Category: War Stories

In the stillness between IED craters and ambush points, barefoot children in sunlit fields reminded us—without knowing—that peace still dared to exist.

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.

Beneath the corrugated shadows of the Taji Market, where farmers and fanatics shared the same dust, we moved—alert, measured, and unwilling to let the chaos define us.

Brandon Webb’s life reads like a classified op with footnotes in blood and saltwater—equal parts sniper, author, surf rat, and entrepreneurial insurgent.

Captain William McGonagle didn’t just hold the line aboard the USS Liberty—he held it while bleeding out, commanding a shattered crew through hell, and then kept his mouth shut for thirty years before finally telling the truth.

Established on June 19, 1952 under the leadership of Colonel Aaron Bank, the 10th Special Forces Group (Airborne) marked the beginning of the Green Berets’ distinguished service.

Under Saddam, theft wasn’t a crime—it was the national business model, sanctified by fear, filmed for posterity, and sold back to the people like a bad memory on repeat.

Woody Williams didn’t just carry a flamethrower into the jaws of hell—he carried the weight of his fallen brothers, and somehow kept walking.

I joined the Navy chasing a SEAL dream, got detoured into Search and Rescue by a well-meaning but clueless recruiter, and ended up earning my place in one of the toughest, most elite programs in the fleet — all while figuring out manhood, loyalty, and what it means to save someone who once saved you.

The entry-level training course at the unit was several months long and very tedious, with strict rules governing performance; violation of the performance standard was taken in all seriousness and was ground for dismissal.

Bob Denard didn’t just survive the post-colonial chaos of Africa—he thrived in it, turning coup-making into a career and casting a long shadow where state power met mercenary ambition.

Theodore Roosevelt Jr. didn’t just carry his father’s famous name ashore on D-Day—he carried the fight, a cane, and the kind of guts that turned chaos into victory.