Conflict-desert-storm May 2026

"Jones, you're with me for the charges. Connors, find a spot to lay down covering fire if things go south," Bradley ordered.

Foley didn't say much. He just shouldered his rifle and moved toward a high ridge. A few moments later, his voice came through: "I’ve got eyes on the site. Two tanks guarding the perimeter. Guard patrols are tight." conflict-desert-storm

They were Alpha-Two, a small wedge of Delta Force—or SAS, depending on who was telling the story—driven deep behind Iraqi lines during the opening days of . "Jones, you're with me for the charges

The air filled with the chaotic symphony of war: the sharp crack of Foley’s sniper rifle, the heavy chatter of the machine gun, and the desperate shouts of Iraqi soldiers scrambling to their posts. Bradley didn't panic. He focused on Jones, who was rapidly wiring the detonator. "Done! Move out!" Jones yelled. He just shouldered his rifle and moved toward a high ridge

The squad fell back, leapfrogging under the cover of smoke grenades as the desert behind them erupted into a pillar of orange flame. The SCUD launcher was gone.