Controversy surrounded the narco-boat strikes on Sept. 2, carried out by U.S. forces. Reports show that the first strike hit a suspected drug-smuggling vessel, and that WarSec Pete Hegseth watched the strike live, but said he didn't see any survivors in the water.
Moments later, a second strike followed that reportedly killed survivors of the initial strike. Critics call that second hit illegal, possibly a war crime. Legal analysts argue that international law prohibits targeting shipwrecked or incapacitated people.
As if on cue, dinosaur media and Democratic lawmakers are placing pressure on Hegseth, who stood behind the strike, backing the decision made by Admiral Frank M. Bradley, who directed the engagement.
Hegseth defended follow-on action, invoking the fog of war, and refused to abandon the operation or the men who carried it out.
That refusal to throw underlings under the bus triggers anger among critics, but support for Hegseth among many on the right shows a different frame.
Why Defending Subordinates Might Mean Strength, Not Evasion
When a commander stands behind the decisions made by subordinates, especially brutal or controversial ones, people often call it cowardice or shirking responsibility, saying it's a bad look to run from accountability.
Sometimes, however, the opposite applies: Leaders protecting subordinates under fire display real backbone, accepting the burden that comes with high-stakes choices. They own the moral and legal cost, plus loyalty matters in a chain of command.
Rejecting a backlash that demands blood from lower ranks often shows courage. If leaders believe their troops acted under orders and within the rules, then defending them under scrutiny shows leadership under pressure.
It's that posture that Hegseth claims, accepting responsibility for authoring the initial mission, and he defended the follow-up strikes as legitimate under the circumstances. Where critics see cruelty and lawlessness, supporters see duty done under dangerous circumstances. The optics may be regrettable, but there are no regrets when backing his forces.
When History Honors the Commander Who Stood Behind His Men
History gives Americans many examples of commanders who wore success and failure shoulder-to-shoulder with their troops. Chesty Puller captured that kind of loyalty: Marines remembered Puller not for political speeches or press coverage but because he fought with them, protected them, and accepted blame or praise as one of them. Puller rose from the enlisted ranks, leading from the front. He earned five Navy Crosses and became a legend for grit under fire.
On Guadalcanal, for example, when two Marine companies were surrounded by a larger Japanese force, Puller risked everything. He signaled a U.S. Navy destroyer to provide fire support and organized a retreat under fire that saved hundreds of lives. Marines lived because Puller refused to abandon them.
Later at Peleliu, after heavy losses and extreme exhaustion, Puller didn't send his men anywhere he wouldn't go himself, accepting the risks. Even when critics blasted him for his aggressiveness, many Marines stayed loyal to him, a loyalty that meant something.
Chester W. Nimitz also exemplified quiet but firm command. Nimitz led the Pacific Fleet through some of the Navy's worst moments, but he trusted capable officers to make hard calls and backed them amid rising criticism.
That trust created unity and confidence in a time of chaos
Dwight D. Eisenhower also defended the officers under his command after major engagements, shielding them from public or political criticism and allowing them to focus on strategy and execution without fear of being sacrificed for bad optics.
Ike's leadership style rested on firm backing, even when the media or foreign capitals demanded scapegoats.
These commanders weren't perfect; they made mistakes. Puller lost nearly half his regiment at Peleliu after stubbornly pushing frontal assaults, yet his troops often fought with faith, believing leadership spoke with honor.
Their men held ground under heavy fire because they believed commanders cared.
When Commanders Fold, History Remembers That, Too
Compare those leaders of men with Douglas MacArthur. At times, he acted bold, if not brilliant, such as during his 1950 Inchon landing.
But heavy questions surrounded his record. Political ambition shaped many of his decisions, and he often pushed risky strategies and displayed impatience with dissent from his subordinates.
Several times during Pacific campaigns, MacArthur's aggressive push for the Philippines clashed with more measured naval advisors who favored safer, more strategic approaches.
When defeats came, MacArthur sometimes deflected blame. While cultivating a heroic image, he let his commanders absorb the fallout from losses or miscalculations, breeding a pattern of distrust among those who served under him.
Where Puller, Nimitz, and Eisenhower stood by their men through defeat or victory, MacArthur often stood by headlines and public perception. He chose prestige over humility and ego over accountability.
When leaders protect their rank instead of people, loyalty dies.
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Hegseth’s Stand Echoes History’s Best, While Critics Act Like History’s Worst
The uproar over the narco-boat strike reveals far more about the culture than the war or drugs. Critics call Hegseth's backing cowardly, framing the strikes as a moral failure. They demand resignation and paint any defense of the strike as complicity in murder.
What they don't realize or refuse to accept is that Hegseth's position carries historic weight among traditions that value loyalty, trust, and the chain of command. He didn't run when pressure hit or throw subordinates under the bus to satisfy headlines. The man stood with those who carried out strict orders.
That position reflects the leadership that made legends of Puller, Nimitz, and Eisenhower, with a posture that rejects the kind of self-serving blame-shifting that more often than not defined MacArthur.
American history places great value on leaders who are willing to bear the burden of choice, not those who use soldiers as shields to protect regulations. Hegseth stepped forward when calls for scapegoats rose, a fact that seemed to stun many critics more than any gunfire or strike.
What That Means for America’s View of Leadership
When defending America, genuine leadership demands hard calls in dark waters; moral clarity matters, and the people entrusted to carry out orders often face life-or-death decisions. If their leaders abandon them when the headlines hit, trust crumbles.
If commanders reward loyalty and honor tough choices, bystanders may criticize, and history will ultimately become the judge. But morale stays intact among those who fight, guard, and defend.
Hegseth accepted the pressure by leading a strike that others doubted. He backed his commanders under scrutiny — a pattern that speaks not of cowardice but of backbone.
Whether courts later condemn the strike or exonerate it, Hegseth's decision frames the debate not as a legal footnote but as a command culture that asks less of civilians and more of leaders.
By focusing on that single strike instead of the context of the overall picture, critics ignore the fact that the targets were transporting poison that kills thousands of Americans, without thinking twice about their actions. If you think for a second that narco-terrorists would hesitate to kill anybody who may be floating on debris in the ocean, then there's a perception problem only one of us faces.
Whether people view that as right or wrong depends on the lens. But the argument that Hegseth's backing qualifies as weakness fails the test of history.
Loyalty under fire never feels easy.
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