War Stories

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.

The war of terror is not fought with bombs or bullets, but in the human heart, where fear seeks to claim ground that only we can choose to surrender.

When the courtyard turned into a killing ground at Baghdad Airport, Paul R. Smith climbed into the turret, took the fight on his shoulders, and made damn sure his men walked away alive.

Vegas may be a city that never sleeps, but that day, standing in front of Chainsaw with his broken cane and unwavering grin, I knew that some connections run deeper than any lights, noise, or the ghosts we carry in our heads.

Chainsaw took that round like he took everything in life—head-on, with a laugh and a quick curse, pushing forward while the rest of us wondered how he was still standing.

Years of envy and humiliation had hardened into a poverty of consciousness, where cruelty was mistaken for devotion and crime disguised itself as holy war.

Russia will not break me, and I will carry the fight against its lies and brutality wherever I can.

Paris Davis proved that real leadership isn’t about chasing medals, but about carrying your men through hell and refusing to let history forget it.

From singing to goats to reenacting Disney scenes, soldiers find humor and absurdity to survive the long, boring hours between the battles.

In Panjwai, I faced the fallout of my sergeant’s massacre—soldiers aged by war, daily Taliban attacks, and a burden I could never erase.

Nightmares follow veterans home. We survive the war, but the aftermath—the trauma, the memories—stays with us every day.

Beneath the chaos of Afghanistan, my trusted platoon sergeant turned into the man behind the deadliest U.S. war crime since Vietnam.