IT WAS JUST BEFORE 2 a.m. on Jan. 3, 2026.
Low-flying helicopters carrying Delta Force operators skimmed the Caribbean headed for the South American coast. The mission: Capture Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro from his compound in Caracas.
As the helicopters
approached the Venezuelan capital, American cyberattacks blinded local radar systems around Caracas, and plunged the city of more than 3 million people into sudden darkness. Overhead, Navy and Air Force fighters bombed air defenses and key military command facilities.
At the compound, Delta Force operators slipped down ropes and breached the door with explosives. Under fire, the assault team rushed through the complex, killing more than 30 Cuban guards before capturing both Maduro and his wife, Cilia Flores. In less than 30 minutes, the Delta operators delivered Maduro to the waiting helicopters, which returned to the USS Iwo Jima in international waters without a single American fatality.
“If you look at the Venezuela raid, it is incredible what occurred there,” former Army Secretary Dan Driscoll tells me with justifiable pride in his first interview since resigning in August. “In human history, there are very few militaries that could have pulled that off.”
Unfortunately, the Venezuela raid also provided the wrong lessons for the Trump administration. Smooth, low-cost victories are hardly ever the norm for any military operation. Since that high point, the Pentagon has been stressed by the war with Iran. The Islamic Republic’s use of inexpensive drones to smash American bases in the Middle East has depleted the nation’s arsenal of interceptors. Rising fuel prices have compounded the costs. There are reports of low morale within the ranks, and the open-ended nature of the conflict has made the war extremely unpopular at home.
Driscoll foretold most of this before resigning. Special-operations-style strikes — which fit into the Pentagon’s framework mastered in Iraq, Syria, and Afghanistan — Driscoll warns, are not the path to victory on modern battlefields dominated by cheap drones and AI.
“That kind of massive force and violence is a very different exercise than doing something exquisite,” Driscoll says. “It doesn’t mean you don’t need a soldier who’s tough, who’s fit, who’s capable of, in their scariest moment of their life, maintaining their cool and continuing to push forward to the objective and keep their colleagues safe. You need all of that, too, but that is not sufficient anymore.”
Even in the face of the failures in the Iran war, Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth, a former Fox News host who deployed twice to combat in Iraq and Afghanistan, is instead obsessed with the military’s window dressing. Physical fitness, grooming standards, and mandatory annual testosterone-deficiency screening instead of investing in leaders and technology suited for the evolving kind of battlefield that a former senior Ukrainian commander dubbed a “zone of continuous death.”
“We’re not going to talk about modernization or transformation or experimentation?” a former Army official who worked with both Driscoll and Hegseth says about the Pentagon’s priorities. “We’re going to talk about standards and fitness. Nobody disagrees that’s important, but tell our guys on the ground when we don’t have anything to intercept the next Shahed [Iranian drone] coming at them that we’re going to launch some standards up at [it]. You know what I mean?”
“When you’re an American soldier, you go to work every day, and step back like 20 or 30 years with tech.”
In 2025, Driscoll came in as an innovator looking to rejigger the military. From the start, his doctrine of rapid innovation and real-time procurement aimed to build an Army for the 21st century by focusing on emerging technology, streamlining duties, and refining the budget to invest in weapons and programs that could handle a fight like the one in Ukraine. But the disconnect between Hegseth’s juvenile fantasies and Driscoll’s futuristic visions led to many of the generals leading the Army’s modernization effort being replaced. The ousters prompted a showdown in the Oval Office in late August, when Driscoll informed the president that he had reached what he considered an untenable situation at the Pentagon and felt he needed to resign, according to news reports and a former Pentagon official briefed on the meeting. When the president asked why he was resigning, Driscoll explained that he had intended to modernize and transform the Army and that Hegseth had fired everyone working toward that goal.
I met Driscoll in September over Zoom. Only a few days after leaving his post, he was at a conference and set up in a cabin. Driscoll is earnest and affable with a bright smile and easygoing demeanor. He gets excited the more he talks about his modernization efforts and partnership with Gen. Randy George, the former chief of staff of the Army, but as we unpacked his tenure atop the Army, he showed keen political sense when pressed on his private conversations with his former boss or the Trump administration.
But what is clear is he saw what needed to be done. And it cost him his job.
‘The Amazon for War’
It was the Army’s 250th Birthday Parade, a daylong event along Constitution Avenue commemorating the founding of the Continental Army on June 14, 1775. Roughly 6,600 active-duty soldiers came to Washington in June 2025 to march, beginning with colonial reenactors, progressing through the World War II and Vietnam eras, and culminating in modern hardware and robotics.
Together for much of the festivities, Driscoll and George watched the parade from the grandstand. “All that stuff rolling across the parade looks a lot like it did back in the Nineties,” George recalls telling Driscoll.
Driscoll, who also remembers the conversation, says he had another revelation.
“When you’re an American soldier, you would get to work every day, and you basically step back like 20 or 30 years with tech,” Driscoll tells me. “President Trump came into his second term with a military that had been very poorly prepared for modern war.”
“The way to fix the brokenness of the system is to allow market forces in,” Driscoll says.
Like Hegseth, Driscoll was a combat veteran of the global war on terror who left the Army as a junior officer and moved into politics. He grew up outside of Boone, North Carolina, and earned a business degree from UNC-Chapel Hill in 2007. Driscoll was commissioned as an Armor officer that same year, and went on to lead a Cavalry Scout platoon in the 10th Mountain Division, deploying to Baghdad in 2009. He earned an Army Commendation Medal, a Ranger tab, and a Combat Action Badge, and left active duty as a first lieutenant in 2011.
From there, he went to Yale Law School — with Vice President JD Vance — graduating in 2014, then spent the next decade in investment banking and private equity. He launched an unsuccessful campaign for North Carolina’s 11th Congressional District seat before joining Trump’s 2024 presidential campaign as one of Vance’s senior advisers. Following Trump’s election, he was appointed, and the Senate confirmed him as the 26th secretary of the Army on Feb. 25, 2025 — the youngest person ever to hold the job.
“I was surprised at how talented the generals who were in positions of leadership were when I got there,” Driscoll tells me when I ask him what he expected after being confirmed.
His first big effort was empowering the Army Transformation Initiative, or ATI, a modernization plan started by George focused on stripping away administrative bloat, investing in emerging technology, and purging outdated equipment. One of Driscoll’s first wins was allowing soldiers to fix their own gear instead of relying on defense contractors. It earned him rare bipartisan support from Sen. Elizabeth Warren.
“All that I had to do was basically come in and say this is worth the headache,” Driscoll says. “What are the things that we need to start to buy, and what are the things that we need to start to scale?”
That question became Driscoll’s North Star as he worked to fix a slow procurement system. By the time the Army got equipment, it was outdated or no longer needed, Driscoll tells me. A good example was Humvees, the workhorse utility truck. The Army figured it needed about 50,000 for the whole force, but they had more than double because Congress kept funding production lines past official military requests.
“You basically have a system that optimizes the things that don’t actually have anything to do with soldier lethality,” Driscoll tells me. “And instead you have entrenched players providing subpar technology and equipment.”
“People don’t sign up to do spreadsheets. They sign up to go do soldier things.”
The fix, as he describes it, was letting market forces decide what gets bought. The Army assembled experts and invited representatives from all 350 local, state, and federal law-enforcement agencies the Army works with to describe their problems firsthand, then aggregated them into a single marketplace in August 2025. It was in effect an “Amazon for war,” as Driscoll calls it.
“I desperately believe that the quickest way to fix a lot of the brokenness of the system is to allow classic capitalistic market forces in, where if you have a private business, you are forced to compete for each and every dollar from your customer, each and every day the business exists,” Driscoll says. “And so what that does is that healthy competition makes the products better. In this instance, the customer is the American soldier who has to go fight for our nation, and the cost of inadequacy could be their lives.”
Under Driscoll, the Army created a single marketplace for counter-drone systems. Think sensors, jammers, interceptors. Driscoll had plans to expand the marketplace to tents, boots, electronics — the unglamorous gear that used to take years to buy through legacy contracting. Driscoll also focused on scale. He championed opening the counter-drone marketplace to international allies — including the U.K., Australia, Poland, and South Korea.
ATI also focused on getting soldiers back to soldiering. Line companies and battalions spend only 13 percent of their time on training. The remaining 87 percent goes to what one defense official called “dumb admin.” Under Driscoll, the Army built tools to handle the tasks of dull paperwork.
“People don’t sign up to do spreadsheets,” David Fitzgerald, a former undersecretary of the Army who spearheaded modernization efforts under Driscoll, tells me. “They sign up to go do soldier things.”
From the start, Driscoll says, Trump and Hegseth backed his plans, giving him cover as he cut $48 billion over a five-year period from the budget. They never forced him to sacrifice the “warfighter” for a program because of politics.
“Not a single time,” Driscoll tells me.
BUT CARING FOR the warfighter also meant preparing them for the new kind of war Driscoll witnessed in Ukraine.
The Eastern Flank Deterrence Initiative (EFDI) — nicknamed “the Global Killing Machine” by Army officers — started taking shape in December 2024, the month Gen. Christopher Donahue took command of NATO’s Allied Land Command. It gained momentum after Driscoll became Army secretary. EFDI integrates drones and interceptors, Patriot batteries, and satellite intelligence into a single AI-enabled network. The goal was to replicate it across NATO, the Pacific, and eventually the whole U.S. military. By 2026, it had moved from concept to being part of major multinational exercises in Germany, where the best Ukrainian drone pilots trained with and against American and NATO soldiers.
Pete Hegseth wanted an Instagram-ready Army instead of a modern one.
Witnessing Ukraine adapt while the U.S. lumbered was painful. “In some ways, it was humiliating seeing how quickly a nation could change when it needed to,” Driscoll says. “When you would see what Ukraine’s budget was and how small it was relative to ours and how, despite that, they had better weapons of war, it was a wake-up call.”
Ukraine’s advances in cheap, mass-produced drones were changing the modern battlefield. After 20 years of fighting insurgencies in Iraq and Afghanistan, American soldiers were unprepared for drone swarms and electronic tracking. In May 2025, Driscoll created the Unmanned Assault Battalion — a “drones first” experimental unit made up of 600 soldiers. Based in Italy, the battalion ran its own drone labs, tested electronic-warfare tactics, and worked with Ukrainian advisers.
All of these efforts put the Army at the forefront of modernization, Fitzgerald tells me. At the Army level, Driscoll, George, and Donahue drove the innovation. All three men with combat experience recognized how war had changed, and forged a key and unique partnership inside the Pentagon.
With the Army’s transition underway, George was set to retire in the summer of 2027. Driscoll wanted Donahue to take over when George stepped down in order to keep momentum and scale his EFDI vision to the whole force.
But Hegseth had other plans.
The Purge
Hegseth’s stated goal was to restore the “warrior culture” to the Defense Department and refocus the Pentagon on lethality, meritocracy, and readiness. Under that mandate, Driscoll’s tenure should have meshed. But from the very start, the two were at odds.
While Driscoll and his team went to work streamlining administrative overhead and modernizing the force to be more lethal, Hegseth’s platform focused on physical-readiness standards, traditional discipline, and high-profile media engagements.
Hegseth wanted an Instagram-ready Army instead of a modern one.
An Army officer who served in the Pentagon and spoke under anonymity out of fear of retaliation traces the friction to the defense secretary’s own confirmation. Hegseth barely squeaked through the Senate in 2025, in part over concerns about excessive drinking and a sexual-assault allegation. Nowhere on his résumé as a TV host and junior officer did he show the aptitude to lead an organization as vast as the Defense Department. Driscoll, by contrast, sailed through his hearing on Feb. 25 with no protest.
Soon after his confirmation, Driscoll went to Hegseth with what he thought was a gift: his friendship with the vice president and an offer to use his connections to help the Pentagon. But Hegseth blew up at him, according to two sources briefed on the incident, telling Driscoll that he needed to go through his office before reaching out to the White House, creating a tension between the two men.
“All the guys who had guts and were willing to speak the truth about what we needed to do, they got rid of.”
In response to a detailed list of questions, Sean Parnell, the Pentagon’s chief spokesperson, calls Rolling Stone “fake news” and claims this story is “riddled with made-up claims” about Hegseth’s leadership. “Since day one, Secretary Hegseth has focused on modernization across every branch of our armed forces,” says Parnell, who is Hegseth’s pick to replace Driscoll. “Secretary Hegseth has been a generational secretary for the Pentagon.”
From day one, though, multiple sources say, Hegseth has been more show than substance. He “produces” his day-to-day inside the Pentagon like a TV show, the Army officer who worked at the Pentagon under Driscoll and Hegseth tells me. His press conferences are timed to when the president is likely watching television, and he’s created a social media operation — first reported by The Bulwark — built to manufacture the appearance of organic support for his policies and push back on his many scandals.
Since taking office, Hegseth has fired or blocked the promotions of roughly 10 percent of the military’s top-ranking officers, with at least 20 senior military and civilian officials forced out, including the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, the chief of naval operations, the Army and Air Force chiefs of staff, the judge advocates general of both the Army and Air Force, the head of Southern Command, the NSA director, the Defense Intelligence Agency chief, and both the Army and Navy secretaries, according to reports by The New York Times, CBS News, and NBC News. Black and female officers have been removed from promotion lists at a disproportionate rate, according to news reports. The U.S. military currently has no active four-star women.
“All the guys who had guts and were willing to speak the truth about where we needed to go and what we needed to do, they got rid of, right?” a former senior Army officer tells me. “Because they want people that are compliant and loyal, not people who think. They’re culture warriors. They care about culture. And it’s only their culture, which is compliance and loyalty above your duty.”
The Army was the last service Hegseth purged. Gen. Jim Mingus was forced into retirement in February. Then, in April, Hegseth called George and told him he was out.
George remembers his own firing the way people remember car accidents, mostly about how fast it happened.
“I was right down the hall,” George tells me. “It was a 15-second call.”
When I ask him why it happened, George says he still doesn’t know. “I wasn’t his guy,” George tells me. “I don’t really know — I was never really given a reason.”
Hegseth’s decision to force George into early retirement created a public rift. During an April Defense Appropriations subcommittee hearing, Driscoll praised George as an “amazing, transformative leader” and told lawmakers that he loved him, and even went to his home when he found out about the resignation to support him. Then, in June 2026, Donahue was forced into retirement. Another future-focused leader with combat experience sent packing.
“I think [Driscoll] sacrificed any potential he had [for] a good working relationship with Pete to try to protect those guys,” the former Army official says, “because it was the right thing to do for the Army.”
I ask Driscoll about the forced retirements and his relationship with Hegseth.
“Once he makes a decision, there’s nothing I can do about it,” Driscoll tells me. “I don’t have to like it. But I think it’s unfair to describe our relationship so flatly — that every interaction was bad, or that we disagreed on everything. If you polled us, we probably agreed on more than 50 percent of things. What’s been reported is all the things we disagree on.”
Forced into retirement in June, Donahue held a final ceremony in August at Fort Bragg, inside the Delta Force compound. Driscoll was there. So was George, and by multiple accounts, the mood ran somewhere between a wake and a quiet act of defiance, including attendees referring to Hegseth as “No Tab Pete” because he failed to earn his Ranger qualification during his time in the Army. (The derogatory nickname among service members and Pentagon insiders was made public by The Daily Beast.) Lost on no one present was the fact that Hegseth has none of the qualifications of the commanders he spent the year removing from their posts.
After Fort Bragg, Driscoll went directly to the White House, where he resigned. He wouldn’t talk about the exact reasons he left, nor would he disclose what he said to Trump or Hegseth.
“I’ll never talk about our private conversations,” he tells me, “but we were both very passionate about our positions, and I would advocate as strongly as I possibly could — knowing I’m talking to my boss, and the final decision-maker.”
The White House declined to comment on the meeting, but provided Rolling Stone with a statement praising Driscoll for “advancing President Trump’s agenda to Make America Strong Again,” and for “providing outstanding leadership during historic military operations.”
White House spokesperson Anna Kelly adds that “President Trump has full confidence in Secretary Hegseth and the entire Department of War.”
Underneath the insecurity and personal friction with Driscoll is Hegseth’s mistrust of any general who had served under the previous administration’s leadership — Gen. Mark Milley, in particular, the senior Army officer said. George had worked for Lloyd Austin. To Hegseth, that lineage was disqualifying.
“You’re a one-trick pony, you kind of bang the DEI drum, and it makes good headlines,” the former Army official says. “But the problem is, you’re in an active-shooting war, and there’s got to be a little more depth to it.”
I asked the senior Army officer whether Hegseth’s hostility toward men like Donahue, a former Delta Force commander; George, a Ranger-qualified infantry officer who commanded troops in Iraq and Afghanistan; and Driscoll, who’d earned his Ranger tab, unlike Hegseth, was really about insecurity.
“I think it’s a combination of insecurity and fear,” the senior Army official tells me.
Hegseth has never addressed George’s firing or Donahue’s forced retirement publicly. Pressed for comment, the Pentagon said that general officers serve at the discretion of civilian leadership. But it’s one thing to fire an officer for a battlefield failure. It’s another to fire the Army’s best warfighters, offer no explanation beyond a stated wish to build a “warfighting culture,” and expect the men and women serving under them not to notice the contradiction.
I put the contradiction to Driscoll. Hegseth argues the system doesn’t produce forward-thinking leaders anymore, doesn’t build tough warriors — but George exists. Donahue exists. It doesn’t track that the system is so broken it requires firing the very men who prove it works.
“I viewed my role as to advocate as hard as I could for leaders who I thought were good,” Driscoll tells me. “My job was to push as hard as I possibly could for people and then accept the results when it didn’t go the way that I thought it should. And that’s OK. That’s the system functioning as it was designed.”
Driscoll later adds that if he were tasked with solving the hardest problem in the world, he would get American soldiers to help. “The system creates our best leaders. Our responsibility is just to get out of their way,” he says.
After Driscoll’s departure, the U.S. Army announced plans to roll back many of his initiatives. Acting Chief of Staff Gen. Christopher LaNeve ordered the Unmanned Assault Battalion to return to being a standard airborne infantry unit.
But the former senior Army officer who worked on the program tells me that, before his retirement, Donahue advocated not only for preserving the unit, but also expanding it to other brigade combat teams.
When I asked the former senior Army officer to explain the decision, he couldn’t.
“Nobody can, and neither can they,” he tells me. “And nobody believes them when they say it.”
Speaking to hundreds of U.S. troops at Marine Corps Base Quantico in September, Hegseth unveiled six new initiatives, including the creation of a headquarters for autonomous and drone warfare that would overhaul the Pentagon’s strategy and seems to mirror Driscoll’s plans. Hegseth also doubled down on his culture-war rhetoric, declaring that “fatties, t——s, beardos, weirdos, wimps, [and] radicals” are not welcome in the U.S. Armed Forces.
For his part, Driscoll is doing his best to be a politician, and is careful when pressed on this pivot away from his vision. Army secretaries are temporary is his explanation.
“I was a custodian of the seat for 18 months,” he says. “The average secretary of the Army serves about 27. In the 251-year history of the Army, you are but a speck.”
Nevertheless, that speck was trying to drag the Army into the future. A future where Hegseth’s focus on the culture war, instead of the modern battlefield, leaves the nation vulnerable.
“We will never really know until the next war,” the Army officer who worked at the Pentagon warns, “but it’s going to be measured in American lives — in our sons and daughters coming home in body bags.”
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