In the post, the clip kicks off a high-energy mashup of scenes from popular movies and TV shows cut together with real-world footage of U.S. military strikes against Iran.

The video was one of six posts Friday on the White House’s social media accounts that liberally pulled snippets from popular films, TV shows, sports events and music — running the gamut from AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck” to SpongeBob SquarePants — and paired the clips with footage of Operation Epic Fury.

Among them: a scene featuring Master Chief, the iconic character from the long-running “Halo” video game series. In the short clip, Master Chief says he’s “finishing this fight.”

JUSTICE THE AMERICAN WAY. 🇺🇸🔥 pic.twitter.com/0502N6a3rL

— The White House (@WhiteHouse) March 6, 2026

But over the weekend, actors and others involved in some of the projects shown in the clips condemned the White House’s hype videos.

Steve Downes, the actor who voices Master Chief, in particular, was none too happy about it, and said he did not endorse the use of his voice or agree to be involved.

“I demand that the producers of this disgusting and juvenile war porn remove my voice immediately,” he posted on X on Sunday.

pic.twitter.com/JODHpTiAYo

— Steve Downes (@SteveDownes117) March 8, 2026

“Tropic Thunder” actor and director Ben Stiller also called for the video to be pulled down. A clip of Tom Cruise from the 2008 film appears in the post.

“Hey White House, please remove the Tropic Thunder clip. We never gave you permission and have no interest in being a part of your propaganda machine. War is not a movie,” Stiller wrote in a post on X on Friday.

Hey White House, please remove the Tropic Thunder clip. We never gave you permission and have no interest in being a part of your propaganda machine. War is not a movie. https://t.co/dMQqRxxVCa

— Ben Stiller (@BenStiller) March 6, 2026

The Trump administration has often ignored calls from artists to remove their content from its messaging.

After singer Kesha posted on social media last week condemning the use of her song “Blow” in a White House video, White House communications director Steven Cheung wrote in a post on X, “All these ‘singers’ keep falling for this. This just gives us more attention and more view counts to our videos because people want to see what they’re bitching about.”

Directed by Patrick Hughes, “War Machine” follows a group of Ranger candidates grinding through the final stretch of selection when their training scenario collides with something far stranger than sleep deprivation and land navigation. The soldiers discover what appears to be a crashed aircraft deep in the woods. It turns out to be an alien vessel that transforms into a towering mechanical hunter and begins stalking them through the forest.

For veterans watching the film, the most unrealistic part may not be the extraterrestrial robot — it is the fact that nobody immediately assumes the alien is still part of the training scenario.

Anyone who has spent time in the military knows that after enough time in the field, every disaster begins to feel suspiciously like a test. Lost? Training. Hungry? Training. Cold, wet, exhausted and hallucinating? Definitely training. If a giant alien machine emerged from a crash site during Ranger selection, at least one candidate would absolutely ask, “Is this graded?”

Ritchson plays a soldier known only as “81,” which feels exactly like the kind of nickname that would replace an actual name during a miserable training cycle. The character is built like a tank and carries the quiet intensity that helped turn Ritchson into a breakout star in the series “Reacher.” Here, his opponent is not organized crime or a corrupt businessman-turned-warlord, but a massive extraterrestrial war machine with the personality of a bulldozer.

Critics have described the film as a blend of “Predator” and “Transformers,” which is a polite way of saying nobody is going to win an Oscar for this film, but the explosions and over-the-top special effects might. The movie moves quickly through its premise and settles into a simple survival formula. A group of soldiers is trapped in unfamiliar terrain, hunted by something unseen. Their only real plan is to stay alive long enough to figure out how to destroy it.

It is not complicated storytelling. It is also not pretending to be.

That honesty helps the movie. Instead of delivering long speeches about military ethics or global consequences, “War Machine” focuses on the basics. The soldiers run, hide, shoot and occasionally argue about what the machine actually is while trying to reach the next ridgeline.

In that sense, the movie occasionally feels less like a traditional war film and more like a live-action video game level. The team advances through a series of encounters while trying to discover the alien machine’s weak point. Eventually, that responsibility lands on Ritchson’s character, who begins experimenting with ways to damage the machine using whatever equipment the soldiers still have left, blank firing adapters included.

Is the movie perfect? No. Is it so cringe at points that you find yourself wanting more? Yes.

While “War Machine” treats the final field exercise like a chaotic survival event, real training environments are far more controlled and deliberate. Ranger selection, for example, is designed to push soldiers through exhaustion and uncertainty without actually turning the woods into a sci-fi battlefield.

The movie does not aim for that kind of realism. Instead, it asks a simpler question: What would happen if soldiers trained to survive brutal field exercises suddenly had to apply those same skills to an alien invasion?

The answer, according to “War Machine,” is that they would probably treat it like any other mission.

They would form a plan.

They would start shooting.

And someone in the formation would still wonder if the whole thing was being graded.

For years, military narratives on screen have gravitated toward spectacle or trauma. Either elite raids and explosions, or the aftermath: PTSD, divorce, isolation. What gets squeezed out is the middle ground — bureaucracy, boredom and dark humor — where most service members actually live.

Three veterans now working in television say that changes when people who have worn the uniform are inside the writers’ room, shaping the story from page one.

Greg Cope White, a Marine veteran and longtime television writer, built a decades-long career after leaving active duty. His memoir, “The Pink Marine,” later became the basis for the Netflix coming-of-age series “Boots,” about a closeted gay teenager enlisting in the Marine Corps in the ’90s.

Veterans are often misunderstood in writers’ rooms, White told Military Times in a recent interview.

“One of the things veterans might fear about going into the writers’ room is that that’s all the experience people are going to want from them,” he said. “Just give me the military stuff and shut up.

“That’s not what I have found at all.”

For White, the value of veterans extends far beyond accuracy. “Our worldview is instantly expanded the day we enlisted,” he said. “We saw things, and we’re exposed to people and situations that a normal college-age student wouldn’t be exposed to.”

That exposure influences tone and informs how characters handle pressure. It shapes what feels authentic when a unit fractures or rallies on screen.

When working on “Boots,” authenticity mattered, but not as trivia. “You don’t want something like someone in their dress blues with scruff. That’s going to take a lot of people out right there,” White said.

For “Boots” story editor Megan Ferrell Burke, a Marine veteran who served from 2007 to 2011 and deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan as a direct air support officer, authenticity debates often collide with visual storytelling.

Hollywood is a visual medium, noted Burke, who, after leaving the Corps, worked her way through assistant roles on “Army Wives,” served as a writers’ assistant on the World War II drama “Manhattan” and was staffed on “Outlander.” Sometimes what is correct is not what reads best on camera.

In “Boots,” for example, recruits were scripted to sit on their packs during a break, as they would in real life. On set, production placed them on logs.

“In any sort of universe, recruits would not be sitting on logs and talking,” Burke said. “But who cares? It’s so much better visually.”

For her, the issue is not perfection; it is intention. “I’m very okay with being inaccurate,” she said. “I just want to know when we’re being inaccurate, and I want to make that choice actively.”

Burke said she braced for backlash from veteran viewers over creative choices in “Boots,” including decisions about timeline accuracy. Instead, she found that many viewers accepted the show’s choices once they understood they were deliberate.

Over her 15 years in the industry, Burke said she has seen shifts in how military stories are framed. Early portrayals often defaulted to stoic archetypes. Later, she said, many projects focused almost exclusively on trauma.

“If you look out on the landscape and look for the stories of well-adjusted veterans, they’re a little bit harder to come by,” she said.

Burke does not dismiss PTSD narratives. “It is incredibly important to advocate for the very real experiences of service members dealing with trauma,” she said. But she believes the picture is incomplete.

“I feel like I’m the best version of myself because of the experience that I had,” she said.

Joshua Katz, a Navy veteran who served from 1999 to 2003 as a gunner’s mate and missile technician, entered the industry through multiple avenues, including stunt work, tactical consulting and writers’ room support. He worked as a showrunner’s assistant on the CBS sitcom “United States of Al” and later founded Katzmar Tactical Consulting with his spouse, also a Navy veteran.

Katz offered a more direct assessment of Hollywood’s priorities.

“They care about one thing, and that’s making a profit,” he said.

In his experience, veteran status may help secure a meeting, but it does not guarantee advancement. “It will never be because you’re a veteran,” he said. “It opens the door, but it doesn’t necessarily push you through it.”

Still, Katz credited certain showrunners with fostering supportive environments and taking veteran perspectives seriously when storylines demanded it.

He also pointed to story gaps he believes remain underexplored.

“You don’t see below decks,” he said of Navy life. “It’s almost always from an officer’s perspective.”

He would like to see more character-driven stories set in military environments without defaulting to combat or scandal. He also cited the VA hospital as a compelling setting where veterans from different eras intersect.

Across all three writers, humor emerged as a defining difference. Veterans understand that laughter often exists alongside stress, not in spite of it.

“It’s the only way I can tell my story,” White said of using comedy to frame his experience.

Humor, he argued, allows audiences unfamiliar with military life to enter the world without being overwhelmed. “There’s nothing more hilarious than that frailty of the human condition,” he said.

For those considering the leap from the uniform to the writers’ room, none of the three offered easy encouragement.

“It is not a career for the faint of heart,” Burke said. “The good times are great, and the bad times are really hard.”

White urged writers to focus on craft. “Write the story you want to tell,” he said, rather than chasing what seems marketable.

Katz emphasized persistence and preparation. “You’ve got to have the writing sample to go with it,” he said. “It’s never going to be just because you’re a veteran.”

When veterans become writers, war stories shift. The story moves toward lived ambiguity, and service is not reduced to a single narrative.

The difference is not cosmetic. It is tonal. And audiences, especially those who have served, can tell.

The Meal, Ready-to-Eat, better known as the MRE, was designed for war. It had to survive heat, cold, impact and time. It had to deliver calories and consistency in places where kitchens did not exist. And it had to do all of that at scale.

Sound familiar?

Today’s meal-delivery industry, from subscription kits to fully prepared microwavable trays, operates on many of the same principles: Portion control, modular packaging and optimized logistics. Veterans who open a cardboard box filled with premeasured ingredients often recognize the parallels immediately.

The evolution of military rations shows just how deliberate that system became. From older field staples to modern retort pouches, MREs were engineered to balance durability and nutrition. A look back at MREs through the years illustrates how packaging and contents changed to meet operational demands. Meals had to withstand long storage and rough transport while still delivering predictable fuel.

That predictability is central.

Each MRE is structured around caloric requirements and mission profiles. A standard menu includes an entree, side, snack, dessert, beverage powder and accessory packet. Nothing is random. It is a calculated intake designed to support performance.

Modern meal-delivery companies market the same precision. Protein totals are highlighted. Calorie counts are featured prominently. Macro breakdowns are listed like briefing slides. For service members who once identified meals by menu number rather than flavor description, the emphasis on data feels familiar.

Behind the scenes, the logistics mirror each other even more closely. Feeding deployed troops requires a supply chain that can move millions of individually packaged meals across continents. As recently as last year, the Department of Defense refined packaging dimensions, pallet configurations and distribution systems to reduce waste and maximize efficiency. Those lessons now underpin commercial food distribution networks that ship insulated boxes nationwide on strict timelines.

Inside the development process, the parallels become even clearer. Military food scientists test taste, texture and shelf life inside controlled environments before a menu ever reaches a unit. A visit to the kitchen where MREs are created shows how rigorously meals are evaluated for stability and performance. The civilian meal kit industry uses similar controlled testing to ensure consistency across thousands of shipments.

Convenience may be the most obvious link. MREs were built for speed. Open. Heat if you can. Eat if you cannot. No dishes, no prep, no grocery run. The civilian market reframed that efficiency as lifestyle optimization: 10-minute dinners with minimal cleanup and reduced food waste.

There is also a psychological component. Field rations were never just about calories; they provided routine. In austere environments, opening a sealed meal at a predictable time created a small anchor in an otherwise unstable day. Modern marketing leans on the same promise: reliability, dinner handled and one less decision to make.

Of course, today’s meal kits are designed for aesthetics and convenience, not survival in a combat zone. No one is building a subscription box around instant coffee and wheat bread snacks.

Still, the blueprint is unmistakable. Long before venture capital discovered the efficiency of meal delivery, the military had already tested the model under far harsher conditions.

For veterans, the comparison is less surprising than ironic. What once arrived in a case bound for a forward operating base now shows up with a friendly logo and a discount code.

In World War II, tobacco was not treated as a vice; it was a comfort item. Cigarettes were packed into rations as morale boosters, something that could steady nerves between missions, the Imperial War Museums note. The image of a soldier lighting up in a muddy trench or on the deck of a ship became inseparable from the mythology of the American warfighter. The phrase “smoke ‘em if you got ‘em” became a broader cultural idiom, according to the Army Historical Foundation.

That normalization lasted for generations. Smoking was woven into daily military life. A cigarette break punctuated patrols and long nights on guard duty. The smoke pit became a place where rank blurred slightly, and information flowed freely. For young troops far from home, nicotine offered routine in environments defined by uncertainty.

But the same institution that once distributed cigarettes eventually had to reckon with the consequences.

As medical research sharpened the link between tobacco use and long-term health problems, the Department of Defense shifted its posture. Smoking inside military facilities was banned in 1994, and recruits arriving at basic training found tighter restrictions around tobacco use than their predecessors.

In 2016, the Pentagon moved to eliminate discounted tobacco sales in on-base exchanges, raising prices to match civilian markets in an effort to remove financial incentives.

Despite that shift, nicotine use has not disappeared; it has adapted. A recent report found that soldiers are significantly more likely to use modern nicotine pouches than civilians, underscoring how quickly habits evolve inside the ranks.

Today’s service members are less likely to be seen with a cigarette and more likely to carry a vape or a can of tobacco-free nicotine pouches, which have been linked to oral and dental health issues and cardiovascular disease risk. Marketed as cleaner, smokeless and discreet, these products fit easily into field environments and office settings alike. They also sidestep some of the social stigma attached to traditional smoking.

The military has responded by expanding resources for quitting tobacco. Tricare covers tobacco cessation counseling and prescription medications, while military treatment facilities offer nicotine replacement therapy such as patches and gum. The Defense Department also promotes health coaching programs as part of its broader force health protection strategy.

Still, anyone who has served knows the smoke pit has not vanished. It remains a gathering place, a bond that only those who don the uniform can truly understand. It is where junior enlisted troops vent about leadership, where NCOs gauge morale and where small frustrations surface before they grow larger. In many units, stepping outside for a smoke remains one of the few unofficial breaks in a tightly structured day.

That cultural role complicates enforcement. Leaders must balance individual autonomy with readiness standards. Smoking and nicotine use are tied to higher injury rates, slower recovery times and long-term healthcare costs, all of which affect deployability. At the same time, troops operate under sustained stress, long hours and frequent moves. For some, nicotine functions as a coping mechanism that is accessible and socially reinforced.

The military’s relationship with tobacco reflects a broader evolution. What began as a morale staple, packed alongside rations, has become a regulated health concern measured against mission impact. The products may look different in 2026 than they did in 1945, but the underlying tension remains.

Duvall died “peacefully” at his home Sunday in Middleburg, Virginia, according to an announcement from his publicist and from a statement posted on his Facebook page by his wife, Luciana Duvall.

“To the world, he was an Academy Award-winning actor, a director, a storyteller. To me, he was simply everything,” Luciana Duvall wrote. “His passion for his craft was matched only by his deep love for characters, a great meal, and holding court. For each of his many roles, Bob gave everything to his characters and to the truth of the human spirit they represented.”

The bald, wiry Duvall didn’t have leading man looks, but few “character actors” enjoyed such a long, rewarding and unpredictable career, in leading and supporting roles, from an itinerant preacher to Josef Stalin. Beginning with his 1962 film debut as Boo Radley, the reclusive neighbor in “To Kill a Mockingbird,” Duvall created a gallery of unforgettable portrayals. They earned him seven Academy Award nominations and the best actor prize for “Tender Mercies,” which came out in 1983. He also won four Golden Globes, including one for playing the philosophical cattle-drive boss in the 1989 miniseries “Lonesome Dove,” a role he often cited as his favorite.

In 2005, Duvall was awarded a National Medal of Arts.

He had been acting for some 20 years when “The Godfather,” released in 1972, established him as one of the most in-demand performers of Hollywood. He had made a previous film, “The Rain People,” with Francis Coppola, and the director chose him to play Tom Hagen in the mafia epic that featured Al Pacino and Marlon Brando among others. Duvall was a master of subtlety as an Irishman among Italians, rarely at the center of a scene, but often listening and advising in the background, an irreplaceable thread through the saga of the Corleone crime family.

“Stars and Italians alike depend on his efficiency, his tidying up around their grand gestures, his being the perfect shortstop on a team of personality sluggers,” wrote the critic David Thomson. “Was there ever a role better designed for its actor than that of Tom Hagen in both parts of ‘The Godfather?’”

In another Coppola film, “Apocalypse Now,” Duvall was wildly out front, the embodiment of deranged masculinity as Lieutenant Colonel Bill Kilgore, who with equal vigor enjoyed surfing and bombing raids on the Viet Cong. Duvall required few takes for one of the most famous passages in movie history, barked out on the battlefield by a bare-chested, cavalry-hatted Kilgore: “I love the smell of napalm in the morning. You know, one time we had a hill bombed, for 12 hours. When it was all over, I walked up. We didn’t find one of ‘em, not one stinkin’ dink body.

“The smell, you know that gasoline smell, the whole hill. Smelled like — victory.”

Coppola once commented about Duvall: “Actors click into character at different times — the first week, third week. Bobby’s hot after one or two takes.”

Honored, but still hungry

He was Oscar-nominated as supporting actor for “The Godfather” and “Apocalypse Now,” but a dispute over money led him to turn down the third Godfather epic, a loss deeply felt by critics, fans and “Godfather” colleagues. Duvall would complain publicly about being offered less than his co-stars.

Fellow actors marveled at Duvall’s studious research and planning, and his coiled energy. Michael Caine, who co-starred with him in the 2003 “Secondhand Lions,” once told The Associated Press: “Before a big scene, Bobby just sits there, absolutely quiet; you know when not to talk to him.” Anyone who disturbed him would suffer the well-known Duvall temper, famously on display during the filming of the John Wayne Western “True Grit,” when Duvall seethed at director Henry Hathaway’s advice to “tense up” before a scene.

Duvall was awarded an Oscar in 1984 for his leading role as the troubled singer and songwriter Mac Sledge in “Tender Mercies,” a prize he accepted while clad in a cowboy tuxedo with Western tie. In 1998, he was nominated for best actor in “The Apostle,” a drama about a wayward Southern evangelist which he wrote, directed, starred in, produced and largely financed. With customary thoroughness, he visited dozens of country churches and spent 12 years writing the script and trying to get it made.

Among other notable roles: the outlaw gang leader who gets ambushed by John Wayne in “True Grit”; Jesse James in “The Great Northfield Minnesota Raid”; the pious and beleaguered Frank Burns in “M-A-S-H”; the TV hatchet man in “Network”; Dr. Watson in “The Seven-Per-Cent Solution”; and the sadistic father in “The Great Santini.”

“When I was doing ‘Colors’ in 1988 with Sean Penn, someone asked me how I do it all these years, keep it fresh. Well, if you don’t overwork, have some hobbies, you can do it and stay hungry even if you’re not really hungry,” Duvall told The Associated Press in 1990.

In his mid-80s, he received a supporting Oscar nomination as the title character of the 2014 release “The Judge,” in which he is accused of causing a death in a hit-and-run accident. More recent films included “Widows” and “12 Mighty Orphans.”

Ungifted in school, gifted on stage

Robert Selden Duvall grew up in the Navy towns of Annapolis and the San Diego area, where he was born in 1931. He spent time in other cities as his father, who rose to be an admiral, was assigned to various duties.

The boy’s experience helped in his adult profession as he learned the nuances of regional speech and observed the psyche of military men, which he would portray in several films.

Duvall reportedly used his Navy officer father as the basis for his portrayal of the explosive militarist in “The Great Santini,” based on the Pat Conroy novel. He commented in 2003: “My dad was a gentleman but a seether, a stern, blustery guy, and away a lot of the time.” Bobby took after his mother, an amateur actress, in playing a guitar and performing. He was a wrestler like his father and enjoyed besting kids older than himself.

He lacked the concentration for schoolwork and nearly flunked out of Principia College in Elsah, Illinois. His despairing parents decided he needed something to keep him in college so he wouldn’t be drafted for the Korean War. “They recommended acting as an expedient thing to get through,” he recalled. “I’m glad they did.” He flourished in drama classes.

“Way back when I was in college,” Duvall told the AP in 1990, “there was a wonderful man named Frank Parker, who had been a dancer in World War I. We did a full-length mime play and I played a Harlequin clown. I really liked that.

“Then, I played an older guy in ‘All My Sons,’ and at one point I had this emotional moment, where this emotion was pouring out. Parker said at that moment he didn’t think acting can be carried any further than that. And this guy was a very critical guy. So I thought, at that moment at least, this is what I wanted to do.”

After two years in the Army, he used the G.I. Bill to finance his studies at the Neighborhood Playhouse in New York, hanging out with such other young hopefuls as Robert Morse, Gene Hackman and Dustin Hoffman. After a one-night performance in “A View From the Bridge,” Duvall began getting offers for work in TV series, among them “The Naked City” and “The Defenders.”

Between his high-paying jobs in major productions, Duvall devoted himself to directing personal projects: a documentary about a prairie family, “We’re Not the Jet Set”; a film about gypsies, “Angelo, My Love”; and “Assassination Tango,” in which he also starred.

Duvall had been a tango dancer since seeing the musical “Tango Argentina” in the 1980s and visited in Argentina dozens of times to study the dance and the culture. The result was the 2003 release about a hit man with a passion for tango.

His co-star was Luciana Pedraza, 42 years his junior, whom he married in 2005. Duvall’s three previous marriages — to Barbara Benjamin, Gail Youngs and Sharon Brophy — ended in divorce.

Former Associated Press Hollywood correspondent Bob Thomas, who died in 2014, was the primary writer of this obituary

By the middle years of the Revolutionary War, chocolate was part of the ecosystem of soldiering, consumed as a hot beverage and valued for energy when supply lines snapped, or pay fell behind. The Smithsonian Institution notes that Americans have been consuming chocolate since colonial times and points to the Continental Army’s use of it during the Revolution, as detailed in its examination of chocolate as a fighting food.

Even then, chocolate’s value was not only nutritional. It was psychological, a reminder that life extended beyond cold marches and unappetizing food.

That psychological dimension became unavoidable once the U.S. military entered World War II and attempted to feed a global force at industrial scale. The Army Quartermaster Corps needed food that could survive every environment, fit inside a pocket and perform predictably under stress, priorities documented by the Smithsonian’s research on wartime ration development. Chocolate was an obvious candidate, but the version soldiers wanted and the version logisticians needed were not the same thing.

In 1937, the Army approached the Hershey Company with a blunt request: Create a bar that was high in calories, compact, heat resistant and intentionally unpleasant. The goal was to ensure troops did not eat an emergency ration out of boredom. The result was Field Ration D, which the Hershey Community Archives describes as a purpose-built survival food, rather than a morale item.

The bar’s reputation was earned. It was dense, bitter and designed to be eaten slowly, delivering roughly 600 calories per serving. Army specifications required that it taste only “a little better than a boiled potato.” Soldiers did not need to enjoy it. They needed it to exist when everything else failed.

Then the Pacific happened.

Heat and humidity erased margins for error. Even though rations became liabilities, the Army’s needs shifted from merely heat resistant to reliably heat proof. In 1943, Hershey developed the Tropical Chocolate Bar, designed to withstand extreme temperatures while improving flavor to be more palatable.

World War II forced planners to acknowledge a simple truth: a soldier’s willingness to eat matters. While emergency rations like the D ration were intentionally unpleasant to ensure they were saved for survival, chocolate in other forms served a different role, offering quick energy and a brief sense of normalcy alongside rations designed strictly for endurance.

The same tension continues to shape modern ration design, driven by weight limits, packaging constraints and feedback from service members.

Chocolate’s rise from colonial drink to engineered survival ration mirrors the evolution of the U.S. military itself. Early America used it because it was available and useful, while World War II transformed it into a system defined by specifications, testing and mass production. Across centuries and conflicts, the lesson remained consistent: calories keep you moving, and morale helps you keep going.

The 29-year-old soldier and Olympic pairs skater currently preparing to compete in the Milan Cortina Games is the first figure skater in the Army’s program that nurtures elite athletic talent, according to the program director.

Willie Wilson, director of the World Class Athlete Program, told Military Times in a phone interview from Italy that Howe, who enlisted in October 2024 and graduated boot camp in February 2025 as a Motor Transport Operator, had been excited to join the ranks.

“He has done a great job of not only representing WCAP, but also representing the Army,” Wilson said.

Troops, veterans get free streaming of extended Olympics coverage

WCAP, which dates to 1997, offers athletes from a broad range of disciplines the opportunity to train and compete while benefiting from elite in-house coaching while receiving a military paycheck. For U.S. athletes, who don’t receive any money from the government to compete in the Olympics and typically have to pay out of pocket for equipment, coaching and other needs, this can be a pretty attractive deal. In return, the athletes stay current on typical military training and requirements and serve in addition as an outreach and recruiting branch.

“They hold clinics, speak to high school and college audiences, talk with athletic teams and make appearances in support of Army recruiting stations,” WCAP says on its website.

At the Milan Cortina Games, the Army has six WCAP members participating, including Howe and bobsledder Frank Del Duca, who, alongside speedskater Erin Jackson, was selected by fellow athletes to carry the U.S. flag in the Olympic opening ceremonies Feb. 6. The Air Force also sent two members of its WCAP to the Games.

Howe, who has skated with partner Emily Chan since 2019, narrowly made it to the Olympics following a disappointing eighth-place finish in the short program at the U.S. Figure Skating Championships in January. They squeaked into a qualifying position after finishing third in the free skate program.

“The roller coaster of the trials really opened my eyes,” Howe, who like other athletes is under a media blackout until the conclusion of the Olympics, said in an Army release. “Looking back at how the competition unfolded and how we were ultimately named to the team, we’re grateful and honored. Now we want to do our best representing the Army and the United States.”

This season, he and Chan are skating to the Italian “Caruso,” performed by Josh Groban, in their short program, and “Unchained Melody” from “Ghost: The Musical” in their free skate.

In an interview with U.S. Figure Skating last November, Howe acknowledged that taking time out to complete Army Basic Training and follow-on job requirements had come with its challenges.

“Even though I learned how to be an 88M, my current duty is to maintain a high level of military standard and a high level of athletic standard as they both now coincide with each other,” he said in the interview. “Every day I check in remotely with my platoon sergeant, and I take on each training day as an opportunity to fulfill my duties as that soldier-athlete.”

When he finally returned to training last June, he said, he came with an additional set of skills — beyond those required to operate and maintain the vehicles in the Army’s motor pool.

“I started looking at skating from a soldier’s perspective and not just an athlete. Taking on the responsibility to compete at the highest level — not just for Team USA but also for the Army — is a different level of commitment," he said. “Working with my partner Emily every day isn’t just a job; it feels like a duty. Approaching training with that mindset has changed how I work and helped me excel.”

According to Army releases, Howe plans to join the Chaplain Candidate Program after finishing his undergraduate degree, begun last year. Eventually, he said, he plans to earn his Master of Divinity.

Wilson, who is attending his eighth Olympics since joining the program in 2007, said Army Secretary Dan Driscoll had already visited the Games to encourage and congratulate the athletes. While the competitors will return to the U.S. at different times following their events, Wilson said the camaraderie and team spirit was strong and would be capped off with a get-together at WCAP headquarters in Colorado Springs later this year.

While WCAP wants its athletes to do as well as they can, it’s a lower-pressure environment than most sports sponsorship programs.

“If your best today is an Olympic gold medal, we’re pretty excited about that,” Wilson said. “But if your best turns out to be a sixth-place performance, we’re honored that you’re here and proud of you, and we would consider that success within the program.”

The pairs skating competition begins Feb. 15.

The Marines deployed to Bardufoss on a combination of military and commercially chartered aircraft – including a Patriots-branded Boeing 767 – to begin preparations for a Norwegian-led winter exercise scheduled for March, the Marine Corps told Military Times.

Roughly 3,000 Marines are expected to join other U.S. forces and some 25,000 personnel from a dozen nations for Cold Response 26. A significant portion of the American contingent hails from the 2nd Marine Division, based at Camp Lejeune in North Carolina. The drills are designed to test collective defense capabilities, U.S. readiness and interoperability with NATO allies under the harsh conditions of the Arctic.

The aircraft the Marines traveled on are part of a fleet operated by Omni Air International, which is under contract with the U.S. Transportation Command to provide chartered flights for military personnel. Omni Air operates two Patriots-owned 767s that are used for team travel as well as a range of other flights, including humanitarian missions and military charter services, according to the company.

Nicknamed “AirKraft” after team owner Robert Kraft, the planes are painted in the Patriots’ red, white and blue, and emblazoned with the franchise’s six Lombardi Trophies on their tails. Inside, the cabins have been retrofitted with all first-class seats and features a state-of-the-art in-flight entertainment system.

“The 767 we have typically carries 260 people, but since we didn’t have a need to travel 260 people, we wanted to utilize the space on the plane to give more space for people,” Jim Nolan, the chief operating officer of Kraft Sports + Entertainment, said.

The Patriots are set to face the Seattle Seahawks in the Super Bowl.

Camouflage patterns were designed to break up a human silhouette in various environments. Load-bearing vests, cargo pockets, reinforced boots and standardized cuts were functional necessities — solutions to problems that involved weight, heat, concealment and survival.

Over the last two decades, however, those solutions have been pulled into civilian fashion, stripped of context and resold as style.

Camo pants appear on runways. Tactical vests are worn to music festivals. Combat boots become seasonal staples. What was once functional equipment tied to service, sacrifice and sometimes trauma is now treated as visual shorthand for toughness or rebellion.

Ralph Lauren can’t stop ripping off military clothing

Camouflage is the clearest example. The pattern is now everywhere, from luxury collections to fast-fashion racks, often marketed as edgy or ironic. A 2025 Cosmopolitan article on camo’s resurgence outlined how patterns originally designed for concealment are now used to attract attention, often paired with bright colors, exaggerated cuts or intentionally impractical silhouettes.

That shift matters because camouflage was never neutral. Patterns were developed through research, testing and real-world application. They were worn by people operating in environments where being seen could mean death. When those patterns are removed from that context, they become abstract. The issue is not that civilians wear camo, but that camo becomes detached from the reality that produced it.

The same applies to tactical silhouettes. Plate carrier-style vests, MOLLE-inspired straps and oversized cargo pockets have become common in streetwear, especially among younger consumers. A New York Post article last year highlighted backlash aimed at Gen Z influencers who have embraced what critics called “World War III cosplay,” featuring combat-themed outfits worn purely for aesthetic effect. The criticism was less about age or taste and more about tone. To veterans and military families, those silhouettes are associated with training cycles, deployments and loss, not vibes.

The politics of military fashion are also difficult to separate from the visuals.

A New York Times piece published earlier this year examined how camo clothing exists at the intersection of military history, political identity and consumer culture, noting that what was once a government-issued pattern now signals everything from protest to patriotism depending on who is wearing it and why. The same jacket can read as anti-establishment, pro authority or simply trendy, depending on the context that is often flattened in mass marketing.

For veterans, this flattening can feel jarring. Military uniforms are not costumes. Even after leaving service, many veterans are conscious of what they wear and when. There is an unspoken rule about earned symbols, especially patches, unit identifiers and medals.

While most service members understand that camo pants or boots are not stolen valor, the casual use of tactical gear can still land strangely.

As an Army veteran, I spent years wearing uniforms that were issued, inspected and worn for specific reasons. Every pocket had a purpose. Every strap was adjusted for weight distribution. When I see a tactical vest worn over a mesh shirt at a festival, my first instinct is not offense but confusion.

That disconnect is where frustration often lives for veterans. It is not about ownership of style. It is about meaning. Military gear is designed through lessons learned, often the hard way. Removing that function turns hard experience into aesthetic shorthand, and that shorthand rarely tells the full story.

There is also a difference between influence and imitation. Military surplus has long been part of civilian wardrobes, especially after major wars. Field jackets, peacoats and boots entered mainstream fashion because they were durable and practical. The adoption was organic. What feels different now is the deliberate styling of combat as an accessory, divorced from utility and marketed at scale.

None of this means civilians should avoid military-inspired clothing. Fashion has always borrowed from institutions, subcultures and history — the issue is awareness. Wearing camo is not inherently disrespectful, but pretending it has no origin is dismissive.

Some brands have begun to acknowledge this gap by working with veterans, donating proceeds to service organizations or providing educational context alongside collections. Those efforts do not solve everything, but they show an understanding that aesthetics do not exist in a vacuum.

Veterans are not a monolith in how they respond to these trends. Some shrug it off. Others avoid military aesthetics entirely after leaving service. Some embrace the irony. What unites most responses is a desire for honesty.

Fashion will continue to cycle military aesthetics in and out of relevance. That is inevitable. What is not inevitable is forgetting where those aesthetics came from. Remembering the function behind the form does not ruin the look. It deepens it.

There is training, often portrayed as brutal, transformative and loud in films like “Full Metal Jacket,” which has become shorthand for how civilians imagine the making of a service member. Then there is combat, depicted as chaotic and decisive in movies such as “Black Hawk Down” or “American Sniper.”

These stories dominate popular culture, but they leave out where most of military life actually happens. Between training and combat exists a long stretch of routine, waiting, repetition and administrative work that defines daily service for millions of troops.

That routine majority of military life remains largely absent from how the military is portrayed, and its absence shapes how civilians view service and how veterans understand their own experience.

For most of my time in uniform as a public affairs noncommissioned officer and a National Guard soldier, my days were not filled with action or drama. They were filled with calendars, schedules, briefings and forms. I coordinated media visits that ultimately did not result in coverage. I stood in formation in weather that never made a movie montage. I wrote releases about training events that looked impressive on paper but felt painfully ordinary in reality.

I spent hours waiting for vehicles to move, for radios to work, for someone higher ranking to make a decision.

None of that fits neatly into a two-hour runtime, yet it is how a majority of service members spend their service.

Popular culture tends to avoid this middle ground because it resists clean storytelling. Training has a clear beginning and end. Combat has obvious stakes. Routine does not. It is ongoing and unresolved by design. That does not mean it lacks meaning; it means meaning is built slowly through shared experience rather than singular moments.

Some works have tried to capture this. The HBO miniseries “Generation Kill” is often cited by veterans because it shows long stretches of confusion, boredom, gallows humor and frustration during the early days of the Iraq War. Much of the series focuses not on firefights but on broken vehicles, unclear orders and young Marines arguing about music and leadership.

That depiction felt honest because it reflected how military operations actually unfold for those living them.

Even films that attempt to address boredom are often misunderstood. “Jarhead” tried to show the frustration of a generation of Marines trained for combat and then denied it during the Gulf War. Much of the film is about waiting, sexual tension, resentment and the psychological strain of being prepared for violence that never comes.

When it was released, some audiences criticized it for lacking action, which only reinforced the idea that military stories are expected to deliver combat or risk being dismissed.

Failure to portray what most troops actually experience day to day has real consequences.

Civilians often struggle to understand why service members describe their time in uniform as exhausting, even if they never saw combat. Families sometimes expect a clear narrative of trauma or triumph when what their loved one experienced was years of disrupted routines, missed holidays and constant low-level stress.

Veterans themselves can feel disconnected from public recognition when their service does not match the narrow stories society celebrates.

In the National Guard, this gap is even more pronounced. Much of Guard service happens far from public view. Drill weekends are spent conducting inventory, updating training requirements and preparing for contingencies that may never occur. Annual training often feels anticlimactic to outsiders despite being physically and mentally demanding.

These experiences rarely make headlines, yet they represent the bulk of how the Guard contributes to readiness and domestic response. When pop culture ignores this reality, it also ignores the legitimacy of that service.

Some documentaries have come closer to capturing this truth. “Restrepo,” which follows a platoon deployed to Afghanistan, is often remembered for its intensity. What stands out to veterans, however, are the quiet moments. Soldiers smoking, cleaning weapons, talking about home and waiting for something to happen. Those scenes communicate more about military life than any explosion.

The dominance of combat-focused narratives also shapes policy conversations. Discussions about veteran mental health often center on combat trauma alone. While combat exposure is a critical factor, it is not the only one. Years of sustained stress, lack of control over daily life and the constant postponement of normal milestones all take a toll. Those pressures are harder to explain when popular culture does not give them language or visibility.

I remember sitting through safety briefs that lasted longer than the training they preceded. I remember writing press releases late at night because someone deserved recognition, even if no one outside the unit would ever know. I remember the pride of seeing a plan executed smoothly, precisely because nothing dramatic happened.

Those moments taught me responsibility and patience. They taught me how institutions function and how people carry weight quietly. They are not lesser experiences because they lack spectacle. They are foundational.

There is room in American culture to tell these stories.

Audiences have embraced shows and films in other genres that focus on the ordinary rather than the extraordinary. Military storytelling does not need to abandon combat narratives to evolve. It needs to widen the lens. By acknowledging everyday military life, storytellers can present a more accurate and humane picture of service. Civilians gain understanding. Veterans see themselves reflected honestly. The military is no longer reduced to a highlight reel.

The parachutist, who belonged to the All Veteran Group parachuting team, according to the Houston Chronicle, was gliding into the Texas State vs. Rice game at Amon G. Carter Stadium in Fort Worth, Texas, when the mishap occurred.

The parachutist was one of several that jumped out of a plane above the field before the noon kickoff.

The All Veteran Group consists of active-duty service members and veterans who conduct parachute demonstrations to pay tribute to service members and raise money for nonprofit organizations.

After the first parachutist made it onto the field safely, the Houston Chronicle reported, video shared on social media showed the second parachutist carrying the U.S. Navy flag briefly getting caught in what appeared to be a wire above the field, before falling into the crowd.

#ArmedForcesBowl #NCAAFootball Parachute got stuck. pic.twitter.com/s1mGtHfC00

— Boognish Rising (@Boognish_Rising) January 2, 2026

Three of the five parachutists landed safely, with another parachutist landing outside the stadium, according to Keff Ciardello of the San Antonio Express-News.

The media director for the bowl game, Drew Harris, told the Houston Chronicle that the individual seen falling in the video was able to walk off the field under their own power. He also told the publication that no one in the stands was injured.

The parachutist’s name and information has not been released.

The Texas State Bobcats blew out the Rice Owls 41-10.

But such scuttlebutt, spread among the dense fog blanketing smoke pits and fanned by whispers of the E-4 Mafia and Lance Corporal Underground, is prone to sparking.

In mere moments, the falsehood became a conflagration of indisputable fact: Beloved pop icon Jennifer Lopez had passed away.

Marines deployed to far-flung theaters during the early years of the global war on terror were crushed.

Forget the anxiety of imminent combat, the heat, the intestinal issues stemming from MREs and the ammo crate toilets bearing the brunt of the fallout. To hell with the micromanagement of horseshoe haircut-adorned first sergeants or the indecisiveness of milquetoast officers who inexplicably outranked good brass.

Among a knuckle-dragging herd of testosterone-rich 20-somethings, J-Lo commanded attention. So indelible was the mark of her alleged demise that it made its way into “Generation Kill,” a seven-part HBO miniseries based on a book of the same name by Evan Wright, who accompanied the Marine Corps’ 1st Reconnaissance Battalion during the 2003 invasion of Iraq.

At the center of that 2008 on-screen adaptation, crafted by “The Wire” creators David Simon and Ed Burns, was actor James Ransone, who managed, among a versatile two-decade career, to take a seven-episode run and churn out a character so relatable that most Marines would bat nary an eye if informed he had previously been one.

The Baltimore native, who also starred as Ziggy Sobotka in season two of “The Wire,” among numerous other roles, died by suicide Dec. 19. He was 46 years old.

Years had elapsed since the last time I’d watched Ransone’s masterful orchestration of Marine Cpl. Josh Ray Person, who had as much a penchant for combat — because “peace sucks a hairy asshole” — as he did for quoting the great warrior poet Ice Cube or belting Wheatus’ “Teenage Dirtbag” during a convoy.

Starting the series once more this past weekend elicited renewed appreciation for his character — beginning with his concerns for J-Lo’s well-being — and its familial impression.

“Lieutenant, have you gotten any word?” Person asks Lt. Nathaniel Fick (Stark Sands) early in the series.

“I only get what’s passed on to me from Godfather, and the only word he gets is from the BBC,” Fick replies. “If we’re lucky, Saddam will back down, let the inspectors in and we can go home. The important thing is we are doing our jobs by being here. All of you should be proud.”

“Sir, that’s not the word I was asking about. I was — we wanted to know if you knew anything about J-Lo being killed.”

“Ray, the battalion commander offered no sitrep as to J-Lo’s status.”

The exchange was brief, but set a recognizable tone. Most Marines who deployed to combat will say they’ve known dozens of iterations of Ransone’s on-screen persona.

“We all sort of regressed into 11-year-old boys,” Ranson said about the filming process. “It’s very ‘Lord of the Flies’ at this point.”

Immense stressors are accordingly processed — and rationalized — through a lens of uniquely juvenile vulgarity that would result in instant termination in any civilian profession.

Every bystander within a 15-meter radius is subjected to scathing dismantling — about appearance, intelligence and, of course, the promiscuity of mothers.

Incessant comments about the dearth of first-world comforts — “the suck” — are articulated with such hateful eloquence as to warrant its own art category.

“If Marines could get what they needed — when they needed it — we would be happy and wouldn’t be ready to kill people all of the time,” Person says in one episode. “The Marine Corps is like America’s pitbull. They beat us, mistreat us and every once in awhile, they let us out to attack someone.”

Despite the absence of luxuries, few would trade experiences in the suck for anything. Combat aside, bonds are forged in the mundane. And few demographics enjoy more of a love-hate relationship with it than Marines.

Discussing his portrayal in an interview with HBO, the real Josh Ray Person commented, “I know I probably come off a little cynical about even the Marine Corps itself.

“Even though I may seem cynical to a lot of the other guys, I loved them like [brothers],” he added. “I could say things and make fun of them, but the very second that somebody else does it that’s not in our group, there’s going to be hell to pay.”

It’s far too easy, amid today’s deluge of divisive online vitriol and corresponding doom scrolling, to lose sight of those bonds that once enraptured us — when primary concerns among a gaggle of acne-riddled young men were relegated to porno mags, Jody and subsisting on a diet of Copenhagen and Rip Its.

Thanks to Ransone, this past weekend allowed for a return to that period of my life, now 20 years on.

I’m not sure Ransone was aware of how much his performance resonated with Marines. If he was, it’s unfortunate more of us will never be able to tell him how easily his character still tethers us to simpler times.

Fair winds and following seas.

Some of these simulations are not available to the public. Fortunately, there are games out there that can be obtained without needing a security clearance. Just in time for the holidays, here are six wargames that belong in your collection.

Command: Modern Operations: Published by Matrix Games, this wargame is probably the most successful example of one that bridges the gap between commercial and defense wargaming.

What began as a highly detailed, real-time computer game of modern naval and air warfare has become a popular training and planning tool for the U.S. military and militaries around the world. C:MO allows players to explore and experiment with tactics and technology in incredible detail, including weapons, sensors and electronic warfare.

Though more of a simulator than a competitive game like chess, C:MO is practically an (unclassified) reference source for current conflicts and the Cold War. It’s a game worth having for entertainment and education.

Panzer Campaigns: This series of computer games from Wargame Design Studio simulates World War II battles at the operational level. Battalions maneuver across historical maps as players deal with factors such as morale, supply, fortifications and command and control.

What’s also remarkable is that are so many games to choose from. There are 32 Panzer Campaigns titles and counting, ranging from the fall of France to the Battle of the Bulge.

Wargame Design Studio also publishes the Modern Campaigns games of a hypothetical Soviet invasion of NATO in the 1980s, plus other series including the American Civil War, the Napoleonic Wars and the American Revolution.

With 114 titles in the Wargame Design Studio family, there is enough playtime in this game system to last a lifetime.

Flashpoint Campaigns: If you want to understand why Russia’s army is floundering in Ukraine, then play this series from Matrix Games.

A grand-tactical, company- and platoon-level computer simulation of the Soviet invasion of NATO that never happened, Flashpoint Campaigns focuses on command and control. Give orders to your troops, and a certain amount of game time will elapse before they execute them, depending on factors such as electronic warfare and whether units are static or moving. This requires anticipating how the battlefield will look 15 minutes to an hour from now.

Just as important is that orders can only be issued at specified intervals, and those intervals are shorter for NATO than the Soviets. That means that when the battle doesn’t go as planned (when does it ever?), the NATO commander can more quickly revise their orders, while the Soviet troops are stuck executing their last set of instructions.

The COIN series: This counterinsurgency series of board games from publisher GMT Games tackles the political-military sphere of warfare, from the Roman invasion of Gaul to the U.S. campaigns in Afghanistan and Iraq.

The heart of the COIN family is asymmetry: Each game in the series has multiple factions — such as the Romans, America and the Taliban — with differing capabilities to attack foes and win the support of the populace.

Although the COIN games are somewhat abstract compared to traditional firepower-focused wargames, they superbly illustrate military theorist Carl von Clausewitz’s observation that war is politics by other means.

War in the East 2: It’s not easy to describe a computer game with a hardcover manual that’s 520 pages long. Fortunately, you don’t need a Ph.D. to play this wargame from Matrix Games — just the stamina to play a monster strategic wargame of the Eastern Front 1941-1945, in which German and Soviet players control hundreds of divisions and thousands of brigades, regiments and battalions.

WITE 2 particularly shines in logistics, with supplies tracked by the ton, and rail lines assessed by their capacity and whether they are single- or double-track.

The game may sound daunting — and it is to some extent — but the artificial intelligence handles much of the administrative burden. The result is a deep simulation of theater-level planning, including the importance of ensuring that adequate supplies are stockpiled before your arrival.

Terraforming Mars: From Swedish publisher FryxGames, this is not a wargame in either form or function. It’s a tabletop simulation in nation-building (or planet-building) as rival corporations seek to transform Mars into a second Earth. Players essentially have to create their economic machine from scratch, assembling resources, building infrastructure, erecting cities and planting forests.

TM offers a fascinating glimpse into the science of terraforming. But as gray-zone warfare becomes a fact of life on Earth, from cyberattacks to cutting undersea cables, it also illustrates the links that sustain a society and how those links can be disrupted.

Troops and families are often involved in formal or informal activities to make the holidays better for the military community; whether it’s spouse clubs baking cookies for troops living in barracks, parties for military families to provide food or toys for children.

However, plenty of others are at work during the holidays — and some, all year long — to bring some extra cheer to troops and families.

Here is a curated list of activities that have been happening around the globe this holiday season, including military families who give back to their local community.

Fun, treats and toys

A number of organizations have long-standing traditions of events for military families, not just during the holidays, but all year. The nonprofit Operation Homefront has served more than 13,000 military families at about 100 holiday events across the country this season. Their Holiday Meals for Military primarily supports junior enlisted military families. Families received meal kits (and/or pantry staples) and grocery gift cards.

Armed Services YMCA’s branches around the country provide different Operation Holiday Joy events, such as allowing military families to go in and “shop” for gifts for their children, such as toys, books and bikes. Some chapters, such as Killeen, Texas, near Fort Hood, deliver the fixings for holiday meals. That YMCA chapter alone has provided 2,400 people with holiday meals, while the Alaska Armed Services YMCA hosted a Winter Holiday Train for 450 riders on Dec. 7.

Army Emergency Relief distributed over $150,000 in $100 gift cards to soldiers in 34 Army units around the globe from Germany to Korea, said Sean Ryan, spokesman for AER. Installation sergeants major and installation sergeant Audie Murphy club members helped with the distribution.

The nonprofit Trees for Troops has provided 326,273 fresh Christmas trees to service members since 2005. And while they are still tallying the numbers, they expect to exceed 19,000 trees this year at 94 bases, said Rick Dungey, executive director of Trees for Troops. The trees are supplied by more than 300 family-owned Christmas tree farms in more than 25 states.

Troops are feasting

The Defense Logistics Agency has already delivered the fixings for holiday meals for troops stationed around the world. While planning starts in the spring, they had to pivot to meet challenges, including when the Gerald Ford Carrier Strike Group was diverted to the U.S. Southern Command to support Operation Southern Spear.

Another challenge was avian bird flu import restrictions in Japan, which hindered the prime vendor from finding turkeys for service members there. They located turkeys elsewhere that met the requirements and were able to ship the birds into Japan, officials said in a press release.

Here’s what’s been delivered around the world:

• 101,943 pounds of turkey
• 85,439 pounds of beef
• 40,615 pounds of ham
• 24,495 pounds of shrimp
• 4,339 cans of sweet potatoes
• 6,426 cases of pies and cakes
• 1,496 cases of eggnog
• and other holiday treats

Giving back to others

Military families have a tradition of giving back, and that often steps up during the holidays. Throughout the holiday season, treats and necessities were delivered to veterans at local VA hospitals as well as to families staying at the local Fisher House. Others continued to help feed the needy and bring some Christmas cheer to children’s hospitals or orphanages.

For example, Air Force’s 492nd Fighter Squadron hosts an annual Christmas party for the East Anglia Children’s Hospices in Cambridge, England.

Operation Santa Claus has provided gifts, toys, backpacks and books to children in remote Alaskan communities since 1956. The Alaska Air and Army National Guard and the Department of Homeland Security, along with volunteers from the Salvation Army and the Alaska National Guard Child and Youth Program, hosted families from Kipnuk and Kwigillingok at the Alaska Native Heritage Center in Anchorage, Alaska, on Dec. 14, 2025.

This year’s event supported families who were displaced following Typhoon Halong.

The Navy Midshipmen have jumped out to a 9-2 record, good for third place in the American Conference, while the Army Black Knights are hovering above .500, with a record of 6-5.

Regardless, the winner takes home the Commander-in-Chief Trophy, an accomplishment either side would love to flaunt in spite of the other.

But for either team to win, they’ll have to lean on their strengths.

Here are the keys to the game that will provide a route to victory for the Midshipmen or Black Knights.

Offense

The Midshipmen’s rushing offense is impressive, ranking first in Football Bowl Subdivision college football with an average of 298.4 yards per game. Their passing, however, ranks 132nd, with the team only accruing an average of 136.4 yards per game.

Meanwhile, the Black Knights’ rushing attack isn’t too far off, ranking 5th in college football with an average of 256.9 yards per game. The team accounts for far less passing yards than the Midshipmen, however, only throwing for 78.3 yards per game on average.

Both teams have a record of possessing the ball for long periods of time.

The Black Knights rank No. 1 in time of possession in college football with an average of 35:16 per game, while the Midshipmen rank 17th with an average of 32:20 per game.

It’s likely that whoever dominates the time of possession will hold a distinctive advantage over the other.

Navy pays homage to USS Constitution for this year’s Army-Navy uniform

Overall, the Midshipmen have a more experienced, balanced offense, with senior quarterback Blake Horvath — who led the Midshipmen to victory over the Black Knights last year in the Army-Navy game — leading the charge.

Horvath is the first quarterback in Midshipmen history to post back-to-back seasons with 1,000 yards passing and 1,000 yards rushing.

On the year, Horvath has rushed for 1,040 yards and 14 touchdowns, and passed for 1,390 yards with nine touchdowns and five interceptions.

Meanwhile, junior Army quarterback Cale Hellums — who only got the starting job in the sixth game of the season after Dewayne Coleman was sidelined with injuries — has impressed in his short time playing. At 5-foot-10 and 205 pounds, Hellums leads his team with 1,078 rushing yards and 15 rushing touchdowns. He has thrown for 504 yards, three touchdowns and two interceptions.

Defense

Neither team has a particularly potent defense.

The Midshipmen’s overall defense ranks 92nd in college football — allowing an average of 398.7 yards per game — and 57th in rushing with an average of 143.2 yards per game.

Meanwhile, the Black Knights have a better overall defense, ranked 56th, but still give up an average of 357 yards per game. Their rushing defense ranks 63rd, allowing 147.1 yards per game.

An interesting wrinkle that will undoubtedly play out during the game — the Black Knights allow opponents to convert third downs 44.9% of the time, ranking 123rd in that category. That porous protection will have to contend with a Navy offense that converts 49.6 of their third downs, which ranks 12th in that category in college football.

What else to watch

Navy racks up a good amount of penalties, averaging 54.8 penalty yards per game, while Army is much more disciplined, netting only 24.1 penalty yards on average per game.

The Midshipmen’s star senior nose guard Landon Robinson, who was named the American Conference Defensive Player of the Year and a First-Team All-American by Sports Illustrated and USA Today, has had a monster campaign, totaling 54 tackles, 8.5 tackles for a loss, 6.5 sacks and seven hurries.

The Black Knights’ senior linebacker Andon Thomas is no slouch either, totaling 96 tackles this year.

Scoreboard

At the end of the day, all that matters for each team is notching more points than the other when the clock strikes triple zeros.

How the Black Knights or Midshipmen accomplish that feat is up to them, but it would appear that controlling the time of possession and running the ball as much as possible will net an advantage over the other.

The Army-Navy game kicks off Saturday, Dec. 13, at 3 p.m. EST at M&T Bank Stadium in Baltimore, Maryland, and will be broadcast on CBS.

Amid this backdrop came the game of the century that, albeit briefly, delivered a respite from the far-flung battles across the globe and drew attention back to a good, old-fashioned American football rivalry.

“The Army-Navy game symbolized the continuation of peacetime rivalries in a time of national crisis,” author Randy Roberts wrote in “A Team for America: The Army-Navy Game That Rallied a Nation at War.”

“In a very real sense, it stood for exactly what Americans most desired, a return to the normality of American life.”

Yet the matchup almost didn’t happen. A little less than three years earlier, when the Japanese assault on Pearl Harbor plunged the U.S. into World War II, there were calls from politicians and those within the military for Americans to set aside peacetime frivolities, according to the Wall Street Journal.

“You can’t train a man to be a fighter by having him play football and baseball,” said Cmdr. James Joseph “Gene” Tunney, the Navy’s director of physical training and boxing’s former heavyweight champion. College football, he said, “has no place in war or preparing for war.”

Others disagreed.

“The British are going all out for sports as a morale builder, despite their proximity to the Luftwaffe and robot bombs,” Rep. Samuel A. Weiss, D-Penn, said in 1944. “Why, they have scheduled sixty-five sports events over there, thirteen of them major events expected to draw between 65,000 and 125,000 people. Our government realizes that if the British feel the need for public sports events so keenly, we certainly ought to do the same thing when we’re practically out of danger here.”

Cmdr. Thomas J. Hamilton, the head of the Navy’s Pre-flight and Physical Training program and a former head coach at Annapolis, felt similarly to Weiss, and, since he had the ear of much of the military brass, managed to shoehorn collegiate sports back on the menu.

The war itself had been a boon to both of the service academies’ football programs.

According to SB Nation, a dismal 1-7-1 record in 1940 prompted the United Press to describe the U.S. Military Academy Cadets as “a national calamity,” and military officials seriously considered mothballing the football team.

However, due to the war, the widespread influx of young men into the ranks of the U.S. military meant a swell of talent.

Further still, West Point, determined to snap its five-game losing streak against the U.S. Naval Academy Midshipmen, hired Earl “Red” Blaik in 1941, who was, according to SB Nation, “spartan and abstemious by nature.” His most profane epithet was a blistering “Geez, Katy.”

Yet his soft-spoken manner belied spectacular football acumen. His insistence on clean fundamentals and timing earned him the title of “that metronomic drill devil,” but his team was the better for it.

Interest in the game, originally set for Dec. 2, 1944, at the Naval Academy’s 12,000-seat stadium, swelled, with the rivalry matchup relocating to the 66,000-seat Municipal Stadium in Baltimore just a mere two weeks before kickoff. Tickets sales went toward war bonds and sold out in 24 hours, raising $58.6 million for the war.

One of the country’s preeminent sports writers at the time, Grantland Rice, wrote that it would be “one of the best and most important football games ever played.”

Army entered the contest with an undefeated 8-0 record, while Navy, coached by Cmdr. Oscar Hagberg, who had just returned from a Pacific submarine command, came in at 6-2.

Led by running backs Felix “Doc” Blanchard and Glen Davis — known as Mr. Inside and Mr. Outside, respectively — Army had decimated their opponents throughout the 1944 season, outscoring them 481-28. In fact, their last defeat had come in 1943 — at the hands of the Midshipmen.

Not to miss out on the spectacle was that of Army Chief of Staff Gen. George C. Marshall, Gen. Hap Arnold, commander of the Army Air Forces, and Adm. Ernest King, chief of naval operations.

And, while not televised — that would come the following year when Army was ranked No. 1 and Navy No. 2 — the eyes and ears of millions of Americans at home and abroad turned their attention from the battlefield to the gridiron.

“Win for all the soldiers scattered throughout the world,” came the pregame telegram from Army Gen. Robert Eichelberger, a former West Point superintendent stationed in the South Pacific.

Both teams entered the field that day in spectacular fashion, with the Navy contingent sailing across the Chesapeake Bay to arrive at the field, while the Army men were carried in on troopships escorted by Navy destroyers.

Winning the toss and electing to kick off, the Cadets struggled to get anything going offensively in the first quarter. So too did the Midshipmen. However, the defensive slog, noted New York Times sportswriter Allison Danzig, meted out “unusual ferocity of the give and take.”

By the end of the third quarter it was a mere 9-7 with Army in the lead after a safety. The game finally broke up in the fourth quarter with Army scoring two more touchdowns to win 23-7 against their archrival.

Despite throwing five interceptions and fumbling the ball three times, Army kept control, outgaining the Midshipmen 181-71 on the ground with Navy only completing 14 of 24 passes for 98 yards.

In 1944, after five years of Navy victories, Army beat Navy 23-7. General MacArthur cabled his congratulations to the team: "THE GREATEST OF ALL ARMY TEAMS. WE HAVE STOPPED THE WAR TO CELEBRATE YOUR MAGNIFICENT SUCCESS." #ArmyNavy pic.twitter.com/w0E8p808dS

— MacArthur Memorial (@MacArthur1880) December 5, 2020

“It’s just about the best Army team that I have ever seen,” said Hagberg between bites of a post-game ham sandwich. “Our offense just couldn’t get going. They whipped us, and that’s just about all there is to it.”

“I think it was just a case of the No. 1 team in the country beating the No. 2 team in the country,” Blaik stoically stated in the aftermath.

Gen. Douglas MacArthur, supreme allied commander of the Southwest Pacific Area, was much less impassive in his praise, famously wiring Blaik: “The greatest of all Army teams. … We have stopped to war to celebrate your magnificent success.”

In its 10th season collaborating with Nike, the Army football program alongside the U.S. Military Academy’s Department of History and War Studies have unveiled its latest specialty uniform, 1775, for the Army-Navy game.

The uniform, from helmet to cleats, features details reflecting the history and traditions that have been the hallmark of the service for 250 years.

To celebrate the Army’s birth, the service academy is traveling back to 1775 to honor the ordinary citizens who “rendered extraordinary sacrifices for the nation,” according to the West Point uniform website.

Marbled white uniforms with their numbers stitched in purple honor “those who served and never returned,” according to West Point Athletics, and serve as a “symbol of strength of American democracy.” The purple stitching represents both the Military Badge for Merit that was issued by George Washington during the American Revolution and present-day sacrifices of soldiers, Gold Star Families and Purple Heart veterans wounded in service.

Emblazoned on the front of the Nike-made jersey is the West Point seal surrounded by a chain, representing the 65-ton iron barrier that stretched across the Hudson River at West Point, securing the entire river valley for the patriots. The “Great Chain” was one of the most significant engineering feats of the American Revolution and was a lifeline to Washington’s nascent Continental Army.

“The river,” writes Hudson Valley Magazine, “separated the northeast from the rest of the country. If the British took control of the river, the head would be cut off from the body, and both sides knew what would follow.”

The easily identifiable typography on the uniforms mirrors the style of the U.S. Constitution, which the players, upon graduation and commissioning, will swear to uphold in a compact that has “guided our nation throughout its vaunted history,” writes the West Point website.

The helmet features 1775, the year the Army was founded, on the back alongside the Army Seal, which “serves as a constant reminder that this team’s players represent more than just the [U.S. Military] Academy when they step on the field,” according to the Army’s website.

Etched atop the helmet is the espontoon, a spear point symbolizing the Army’s role as the tip of the spear for the nation’s military might.

In 2024, the school chose to honor the 101st Airborne Division, highlighting the unit’s service during its role in the Battle of the Bulge and the Defense of Bastogne during World War II.

Units honored with past West Point football uniforms include:

• 2016: 82nd Airborne Division
• 2017: 10th Mountain Division
• 2018: 1st Infantry Division
• 2019: 1st Cavalry Division
• 2020: 25th Infantry Division
• 2021: U.S. Army Special Forces Command
• 2022: 1st Armored Division
• 2023: 3rd Infantry Division
• 2024: 101st Airborne Division

The Army-Navy game will be held Saturday, Dec. 13, at M&T Bank Stadium in Baltimore, Maryland, and will be broadcast on CBS. Kickoff is scheduled for 3 p.m. EST.

Even now, 50 years after the last American helicopters left Saigon, the answer is elusive. Despite pouring immense resources into Vietnam — including nearly 3 million military personnel, and suffering 58,000 dead — the world’s most powerful nation was unable to defeat an enemy that seemed hopelessly inferior in military power.

Accusations still fly at a long list of alleged culprits: “pinkos,” war hawks, hippies, the China Lobby, Jane Fonda, John Wayne, Lyndon Johnson and Richard Nixon. But can a tabletop wargame — that began life as a college student’s project — offer insight?

“Vietnam 1965-1975” was conceived in the early 1980s when Nick Karp, a Princeton University student, needed to complete his senior thesis. So Karp designed a board game that was published as a hobby game in 1984, and is still available today from GMT Games.

A game of firepower

As befitting such a massive struggle, “Vietnam 1965-1975” is a massive game. The GMT edition includes a 44-page manual, a 5-foot-by-3-foot map and 1,328 small cardboard pieces that depict combat battalions and regiments, as well as various informational markers.

The order of battle alone illustrates the polyglot nature of the conflict. On the Allied side are more than a dozen U.S. Army and Marine divisions and brigades that fought in Vietnam, or could have been sent, plus numerous independent artillery and mechanized battalions. Alongside them is the Army of the Republic of Vietnam, plus contingents of Australian, South Korean, Thai and Philippines troops. Opposing this coalition is the National Liberation Front and North Vietnamese Army divisions — mostly infantry, backed by some artillery and mechanized units — and a plethora of Viet Cong battalions.

The game is played over an L-shaped map stretching from the hills of the Demilitarized Zone in the north to the rice paddies of the Mekong Delta in the south.

Each turn — equivalent to one season of real time — the Allied and NLF players conduct various “operations” including search and destroy, clear and secure, hold and patrol, bombardment and strategic movement. To win the 1965-1975 campaign scenario, the Communists either have to capture Saigon, or control the bulk of the South Vietnamese population. The Allies need only surpass their real-life counterparts: If South Vietnam survives until early 1975, they win.

At first glance, the game looks like a slam dunk for the U.S. The Allies have copious amounts of tactical airpower, artillery and naval gunfire. Helicopters can whisk U.S. and ARVN troops over rough terrain, while tank and armored cavalry units prowl the roads. Strategic bombing can disrupt the North Vietnamese war effort and interdict troops and supplies moving down the Ho Chi Minh Trail.

Combat is resolved by rolling dice. The game’s combat system favors whoever can employ the most firepower in a battle, and that is rarely the Communists. It’s not that the Allies won’t take casualties. But the NVA and VC will suffer many more.

Death by a thousand cuts

So why doesn’t America crush the Communists by 1968, and LBJ win reelection instead of leaving the White House? Because like the proverbial death by a thousand cuts, a lot of little things undermine what seems like overwhelming power.

For starters, the terrain is mostly unfavorable for Western-style mechanized armies. Jungles and hills impede movement and provide defensive bonuses during combat. Allied firepower is immensely lethal but restricted unless the battlefield is declared a free fire zone, which undercuts support for the Saigon government.

Much of the Allied frustration comes from the difficulty of counterinsurgency. The map divides South Vietnam into 35 regions, each with a certain level of population. Dice are rolled each turn for each region to determine what percentage is pro-Saigon or pro-Communist, which in turn determines how much manpower is available to recruit ARVN or Viet Cong troops. The more VC/NVA units in a region, the greater the population that backs the Communists. Yet the presence of Allied troops in a region doesn’t generate support for Saigon, perhaps because ARVN troops had a reputation for robbing the peasants.

To win the support of the populace, the obvious solution is to destroy the Viet Cong in the countryside. But that’s easier said than done. Though weak in combat power, Viet Cong guerrillas have a special ability to evade Allied search-and-destroy operations. Cornering even a weak VC battalion can require three or four U.S. battalions — the ARVN aren’t mobile enough — and there are too few U.S. troops to hunt down all the VC.

Every turn, Communist units are wiped out, only to be replaced by new ones. NVA regiments infiltrate the South via the Ho Chi Minh trail through Cambodia and Laos. Fresh VC units sprout in every region, using local pro-Communist manpower as well as arms sent down from the North.

A war of whac-a-mole

The game captures the dilemma that confounded the Pentagon. To stop the Viet Cong from controlling the countryside means Allied troops have to fan out to surround the guerrillas. But splitting up to hunt VC leaves the Allies vulnerable to being jumped by North Vietnamese regulars that can be lethal against the ARVN or an isolated American unit.

“The game’s operational core shows how U.S. commanders whose forces possessed far greater firepower and mobility than their opponents could rarely bring those seemingly decisive advantages to bear against Communist units that generally fought only when it suited them,” Kevin Boylan, a Vietnam War historian and wargame designer, told Defense News. “The game illustrates how this fundamental asymmetry at the operational level caused the war to drag on so long that a critical mass of the American people lost patience with it at the strategic level.”

“Vietnam 1965-1975” melds both the operational and strategic aspects of the war.

For example, South Vietnam’s unstable political system has battlefield consequences. The game assigns each ARVN corps and division a randomly chosen commander with varying levels of competence and loyalty to the regime. Each turn, dice are rolled for loyalty, and a bad roll means that some ARVN formations will stay immobile in their bases that turn. If enough commanders are disloyal, there will be a coup that can shake up the ARVN command structure.

A credit card war

But if there is one mechanism in the game that best explains why America ultimately failed in Vietnam, it’s the “morale” and “commitment” system. Essentially, the game depicts the U.S. war effort as a sort of credit card where America starts with a huge credit limit.

The U.S. begins the game in the summer of 1965 with a “morale level” of 520 and a “commitment level” of 25 (reflecting American aircraft and advisers already in South Vietnam). Want to send the 1st Cavalry Division or the 3rd Marine Division? That will cost you around 10 “commitment points” apiece. A battalion of 155mm artillery or a Navy cruiser? They’re one point each.

At first, the Allied player is like a college kid with a new Visa card. There are practically limitless resources on the shelf. Aircraft, helicopters, supplies to equip ARVN divisions, South Korean troops, replacements for American casualties. Everything is available, but everything costs commitment points.

Meanwhile, there are a litany of factors that decrease morale, including sending fresh troops to Vietnam, invading Laos or Cambodia, losing provincial capitals, bombing North Vietnam or if the Communists declare a special offensive. Morale also goes down each turn as commitment grows over time, reflecting the inevitable fatigue of a long war. Unless the Allies wipe out a lot of Viet Cong in a turn, morale will only go down, not up.

Eventually, the bill becomes due. The rule in “Vietnam 1965-1975” is simple and unequivocal: U.S. commitment cannot exceed morale. If it does, then America must reduce its forces in Vietnam to balance the books.

And so the long U.S. withdrawal begins. An infantry brigade here, a tank or artillery battalion there. Once the tipping point is reached, each turn the U.S. presence in Southeast Asia shrinks a little more. And a little more. Perhaps the pullout begins in 1969, as Nixon chose to do as part of his “Vietnamization” of the war. Or in 1968, or 1970. But sooner or later, South Vietnam will have to fight on its own in a desperate battle to stave off Communist invasion from within and without.

Can history be changed?

That American society became too weary and fractured to continue fighting in Vietnam is hardly a revelation. But while a book or a documentary can describe history, the fascination of a historical wargame is the chance to experiment with it. Both sides in “Vietnam 1965-1975” can pursue a variety of strategies.

For example, the Allies can choose to accelerate the buildup in Southeast Asia by dispatching troops more quickly than LBJ did, taking an extra hit to morale in order to hit the Communists sooner. Or, Washington can send fewer troops in a bid to preserve public support and delay the U.S. withdrawal. American troops can fight more aggressively in the early war, suffering additional casualties and morale loss in hopes of suppressing the Communists before they take root in the countryside. Or, they can adopt a more passive strategy that minimizes U.S. losses but leave the VC unmolested as they take over the countryside.

The Communists have options, too. Spread VC units across Vietnam to control the population, or concentrate and risk heavier losses to capture provincial capitals? Avoid contact with U.S. troops while going after weaker ARVN units, or conduct hit-and-run raids on U.S. units to inflict casualties and undermine American morale? Either way, the Communists will patiently wait for the Americans to leave before going for final victory.

Can America win the game? It seems unlikely. Once U.S. troops and airpower are gone, the ARVN seems too brittle to defeat the NVA and VC. Indeed, Karp himself admits that his goal in designing the game wasn’t to create a fair contest between two players, but rather to model a crucial period in American history. The game was aimed at “reproducing a mood and understanding of competing priorities, not scrupulously documenting inevitably contingent details,” he told Defense News.

“I wasn’t trying to make a deep statement about favorites to win, nor the futility of the war either,” he added. “The victory conditions are far off, the road to achieve them vague and wandering.” In fact, Karp said he would “no way be offended” if players modified the game “either to improve their play experience or to better conform to their understanding of history.”

Every war is unique, and there is a danger in searching for too many lessons of the Vietnam War. But this tabletop game illuminates a problem that resonates today. U.S. troops fought for years in Afghanistan and Iraq before the American public and its leaders grew weary of the global war on terror. How long — and at what cost — will the American public endure fighting in distant lands, be it in Eastern Europe or Taiwan?

“The United States had the raw military and economic power to prevail if it had waged total war in Indochina,” Boylan said. “But, as the game makes clear, the American people had no stomach for that. And the war was effectively unwinnable at the level of commitment that they were willing to sustain.”

The studio spent years building this game, and the result is a tightly constructed mix of single-player storytelling, revamped multiplayer balance and an ambitious Zombies mode that sets the tone for the next era of the franchise.

For veterans who grew up with the series or served while these games shaped pop culture, Black Ops 7 lands in familiar territory. It returns to a grounded tone, drops most of the sci-fi spectacle and focuses again on the psychological impact of covert operations.

The result is stronger than expected, though not without its rough edges.

The campaign is the clearest example of both the game’s strengths and its frustrating limitations. Set during a tense chapter of Cold War history, the story follows a joint team of CIA operatives and military advisers chasing a rogue threat across multiple continents.

It is fast, cinematic and often gripping. One mission can be a stealth infiltration in a rain-soaked alley, followed minutes later by a frantic rooftop escape under heavy enemy fire.

That momentum also exposes the campaign’s biggest flaw. It is simply too short.

The game hits its stride in the final third, then ends before those stakes can fully mature. Characters who deserve more time are rushed through critical moments. Those who look for depth, honesty and a clear presentation of choices may find themselves wishing Treyarch had given these operators more space to breathe. The emotional beats land, but they do not linger.

For many veterans, the story will still resonate. Military service intersects with sacrifice, accountability and the moral weight of taking action, and Black Ops 7 takes those ideas seriously.

It avoids caricature and glamorizing operators, and handles tough decisions with a respectful tone. Veterans who spent years in environments defined by trust in leadership may see a more honest reflection of themselves here than in several recent entries.

Attention to detail in movements, breaching sequences and communication patterns also feels closer to modern doctrine than the exaggerated Hollywood style of older titles, though some encounters still lean too heavily on spectacle.

Multiplayer remains the center of gravity for most players, and Black Ops 7 delivers a more stable launch than usual.

The time to kill is consistent, weapon balance is stronger out of the gate and map design favors clear lanes and recognizable flow. Matches feel controlled instead of chaotic. Players who crave structure may appreciate the tactical pacing.

The problems arise after a few hours of play. Some maps are instantly memorable while others feel generic, and several playlist rotations become repetitive quickly.

A few early weapon choices already overshadow others, which creates pressure to use the same handful of loadouts. The skill-based matchmaking also feels more aggressive than ever, which may frustrate players looking for casual sessions instead of sweat-heavy intensity.

Zombies mode makes one of its strongest returns in years, supported by improved storytelling and a clear long-term plan for expansion. The mode draws on Cold War-era experiments and a growing scientific threat, giving it a darker and more grounded foundation.

Still, the mode is not perfect. New players may feel overwhelmed by layered systems and complex objectives. Players who want a simple cooperative survival experience may miss the older, more straightforward design. The mode also relies heavily on future seasonal content to mature, which means the best version of Zombies may not exist until much later.

The complete package feels like a studio trying to rebuild trust with longtime fans. Recent entries suffered from uneven pacing, annual release demands and shifting creative direction.

Black Ops 7 feels unified in a way that suggests Treyarch was finally given the space to experiment and refine. Even so, its flaws remind players that the series is still recovering from years of rushed production schedules. The campaign needs another hour of depth. Multiplayer will require balance tuning. Zombies will need clearer guidance for new players.

For many service members and veterans, video games provide a release valve. They offer a way to decompress at home and reconnect with old friends. When Call of Duty takes itself seriously, respects the profession it draws inspiration from and avoids turning conflict into spectacle, it earns the trust of players who lived the real version.

Black Ops 7 comes closer to that ideal than most recent entries. It is not a recruitment poster. It is not a political statement. It is a high-intensity shooter that treats its characters with respect and acknowledges the seriousness of the world it reflects.

If future updates continue in this direction, Black Ops 7 may be remembered as the moment the franchise regained its footing.

Taking cover from insurgents, his fireteam had just assembled in the dark in front of a house in Fallujah, Iraq, when the Marines were overwhelmed by the percussive blast of an explosion. About 40 yards in front of them was a mass of flames — the fiery remains of an Iraqi vehicle. Just behind them was the smoking barrel of the 120mm cannon from an M1A2 Abrams Main Battle Tank.

In the wee hours of Nov. 8, 2004, the Iraq War became very real for Bender, who was embedded with India Company, 3rd Battalion, 1st Marine Division. With a camera in one hand and a 9mm M9 Beretta pistol in the other, the then-20-year-old combat correspondent was momentarily deafened and disoriented by the roar of the near-simultaneous explosions.

“I had never been on the business end of an Abrams before that close,” he recalled in an interview with Military Times. “We worked with tanks for weeks and weeks after that and came to be kind of numb to it. Just being a few feet behind the barrel is much different than being a few feet in front of it as far as the overpressure and blast go.”

20 years later, the Marine Corps can still learn from Fallujah

That’s the kind of gritty realism on display in the documentary “The Last 600 Meters: The Battles of Najaf and Fallujah,” airing on PBS on Monday, the day before Veterans Day and the 250th anniversary of the U.S. Marine Corps. The film by Michael Pack tells the story of these deadly engagements through the words and emotions of the U.S. troops who survived them.

The film gets its name from a comment made by Master Sgt. Karl R. Erickson, a U.S. Army Special Forces sniper who equates his mission with looking through his scope at a target: “Foreign policy? I don’t make it. I just deliver the last 600 meters of it.”

The rest of the documentary details what that means for the troops on the ground and in the air over these deadly battlefields, chronicling their courage, commitment and camaraderie through a bloody ordeal.

“We conducted the interviews three years after the battles when memories were fresh,” Pack said in an interview. “But it was hard time to get it on the air then. Everyone had their opinions about the war and it was clouded in politics. We strove to tell these stories without politics from the point of view of the people who were there. Maybe now is a good time to look back and remember what happened.”

What happened was some of the heaviest urban combat by the U.S. military since the 1968 Battle of Hue in Vietnam. Engaging scores of insurgent groups in an uprising similar to the Tet Offensive, U.S. forces fought from house-to-house, alley-to-alley and even face-to-face to retake the Iraqi cities of Fallujah and Najaf.

In the film, Jeff Stevenson, then a Marine major, refers to the deadly close-quarters combat as a “three-block war.” Marines and soldiers had to clear each area in succession so enemy fighters would not be able to get behind them.

During the 2003 invasion of Iraq, the U.S. military quickly defeated the armies of Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein. However, the fighting was not over. Insurgents flooded into the country to resist the U.S. takeover. In “The Last 600 Meters,” journalist Thomas E. Ricks described how surprised he was by the situation on the ground:

“Iraq was a much more troubled place than we realized. I remember thinking, ‘I thought this was bad. I hadn’t thought it was going to be this bad.’”

By 2004, insurgents had taken over the two cities. American troops were given the mission of recapturing them. In early August, Army and Marine units pushed into Najaf amid heavy combat. The fiercest fighting took place at the massive Wadi al-Salam cemetery, which features a series of underground tunnels and aboveground monuments — ideal hiding places for ambushes. American forces often resorted to close-quarter combat to clear the seven-square-mile graveyard.

The battle for Najaf ground on throughout the month with heavy losses on both sides. At the center of the city was the Imam Ali Shrine, where enemy fighters had taken refuge. While U.S. Air Force gunships and jets attacked the area around the holy site, Marines and soldiers participated in hand-to-hand fighting to close the gauntlet.

One of the Marines interviewed in the documentary, Lt. Seth Moulton, now a U.S. representative from Massachusetts, was leading a platoon of Marines in the basement of a building when the patrol next to him encountered insurgents. It happened so fast that the Marine on point only had time to react.

“It was so dark and the Marine was clearing this room,” Moulton said in an interview with Military Times. “This guy tried to tackle him and the Marine couldn’t get his gun on him. They got into a ground fight, so the Marine pulled out his bayonet and killed the guy.”

As commandos of the Iraqi security forces prepared to storm the shrine, a negotiated settlement brought an end to the fighting in Najaf. A few months later, U.S. forces moved into Fallujah. In April, a ceasefire was declared, though tensions remained high. On Nov. 7, the attack began anew with American troops pushing the insurgents south through the built-up city to more open terrain.

Bender accompanied India Company into what he called “a sea of violence.” Fallujah was the scene of intense house-to-house fighting against a well-armed and determined enemy.

“There were a number of firefights in open streets, engagements where the asphalt is popcorning around you,” he recalled. “You have absolutely no cover and you are running wide open, trying to return fire. It’s a humbling experience. If you don’t have a relationship with your maker before you get into a situation like that, you will during it.”

One of the most intense moments in “The Last 600 Meters” takes place at “Hell House” in Fallujah. Marines had entered the structure and were shot by insurgents from the second floor. Teams attempted to rescue the men, each in turn being pinned down by machine gun fire and grenades. Trapped, there seemed to be no way to get the wounded Marines out of the kill zone.

Finally, two Marines, 1st Lt. Jesse Grapes and Pfc. Justin Boswood, broke through a barred window of the house into another part of the room. They trained their rifles on the second floor and began blasting away.

“We start unloading on these guys upstairs and these two selfless Marines run across this kill zone — not once, not twice, but four times to pull Marines out,” Grapes said in the film. “We had some Marines who were in pretty bad shape.”

Though 11 seriously wounded were rescued and a dead Marine recovered, the two insurgents remained on the second floor. A satchel charge was used to destroy the building. As Marines inspected the rubble, they found half buried what they thought was a dead insurgent. He was still alive and threw a grenade. The team scrambled for cover, then finished off the resolute enemy fighter.

“In Fallujah, I can honestly say, wow, we certainly don’t agree with their political ideology or their religious ideology,” Grapes says on camera. “We respected the fact that they stood there and faced us and fought us.”

Fighting in Fallujah lasted until Dec. 23 in what became the bloodiest battle for U.S. forces since the Vietnam War. Though traumatic, their experiences served to link them emotionally with their brothers in arms in a way few civilians understand.

“Nothing bonds like shared suffering and sacrifice for a common cause or a higher purpose,” Bender said. “Fallujah was that for us, for those of us in the fight. Those bonds definitely endure.”

He added, “That fireteam, that squad, that battalion — they are my family from the Corps.”

“The Last 600 Meters: The Battles of Najaf and Fallujah” airs Nov. 10 on many PBS stations. It can also be viewed on the PBS app and will later be shown on Prime Video and other streaming services.

Green’s likeness and story are the inspiration behind a new Call of Duty operator bundle launching Friday, making her the first female combat veteran to be featured as a playable Call of Duty character. The bundle launches alongside the new game Call of Duty: Black Ops 7.

The character, called 50/50, is outfitted with a bionic arm based on Green’s real-life prosthetic, the Hero RGD, developed by the prosthetics company Open Bionics and supported by the Call of Duty Endowment.

The Hero RGD, short for “rugged,” debuted publicly at the Call of Duty Endowment Bowl in Las Vegas in September. It’s the world’s most advanced bionic arm built for strength and durability, but for Green, it represents much more than technology.

“I love my bionic arm. It gives me balance, it makes me feel whole,” Green said in an interview with Military Times. “As a combat veteran wearing this arm in public, I know it’s about more than just me. Little girls who have lost a limb see someone like them moving forward with confidence.”

Green lost her left arm in a rocket-propelled grenade attack on May 25, 2004. Being left-handed, she had to relearn everything, from writing to daily tasks.

Her prosthetic is the first of its kind, combining titanium joints and high-strength nylon with a fully wireless muscle-sensor system that allows her to move the hand with speed and precision, according to Open Bionics. The Hero RGD can lift up to 77 pounds and is twice as fast as any other bionic limb available.

The custom version she wears features personalized details, including the date of her injury engraved on the arm, the coordinates of Mount Kilimanjaro, which she recently climbed, and a purple wedding band on the in-game operator, inspired by the one her team recovered from the battlefield after her injury.

Samantha Payne, Open Bionics co-founder and CEO, said she had followed Green’s story for years through her work with the Wounded Warrior Project and immediately knew she was the right person to represent the company’s latest design.

“She exudes strength and a vibrant, live-your-best-life energy,” Payne said. “She is all about living with confidence and helping others overcome. What a wonderful person to align with.”

Payne explained that the Hero RGD was developed over four years at a cost of approximately $2 million. Engineers aimed to make it the strongest, fastest and most reliable prosthetic ever produced.

“Our users are makers, parents, veterans, and builders. They are busy and active. We wanted to build something that could keep up with them,” Payne said. “The RGD is built like a Toyota Camry and runs like a Ferrari. You can’t destroy it.”

Open Bionics continues to expand access to its devices through partnerships with the Department of Veterans Affairs. The company confirmed that the VA funds the Hero RGD for eligible veterans and encourages those interested to reach out directly to begin the process.

“We are actively fitting veterans right now,” Payne said. “If you need a prosthetic, contact us. We can help you get one of these through the VA.”

Green’s collaboration with Call of Duty began when the Endowment and Open Bionics partnered to showcase a real veteran’s story through gaming.

“When the Endowment reached out, we saw an opportunity to celebrate a true hero,” Payne said. “This technology was designed to keep up with how veterans live and work, and Danielle embodies that perfectly.”

For Green, the project is also a way to connect with other veterans who are navigating life after service.

“In the military, we never leave anyone behind, and that’s how I see this project,” she said. “This is my way of helping hundreds of thousands of veterans who are looking for a new purpose in life.”

Dan Goldenberg, executive director of the Call of Duty Endowment, said the partnership with Open Bionics and Green represents exactly what the nonprofit strives to highlight.

“It is easy to tell stories of beaten-down veterans or incredible heroics,” Goldenberg said. “But the quiet heroics of pushing through difficulty and going on to do great things are just as important. Veterans are an asset to their communities, and Danielle’s story helps us show that.”

Since 2009, the Call of Duty Endowment has placed over 150,000 veterans in high-quality civilian jobs through its network of top-performing nonprofits. Veterans seeking employment can visit the Endowment’s website for free career support, including résumé help and interview coaching through vetted partner organizations.

Green’s story and her in-game representation now connect two worlds that rarely intersect: veterans’ recovery and mainstream entertainment.

Proceeds from her new operator bundle will support the endowment’s mission to help veterans find meaningful work.

“This isn’t the end of my story,” Green said. “It’s just a new chapter. We are not talking about surviving anymore. We are talking about thriving.”

Reports of sometimes deadly encounters with brown bears and Asiatic black bears are being reported almost daily ahead of hibernation season as the bears forage for food. They have been seen near schools, train stations, supermarkets and at a hot springs resort.

Since April, more than 100 people have been injured and at least 12 killed in bear attacks across Japan, according to Environment Ministry statistics at the end of October.

The growing bear population’s encroachment into residential areas is happening in a region with a rapidly aging and declining human population, with few people trained to hunt the animals.

The government has estimated the overall bear population at more than 54,000.

Soldiers will not open fire

The Defense Ministry and Akita prefecture signed an agreement Wednesday to deploy soldiers who will set box traps with food, transport local hunters and help dispose of dead bears. Officials say the soldiers will not use firearms to cull the bears.

“Every day, bears intrude into residential areas in the region and their impact is expanding,” Deputy Chief Cabinet Secretary Fumitoshi Sato told reporters. “Responses to the bear problem are an urgent matter.”

The operation began in a forested area in Kazuno city, where a number of bear sightings and injuries have been reported. White-helmeted soldiers wearing bulletproof vests and carrying bear spray and net launchers set up a bear trap near an orchard.

Takahiro Ikeda, an orchard operator, said bears have eaten more than 200 of his apples that were ready for harvest. “My heart is broken,” he told NHK television.

Akita Gov. Kenta Suzuki said local authorities were getting “desperate” due to a lack of manpower.

Defense Minister Shinjiro Koizumi said Tuesday the bear mission aims to help secure people’s daily lives, but that service members’ primary mission is national defense and they cannot provide unlimited support for the bear response. The Japanese Self-Defense Forces are already understaffed.

The ministry has not received requests from other prefectures for troop assistance over the bear issue, he said.

Most attacks in residential areas

In Akita prefecture, which has a population of about 880,000, bears have attacked more than 50 people since May, killing at least four, according to the local government. Experts say most attacks have occurred in residential areas.

An older woman who went mushroom-hunting in the forest was found dead in an apparent attack over the weekend in Yuzawa city. Another older woman in Akita city was killed after encountering a bear while working on a farm in late October. A newspaper delivery man was attacked and injured in Akita city on Tuesday.

On Wednesday, a resident of Akita city spotted two bears on a persimmon tree in her garden. She was indoors and filmed the bears as they walked around for about 30 minutes. She told a local TV network the bears appeared at one point to want to enter the room she was in, and she moved away from the window.

Abandoned neighborhoods and farmland with persimmon or chestnut trees often attract bears to residential areas. Once bears find food, they keep coming back, experts say.

A call for training more hunters

Experts say Japan’s aging and declining population in rural areas is one reason for the growing problem. They say the bears are not endangered and need culling to keep the population under control.

Local hunters are also aging and not used to bear hunting. Experts say police and other authorities should be trained as “government hunters” to help cull the animals.

The government set up a task force last week to create an official bear response by mid-November. Officials are considering bear population surveys, the use of communication devices to issue bear warnings and revisions to hunting rules.

The lack of preventive measures in the northern regions has led to an increase in the bear population, the ministry said.

AP video journalist Mayuko Ono contributed to this report.

The top winner, with a grant of $100,000, is the Caregiving Youth Student Leadership Program, which is part of the Military Child Education Coalition of Harker Heights, Texas.

“These are students who balance homework with hospital visits, who help care for a parent who is healing from injury or illness,” said Mary Bier, president and CEO of the Military Child Education Coalition.

Bier accepted the award during a ceremony Oct. 29 in Arlington, Virginia. During the event, Bier said students in the program often sacrifice their own needs to care for someone that they love.

MCEC was founded in 1998, and like many organizations, its programs have evolved to meet the needs of the military community. Their caregiving youth program, started in 2023, is an immersive, five-day leadership training that provides a supportive environment where they have “a place to be seen, to connect with peers who understand their journey, and to imagine what’s possible in their next chapter of life,” Bier said.

The award will help the organization expand the program to reach more youth, “giving them the tools, the confidence and the hope that they deserve,” she said.

The Fisher Service Awards, created by the Fisher House Foundation and the Military Times Foundation, recognize and help fund innovative programs created to improve the quality of life of service members, military families and veterans. Since the awards program began in 1999 as the Newman’s Own Awards, it has distributed more than $3.8 million across 215 nonprofits.

“The strength of our military isn’t just in cool jets or brilliant strategies,” said Marine Corps Gen. Christopher J. Mahoney, vice chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, in remarks at the Oct. 29 ceremony. “It’s defined by the resilience of our people, our warfighters and their families and the communities that stand behind them.

“You are, in fighter pilot lingo, the jet fuel that fuels the joint force. You organizations, without fail, step into a gap ... and provide resources and offer hope when and where it’s needed most,” he said. “You do it when others can’t or won’t.”

This year, more than 443 entries were received, and nine judges evaluated each entry based on the organization’s creativity, innovation and impact on their community. While not all of the organizations could receive awards, Mahoney said, “their collective dedication to the military community is a testament to that resilience” of the military and their families.

The awards ceremony was held on the 29th day of the government shutdown, which has affected many military families. Asked after the ceremony by Military Times about what the efforts of these organizations mean to the military community, especially now, Mahoney said, “Regardless of what the environment is like, they’re there. If times are tough, they’re there. If times are good, they’re there.

“It’s an immutable part of our community ... It’s remarkable to see.”

The Fisher House Foundation is known for its network of 100 comfort homes where military and veteran families can stay at no cost while a loved one is receiving treatment at a major military medical center or Veterans Affairs hospital.

“We’re grateful to have reached the milestone of 100 houses, and are committed to continuing to meet the needs of our military and veterans community as we begin the second 100,” said David Coker, president of the foundation.

“We recognize that we are but one of many organizations that have the privilege of serving our military and veteran communities, and we’ve found that we’re more effective if we work with other organizations in the spirit of collaboration, not competition. The organizations we’ve supported through this program and the lives they’ve touched has been the real payoff,” he said.

The Fisher House Foundation and the Military Times Foundation have been partners in sponsoring the awards since the program began. The Fisher Service Award winners “demonstrate how collaboration can drive a lasting impact,” said Kelly Facer, senior vice president of Military Times. “As is the case every year, our honorees exemplify the power of community, cooperation, and innovation in tackling the most important issues facing our nation’s heroes.”

The four remaining winners each received a $75,000 award. They are:

Exceptional Families Matter Grant Program, part of Exceptional Families of the Military, of Marana, Arizona. The organization provides peer connections and case assistance. Its grant program provides immediate relief for families with special needs. They also advocate for systemic reforms to help families.

Wounded Warrior Umpire Academy in Daytona Beach, Florida. The organization trains veterans as baseball umpires, providing mentorship and peer support and helping veterans rebuild confidence, purpose and camaraderie. The academy, founded by veterans, creates a lifelong network.

Diné Naazbaa Partnership, a program of America’s Warrior Partnership of Augusta, Georgia. It’s the first community-based initiative supporting Navajo Nation veterans, connecting them to resources in housing, health, education, employment and more.

Operation Rebound, a program of Challenged Athletes, Inc., in San Diego, California. By providing grants for adaptive equipment and access to supportive athletic communities, Operation Rebound removes barriers to participation in sports for veterans and first responders nationwide.

All five award winners also receive an advertising package from Military Times valued at $50,000. Ten additional organizations will receive a $35,000 advertising package from Military Times to support awareness of their work.

The new documentary from directors Jon Shenk and Bonni Cohen is not about the battles Navy SEALs fought overseas, but the ones they continue to face long after the shooting stops. It’s a film about endurance, recovery and what happens when the toughest people in the world have to confront pain they can no longer muscle through.

Premiering at the 2024 Telluride Film Festival and available to stream Monday on Netflix, “In Waves and War” follows a group of SEAL veterans struggling with the lasting effects of war.

The men in the film carry both visible wounds and invisible ones, and they speak openly about the cost of years spent in combat and separation from family. Rather than centering on the operations that made them legends, Shenk and Cohen’s cameras focus on what came afterward: the sleepless nights, the fractured relationships and the fight to feel whole again.

At the heart of the documentary is the question of whether psychedelic-assisted therapy can help veterans reclaim their lives.

The film explores experimental treatments involving ibogaine and 5-MeO-DMT, two substances currently not approved for clinical use in the United States. The veterans travel to treatment centers in Mexico, where these psychedelics are administered under medical supervision.

For many of the film’s subjects, the treatment represents a last-ditch effort after years of failed prescriptions and therapy. The results, at least on screen, are startling. What begins as a documentary about pain gradually becomes a story about possibility.

The film features several central figures, each with a distinct journey.

Marcus Capone, a former SEAL whose wife describes him as “a monster” after returning from multiple deployments, becomes one of the movement’s leading advocates. Through his nonprofit, Veterans Exploring Treatment Solutions, Capone helps others find the same lifeline he credits with saving his marriage and his life.

D.J. Shipley shares how the weight of two decades in the Teams nearly destroyed the home he built with his wife, Patsy, who herself lost her first husband, Danny Dietz, in Operation Red Wings in Afghanistan.

Matty Roberts, who suffered a devastating arm injury in combat, allows his treatment to be filmed in Mexico, offering viewers a rare look inside the process.

These men’s stories are presented without artifice. They speak directly to the camera, their words measured but unguarded. There is no dramatization of the battlefield and no replay of missions — only the lingering echo of what those years took from them.

What distinguishes “In Waves and War” from other post-9/11 veteran documentaries is its refusal to glamorize the military experience or pity those who served. Instead, it captures the reality of warriors learning to put down their armor.

To visualize trauma and healing, Shenk and Cohen incorporate animation sequences from London-based Studio AKA. The style is fluid, shifting between images of helicopters, night-vision raids and faces dissolving into smoke or sand. These transitions mirror how memory works, especially for those processing trauma. One moment the viewer is in a desert firefight, the next inside the mind of a man confronting his younger self. The effect is haunting, but it helps convey the internal experience of psychedelic therapy in a way words cannot.

While the film hints at the risks of psychedelic treatments, it largely stays focused on the positive outcomes. Viewers never see a failed session or a relapse, and some may question whether the film’s optimism leaves out important context.

But “In Waves and War” is not pretending to be a clinical study. It is a personal one. Its power lies in allowing veterans to speak for themselves about what worked when nothing else did. The emphasis is on hope, not science.

What keeps the film grounded is its honesty about how much healing still takes work. Psychedelic therapy is not portrayed as a magic cure but as a catalyst. The real effort begins afterward, when the participants return home and attempt to rebuild relationships and find purpose again. The film shows that facing trauma can be just as grueling as any deployment, but it is also an act of courage.

The title, borrowed from ancient poetry, fits the story perfectly. “In Waves and War” captures how trauma recedes and returns like the tide, and how surviving it requires both endurance and surrender. For veterans who have spent their lives mastering control, surrender can be the hardest part. Shenk and Cohen’s film understands that, and it treats every subject with respect and restraint.

This is not a political documentary, nor does it wade into debates about drug policy. Its focus is far more human. It asks what happens when warriors who have done everything right still cannot find peace, and what they are willing to risk to get it.

Whether psychedelic therapy becomes mainstream or remains controversial, the courage it takes for these veterans to seek help is undeniable.

“In Waves and War” stands alongside other post-9/11 works like “Restrepo” and “Of Men and War,” but with a quieter tone. It’s less about combat and more about the long, uneven path toward recovery. By the final frame, it leaves viewers not with a sense of despair but with a flicker of hope.

Healing, it suggests, might be possible even for those who thought they were beyond saving. For service members and veterans watching, that message may be the most important mission of all.