The recent viral video of a knife fight between a Russian and Ukrainian soldier provides a stark and brutal reminder of the realities of modern warfare. Captured from the helmet camera of the Ukrainian fighter, the footage is a raw depiction of close combat. The Ukrainian soldier, fatally wounded, calls for a friend who never comes, says goodbye to his mother, and exchanges words of respect with his adversary—acknowledging courage in the midst of mortal struggle. This is war at its most unvarnished, a reminder that despite our technological advances, the essence of combat remains unchanged. It is visceral, personal, and shattering. And it underscores a sobering truth: America is woefully unprepared for the kind of warfare this century demands.
For decades, the United States has oriented its military doctrine around the notion that technology can buffer us from the human costs of war. Unmanned drones, precision-guided munitions, and artificial intelligence promise to reduce the burden on soldiers, removing them from the fog and friction of close combat. But even as technology evolves, war remains an inherently human endeavor. The advent of First Person View (FPV) drones, for example, has paradoxically brought death closer than ever. With these drones, the act of killing is seen through the operator’s eyes, merging technological innovation with the intimate experience of taking a life.
The video from Ukraine reveals that, despite these technological advancements, the fundamentals of war have not changed. The knife fight is an ancient form of combat, a visceral struggle for survival that strips away the abstraction of modern warfare. It is a confrontation of body, mind, and will—and America’s forces are not adequately prepared for such encounters. This failure is not due to a lack of courage or resolve among our troops but rather a systemic neglect of the training and mental fortitude required to face war’s most intimate realities.
The Pentagon’s training programs have become bloated with initiatives that have little to do with the core mission of preparing for war. Distractions unrelated to warfighting must be ruthlessly excised. War does not wait for bureaucracy, and neither should our training. This is not a call for recklessness but for realism—a recognition that the United States must prepare for the wars it might face, not the wars it wishes to avoid.
The next Secretary of Defense must prioritize rigorous, realistic training that focuses on building resilience and adaptability. Real-world scenarios that inoculate soldiers against the psychological and physical stresses of close-quarters battle must become the norm. As it currently stands, our military units are not as combat ready as they should be. As part of this overhaul, there must also be a reorientation towards honesty, particularly as it comes to equipment readiness. Overstated readiness has become part of military culture. In short, lying has become institutionalized. As a result, training needs to be about more than just sharpening technical skills; it means cultivating resilience, emotional endurance, and moral clarity. Such preparation cannot be secondary. It must be central to our military’s mission.
This imperative is particularly urgent given the shifting global landscape. The conflict in Ukraine has implications far beyond Eastern Europe. As the United States manages its response to Russia’s aggression, it sends a signal to allies and adversaries alike. The trajectory of this war will influence China’s calculus on Taiwan, a flashpoint that grows more precarious with each passing year. The increasing partnership between Russia and China underscores the stakes of America’s military readiness.
Moreover, the Arctic—a region long overlooked—is emerging as a critical theater of strategic competition. Russia and China have positioned themselves to dominate this contested space, while America lags behind. The President-elect’s emphasis on the Arctic and his broader pivot toward realism suggest a necessary recalibration of U.S. defense priorities. This is a Hobbesian moment, a reminder that the condition of man is one of perpetual conflict. Peace through strength is not a slogan; it is a necessity. But strength is not just technological superiority or numerical advantage. It is the ability to face war’s unrelenting human demands.
The video from Ukraine is a wake-up call. For too long, America has relied on the illusion that war can be waged from a distance, that precision and technology can substitute for grit and determination. But war does not accommodate illusions. It demands total commitment, physical endurance, and moral clarity. And it punishes those who are unprepared.
The next Secretary of Defense must embrace this challenge with clarity and purpose. The stakes are too high for anything less. As the world grows more dangerous, America’s ability to maintain peace through strength will depend not just on our technology or strategy but on the preparedness of our people. War may be a constant in the human condition, but so too is the capacity for courage, sacrifice, and resilience. It is time to ensure that our military embodies these virtues, not only in word but in deed. The future of our nation’s security—and its soul—depends on it.
Meaghan Mobbs, PhD, is the Director of the Center for American Safety and Security at Independent Women’s Forum.
