War Stories

My first platoon sergeant committed the biggest war crime since Vietnam—and I was his platoon leader. Here’s how I got there.

Rangers on Ambien at 36,000 feet—sleepwalking, eating unpeeled oranges, and even climbing the C-17 mid-flight.

Hanging by a cheek on an MH-6 Little Bird, a sniper recalls the cold, chaos, and grit of flying with the Night Stalkers.

In the desert’s crucible, where ego burned away, I discovered that truth itself could be the strongest shield a man might carry.

Chuck was the kind of man who’d tell you he was a nice guy, and damn if he didn’t prove it every time, right up until the day the universe decided it was done with him.

I climbed the stairs with my heart hammering, every step a reminder that being unarmed in a gunfight is a special kind of helpless.

Grief moved at fast forward as young Soldiers bore loss with dignity, proving war’s pain can unite hearts in love and resilience.

We idled through Al Dujahl’s midnight arteries, numb and hollow, while men in the shadows watched us like witnesses at the thin border between heaven and hell.

Fred B. McGee wasn’t chasing glory on that Korean hillside—he was just stubbornly, relentlessly doing his job, one impossible step at a time, until every man he could save was off that mountain alive.

In Ukraine’s war, Elon Musk’s satellites shifted from lifeline to leverage, and that power—once a gift—became a weapon of his choosing.

We thought drone warfare would be the future—turns out, it was the present all along, and we just didn’t recognize the buzz of change until it hovered over the tree line, camera rolling.

With some time to kill, the German offered me a seat in the hotel cafe where a dozen Bundeswehr soldiers were hanging out. They even gave me an espresso.