Throughout 1863 and 1864, Confederate guerrilla leader John Singleton Mosby and his intrepid Rangers, “the South’s most dangerous men” terrorized the Northern troops in the area surrounding the Shenandoah Valley, known as “Mosby’s Confederacy.”
Modern conflicts are increasingly fought less on traditional battlefields and more through irregular warfare like disrupting supply chains, conducting psych ops, and other strategic maneuvers—including timing attacks with an eye toward media coverage and upcoming elections.
Next week Americans will celebrate the founding of our country, but most probably don’t realize how close one hundred and sixty years ago in July 1864 America came to being permanently torn apart.
A crucial piece of intelligence can turn the tide of an entire battle or even a war. During the Civil War before the Third Battle of Winchester, that intelligence was obtained from two of the most unlikely of sources—a school teacher and a slave.
On April 18, 1864, author Herman Melville rode through the twilight, embedded with the 2nd Massachusetts Cavalry, on a scouting mission deep in enemy territory.
The most difficult mission of D-Day was scaling the 90-foot cliffs of Pointe du Hoc, France to take out the German machine guns targeted on the beach.
Confederate guerrilla leader John Singleton Mosby continually urged his Rangers to “get the bulge” on their opponents by attacking first, using the element of surprise to swiftly and violently make the most of their small numbers to subdue their opponents.
Countless times, the fate of the nascent American nation depended on the right person being in the right place at the right time–like the gallant 26-year-old Marblehead captain James Mugford Jr. who captured the largest single prize of the Revolutionary War, the Hope.
Confederate guerilla leader John Singleton Mosby and his intrepid Rangers are known for their incredibly daring feats, but they weren’t always successful. One chilly night in the winter of 1864, the Union calvary met the Confederates’ surprise raid with a bloody defeat.
Each of my thirteen books has found me. The spark for my latest bestseller ignited when I stumbled across a roadside sign in Northern Virginia marking John Singleton Mosby’s Grapewood Farm engagement.
Mosby himself seemed to have a vampire-like ability to rise from the dead, being severely wounded a handful of times, but always staving off death and capture.
Ballot fraud occurred one hundred and sixty years ago in the presidential election of 1864, when absentee ballots were allowed for the first time because of the massive number of Union soldiers in the field and away from their home states.
A lonely roadside sign stands by a winding Virginia country byway marking the site Union Jessie Scout Jack Sterry, also known as Lincoln’s Special Forces, spoke his last words. Through his cunning, he tried to lead the Confederate army down the wrong road, away from where it was crucially needed.
April 19, 1775, marked the beginning of an epic journey for a band of brothers who risked EVERYTHING for a nation yet to be born.
Special operations forces require special men. Union major Henry Harrison Young was such a man—born for war.
The Union Army had one of their best chances to capture and destroy Mosby’s Rangers, the comparatively small elite unit, at that time, of Confederate guerilla warriors terrorizing Federal troops in Northern Virginia.
John Singleton Mosby, one of the main characters of this story, 161 years ago this week conducted what is considered the perfect special operation.
Countless times in American history, commanders have promised to have the boys home by Christmas. In December 1863, in desperate need to relieve Knoxville, Tennessee, from the pressure of the surrounding Confederate troops, the Union high command planned a daring raid.
Jack Hendrick Taylor was America’s first Sea, Air, and Land commando who pioneered operations core to the U.S. Navy SEALs.
The forgotten revolutionary raid at Stony Point, which occurred 244 years ago this week, exemplifies American courage, innovation, and grit.
“We were about two hundred feet from the beach when a shell blew off the front of our landing craft, destroying the ramp,” recalled Ray Alm from B Company of the 2nd Ranger Battalion.
The terms “disinformation” and “Information warfare” were not coined until long after 1775, but America’s Founding Fathers absolutely understood the importance of them and controlling the narrative.
This week marks the anniversary of the Battles of Lexington and Concord. Two hundred and forty-seven years ago, farmers, tradesmen, laborers, and mariners–Americans of all stripes–came together to defend themselves against the most professional army in the world.
On Christmas Eve, General George Washington sat in his tent on the banks of the Delaware River and methodically wrote the same three words over and over on several small pieces of paper. He had decided on a daring plan: crossing the ice-choked Delaware River and mounting a surprise attack on the Hessian garrison at Trenton.
Two hundred and forty-six years ago this week the fate of Washington’s army—in fact, the fate of the entire Revolution—lay on the muscled shoulders of the fishermen and sailors of the Marblehead Regiment.
This elite unit of Marylanders, known as “Washington’s Immortals” or the “Bayonets of the Revolution” for their Thermopylae-like charge against a British stronghold, bought with their blood “an hour, more precious to American liberty than any other in its history.”
Two hundred and forty-six years ago, a little-known plot was hatched to assassinate Commander in Chief General George Washington that could have potentially altered the course of history.
Countless times, the fate of the nascent American nation depended on the right person being in the right place at the right time–like the gallant 26-year-old Marblehead captain James Mugford Jr. who captured the largest single prize of the Revolutionary War, the Hope.
This week marks the anniversary of the Battles of Lexington and Concord. Two hundred and forty-seven years ago, farmers, tradesmen, laborers, and mariners–Americans of all stripes–came together to defend themselves against the most professional army in the world.
St. Patrick’s Day is renowned for its green beer and revelry, but on March 17, 1776 the day marked a turning point in the Revolutionary War. Through the course of events, a young bookworm would serendipitously uncover a solution that unlocked American innovation and changed history.
Today, we take the term “The United States of America” for granted, but when a plucky Irishman in Washington’s Navy used it for the first time, the unity of the American colonies as well as their quest for independence was in question.
239 years ago, that freezing night in January was the eve of one of the most decisive battles of the Revolution, one that was won through a combination of leadership and adaptability.
“Defend the bridge to the last extremity!” Washington shouted to his officers and men 245 years ago as he stared at the massive British army coiling in front of the stone arched bridge that stood between his men and their destruction.
“Our republic cannot exist long in prosperity,” Doctor Benjamin Rush later wrote in a letter to John Adams. “We require adversity and appear to possess most of the republican spirit when most depressed.”
In the fall of 1776, the United States faced complete collapse. In those dark days, Americans reached deep within, through their agency, to change the course of history.
One of the most poignant and meaningful of these ceremonies will take place at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Arlington National Cemetery. During this year’s Veteran’s Day memorial celebration, Arlington Cemetery will recreate a portion of the ceremony that took place 100 years ago.
For those on the ground in Europe the last twenty-four hours before the cessation of hostilities on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month in 1918, that day was nothing less than hell on earth.
The Founders boldly threw down a nonimportation and exportation agreement against the greatest economic power on earth.
Most Americans think of General George S. Patton as the great commander of U.S. forces in North Africa and Europe in World War II, but fewer know that the colorful and charismatic officer also played a key role in World War I — and here he learned to command.
Two hundred and forty-five years ago, in a forgotten battle that saved Washington’s Army, a handful of American soldiers accomplished a feat exceptionally rare in history. They successfully prevented an amphibious landing by thousands of British soldiers.
