured heroes into the woods and shot them in the back.

Roy Benavidez wasn’t awarded the Medal of Honor because he was fearless—he earned it because he was wounded, outgunned, and still chose to charge straight into hell to bring his brothers home.

Mercy dogs didn’t need orders, medals, or parades—they just saw a man bleeding in the mud and ran straight into gunfire to help him.

President Trump calls it a knockout blow, but early intelligence suggests Iran’s nuclear program may have only taken a standing eight count.

Bligh’s not your typical Pentagon paper-pusher—he’s the kind of guy who knows how to draft a legal brief in the morning and call for close air support by noon.

When the missiles came and the sky turned hostile, it wasn’t doctrine or diplomacy that held the line—it was a handful of twenty something Americans with steady hands and nerves of steel.

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.

If Hezbollah’s grip on Lebanon finally breaks, it won’t just redraw maps in the Middle East—it could rewrite the calculus of American security, from Beirut to your local gas pump.

When the mission calls for shutting down a nuclear nightmare before it starts, the Army’s Nuclear Disablement Teams are the specialized warfighters slipping in through the back door with brains, guts, guns, and a Geiger counter.

Admiral Daryl Caudle isn’t coming to polish brass or shuffle paper—he’s showing up with a warfighter’s résumé, a submariner’s grit, and a battle plan to drag the Navy out of bureaucratic drydock and back into fighting trim.

Trump’s big, brash ceasefire rolled off the runway like a flaming shopping cart—loud, chaotic, and destined to explode before anyone could say “mission accomplished.”