The U.S. Army has barely made it through to the revolution of energy-based weapons, whose conception was only a matter of science fiction but is now a reality on the battlefield.

The DE M-SHORAD (Directed Energy Maneuver-Short Range Air Defense) system, characterized by one laser in the 50-kilowatt range mounted in a Stryker, is leading the way – this being the first indication of fighting technology beyond the horizon.

Basically, it is designed to eliminate the ballooning threats of unmanned aerial vehicles, rockets, artillery, and mortars, and it is also a tremendous technical breakthrough – even its debut is a glimpse of armed conflict in the future.

The speed of development is what makes DE M-SHORAD stand out. It took the Army’s Rapid Capabilities and Critical Technologies Office, and its industry partners, barely two years to take the promise of high-energy lasers and transform it into a fully integrated combat-ready system on Stryker vehicles, whereas this was the creation of a completely new capability, designed to shield divisions and brigade combat teams from the modern aerial and indirect fire threats.

Soldiers have been instrumental in getting DE M-SHORAD into the field. The 4th Battalion, 60th Air Defense Artillery Regiment (4-60th ADAR) at Fort Sill was the Army’s first tactical directed energy unit and assisted in creating the system’s tactics, techniques, and procedures.

Training started out in simulators and on surrogate vehicles and then moved to the actual vehicles, allowing crews to learn how to work with the unusual requirements of laser weapon operation.

In a more classic case of user innovation, soldiers even suggested utilizing commercial gaming controllers to control the system—a proposal the Army went along with. Live-fire testing has been equally crucial as lab work. In one operational test, the 4-60th ADAR engaged more than 50 simulated drone threats under realistic conditions, fully integrated with current base defense systems.

Ongoing feedback between the troops in the field and engineers developing the weapon has been critical, allowing each lesson to feed directly into the next version of the system and its doctrine.

In combat, DE M-SHORAD revolutionizes the game of short-range air defense. It can shoot at the speed of light and continue shooting as long as there’s power, so it’s particularly deadly against drone swarms and incoming missiles.

It’s a lot cheaper than missiles per shot, and it’s simpler to logistically support—no moving heavy rounds or resupplying interceptors.

But the Army is pragmatic about the challenges that lie ahead. Lasers are subject to weather, range restrictions, and target type. A recent Government Accountability Office analysis determined that the system is “not mature enough” for mass production, prompting a stop in procurement and a reevaluation of deployment timelines.

Incorporating DE M-SHORAD into existing air defense networks also requires rewriting doctrine, revising training, and changing organizational structures—efforts still underway.

Despite this, having the first DE M-SHORAD prototype in the Fort Sill Museum serves as a testament to how far the technology has developed.

This is merely the beginning. As the Army continues to hone the system, train its operators, and incorporate it into broader defense plans, lessons learned will inform the next generation of air defense—and indicate that the laser age of war isn’t on the horizon anymore. It’s already here.

For a long time, the energy of the Iranian army has been low due to various restrictions that have been in place for a long period of time, and the lack of new and advanced military equipment. Iranian fighter planes have essentially been doing the same job as old US and Russian planes, just a few aircraft from the Cold War period.

The latest prohibition on selling Russian Su-35 fighter aircraft to Iran is a major factor in Tehran’s decision to increase its armed forces and change the local power balance. The Iranian plan for normal arms trade was to be made after the UN bans were lifted in 2020, and the Su-35s were an essential part of the plan for their system upgrade.

Iran-Russia strategic cooperation has grown more robust in recent past. Russia, increasingly isolated from the Western markets because of its wars, turned to Iran for assistance and purchased hundreds of Iranian drones for export. Moscow, on its part, committed to exporting advanced platforms such as Su-35 fighter jets, Mi-28 attack helicopters, and Yak-130 trainers to Tehran. The transaction has alarmed the American and regional allies, who view the increased military cooperation as a destabilizing influence throughout the Middle East.

The Su-35, with roll-out in 2014, is a generation-after-next air-superiority fighter with high avionics, thrust-vectoring engines, and variable weaponry payload. To Iran, whose military air presence is comprised largely of old F-4 Phantoms, F-5 Tigers, and MiG-29s, the Su-35 would be a quantum leap. Iranian authorities have also commented on the deterrent potential of these planes, speculating that they provide more room for the nation to protect its interests and advance its presence in the region.

It is not an easy task to incorporate the Su-35 into the Iranian fleet of aircraft. Pilots and maintenance crews need to be trained on extremely advanced radar, electronic warfare, and weapons systems. Logistics and maintenance problems are also of major concern, as Iran’s current infrastructure will not be capable of hosting such highly developed aircraft. Integration with older aircraft will involve communications, data link, and command net enhancements, which will make operations planning more complex.

The response in the region has been immediate. Israel, whose military continues to have the most sophisticated air force in the Middle East, views Su-35 purchases as an unmistakable provocation. Israeli officials had reportedly been pushing Moscow to reverse or postpone the sale out of concern about strengthening Tehran and its allies in Syria and Lebanon. Gulf Arab nations, already concerned about Iran’s missile and drone capacity, are reassessing their defense, some purchasing sophisticated weapons like the F-35 from the West.

For the West, the sale is a demonstration of sanctions and arms embargoes’ ineffectiveness. While UN restrictions legally lapsed to enable Iran to buy conventional weapons, acquiring top-of-the-line fighters and other systems is stirring fears of regional security. The controversies have been defined on whether more preventive action is necessary to restrict the spread of cutting-edge military technology.

Despite all the news centered around it, the near-term regional impact of Su-35s is not straightforward. Iran will be qualitatively enhanced in air weapons rather than quantitatively. With less than a couple of dozen planes anticipated for delivery, Israel’s arsenal, bolstered by fifty or so F-35s and hundreds of other cutting-edge aircraft, remains technologically well ahead. Su-35s will increase Iran’s defense and deterrence, but will not attack Israel or US forces in an open war.

Politically, the agreement is a pragmatic compromise between Moscow and Tehran. Russia wants to counter Western influence in the area and secure the services of an experienced, proven ally, while Iran wants to update its military without getting too deeply involved in Russia’s geopolitical struggles. Both countries seem happy with a loose, transactional relationship, as opposed to a formal, full-fledged alliance, so that each may enjoy the freedom of action to act independently.

Inthe the coming years, Iran-Russia defense ties can move closer to co-production abilities, further intensified drone and missile cooperation, and integration of cutting-edge systems. Issues persist—delivery speed, technical assistance, and potential political crisis likelihood.

To local strategists, Russian Su-35s in Iran do not signify more than an arms sale—it signifies a harbinger of shifting alliances, shifting deterrence requirements, and a time of more uncertainty in regional security.

The Sukhoi Su-57 Felon was Russia’s ambitious attempt to be among the fifth-generation stealth fighter elite — a flight unit full of sophisticated technology to bring Russian aerospace back to the headlines and compete against America’s top fighter jets, such as F-22 and F-35. However, it is not a perfect situation. The Su-57, rather than encountering difficulties, has been subjected to delays, troubles in manufacturing, as well as the uncertainty of its function in the rapidly evolving military environment.

The Su-57 project was started as early as the 2000s under the PAK FA program. It was to create a multi-role fighter that would dominate the air, attack targets on the ground, and perform reconnaissance. It featured stealth technology, a lot of lightweight composite materials, hidden armament bays, and cutting-edge avionics.

The plane was designed to be incredibly maneuverable in the air, with smart systems onboard — some went so far as calling the flight computer an “electronic co-pilot” — and radar spread all across the airframe to watch out for threats coming in from all angles.

Artificial intelligence was built into its communication and data systems so that pilots could get ahead of their competition and make fast decisions under difficult conditions. Russia’s state producers asserted that the technology made it possible for the plane to send encrypted information at high rates, helping to increase reconnaissance and combat effectiveness.

On paper, the Su-57 is impressive. It has a top speed of twice the speed of sound, a range of over 2,000 miles, and can accommodate hypersonic missiles and precise smart weapons. Its sensors can track multiple targets at once, and its artificial intelligence can learn from mission results to be a more effective tactician and help maintain the plane out of harm’s way. Its slender, angled shape with radar-absorbing materials and engines concealed within is intended to make it invisible to enemy radar, especially head-on.

But in reality, it has not been smooth sailing. Sanctions from the West have bitten Russia, keeping it from accessing key components like cutting-edge electronics and special materials employed in order to attain stealth. The Su-57’s radar, which was initially built based on German technology, is most affected. Efforts to replace these components with imports from other countries have not been straightforward, and there is doubt about the availability of these alternatives.

Because of these problems, very few Su-57s are operational. By late 2024, only about 22 had been delivered, including test and production models. Official targets for attaining higher numbers in subsequent years now seem unrealistic. Every Su-57 is a treasure — when one of them was hit in an attack in the Astrakhan region, it was losing an expensive part of Russia’s cutting-edge fighter capability. Replacing these planes is time-consuming and expensive, with limited spares, while Russia churns out more proven aircraft like the Su-30SM2 and Su-35S to fill gaps.

In action, the Su-57 has had a limited role in the war in Ukraine. Russia has been cautious about risking its precious few jets in contested airspace, not wanting to lose expensive, advanced technology and damage the jet’s global reputation. That self-restraint has meant the Su-57 has had little impact so far. Instead, Russia employs upgraded older jets, which may not be as advanced but are abundant and less expensive to repair.

As for exports to foreign nations, it has taken some time. Algeria has been the first customer, buying six Su-57E fighter aircraft, with pilots training in Russia, and talks of follow-on purchases. It is partly a question of keeping pace with fellow regional actors who possess advanced fighters. But the order is small, and there are no other sizable sales in the offing. India, which had initially planned to co-design with Russia a fighter jet, pulled out in 2018, unhappy with the Su-57’s stealth and electronic features. The reputation of the aircraft has also been tarnished by sightings of blatant flaws at airshows and problems concerning the overall quality of manufacture.

Compared to Western competitors, the problems of the Su-57 are more glaring. The U.S. already has over a thousand F-35s in production globally, backed by a colossal supply chain and rigorous quality assurance. Both the F-22 and F-35 are the stealth and sensor technology gold standards with proven combat histories and stable flight profiles. Russia’s aircraft, while rumored to be capable of neutralizing Western air defense, is seen by the majority of experts as still looking for its sea legs in stealth technology.

Despite all this, the Su-57 remains a central part of Russia’s long-term military strategy. The Kremlin sees it as an icon of national pride and a way to stay in line with other great powers. But with ongoing sanctions and production problems, the Su-57 risks being more of a prestige program than a front-line changer of the game. The global arms market is watching, but for now, Russia’s leading-edge fighter is having trouble flying on the runway and worldwide.

Those long-range, high-tech missiles provide Kyiv with the opportunity to target locations well beyond the front lines. The missiles penetrate both the occupied areas in Ukraine and, in fact, for the first time, deep into Russia to strike at the places the Russian army has.

The U.S. approval to attack Russian soil was a huge change in the game. In a lot of previous conflicts, the U.S. administration used to choose a different way. They were frightened that such attacks might escalate the conflict into larger hazards.

That calculation was transformed once it had come to light that North Korean soldiers were collaborating with Russian troops in the Kursk province, and, at the same time, there were growing doubts about the continuation of the decision to provide military aid to Kyiv by the American political authority. As the BBC disseminated the news, the decision was most commonly interpreted as being made to support Ukraine’s position ahead of any possible change in US policy.

Ukraine did not delay in testing its new range. Its initial confirmed ATACMS attack within Russia struck a missile storage facility near Karachev in the Bryansk province—about 70 miles from the border. The explosion obliterated huge caches of artillery shells, anti-aircraft missiles, and other ordnance, with drones said to have assisted the mission. Russia said most of the missiles were shot down, but video evidence indicated the facility took serious damage.

The attacks didn’t end there. Ukrainian troops subsequently struck Russian military targets in the Kursk region, including a battalion of S-400 surface-to-air missiles around Lotarevka—Russia’s most sophisticated air defense system and its response to the U.S. Patriot.

The Russian Defense Ministry acknowledged that two out of five incoming missiles penetrated the defenses, destroying a radar and causing casualties. Another attack was made on the Khalino air base, although Moscow played down the extent of the damage. For the Kremlin to publicly acknowledge any losses at all is unusual—and telling.

In Crimea, ATACMS have been equally disconcerting. A minimum of ten were employed to strike S-300 and S-400 sites throughout the peninsula, destroying or knocking out systems and killing operators. Independent satellite imagery verified the damage, including at the strategically significant node of Dzhankoy. The strikes compelled Russia to relocate its air defenses further from the front line, making it more difficult to resupply them and leaving some less defended.

Russia’s reply of punches has been both verbal and artillery. On the ground, it has heightened missile and drone strikes against Ukrainian cities, targeting energy infrastructure—a campaign Amnesty International has dubbed a war crime for deliberately targeting civilian essentials.

Politically, the Kremlin has cranked up its nuclear threats. Spokesman Dmitry Peskov cautioned that NATO-supplied missile attacks on Russian soil might qualify under Moscow’s new doctrine as nuclear retaliation targets, which now include attacks by non-nuclear nations supported by nuclear powers.

Strategically, ATACMS have disrupted Russia’s feeling of security. With a range of 300 kilometers, they place once “safe” targets—airfields, command centers, supply depots—firmly within reach. This has caused Moscow to spread equipment, push aircraft further into its own country, and increase air defenses. For Ukraine, the payoff on the battlefield is obvious: interdicting logistics, weakening defenses, and boosting morale at a time when combat in the east is particularly fierce.

Nevertheless, Western analysts warn against hyping the missiles’ effect too much. Ukraine’s ATACMS supply is limited, and Russia is already reshaping its tactics. The missiles will not determine the war by themselves, and U.S. political shifts can restrict future shipments.

Despite that, their deployment has redefined the limits of this war. The introduction of ATACMS demonstrated how a single change in military policy can remake strategy, change calculations of risk, and introduce new unpredictability into a conflict already anything but predictable.

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In case you had a chat with airplane fanatics, you would know that the McDonnell Douglas F-4 Phantom II is not only one of the most famous aircraft of all time but also a legend. With more than 5,000 units made from 1958 to 1981, this one is still the most prolific supersonic military plane in history. Its combat history is like a showcase of the might of the West during the Cold War era. We are going to learn about its five most legendary missions and its incredible service to the U.S. military.

5. Shooting Down Enemy Air Defenses (SEAD)

The Phantom was all about dogfighting, yet it also had a critical mission: tracking down enemy radar installations. The F-4G Wild Weasel that appeared in the 1970s had a pilot and an electronic warfare officer teaming up to lure enemy air defenses into displaying their radar emissions.

Once the radars were activated, the pilots would home in on those locations and destroy them with anti-radiation missiles. It was a dangerous job that was vital in Vietnam and the subsequent Gulf War, clearing the air so other planes could carry out their mission in safety. 

4. Owning the Skies (Air Superiority)

The Phantom was meant to dominate the skies. F-4s carried out air superiority missions with missiles like the AIM-7 Sparrow and AIM-9 Sidewinder, and anti-radar missiles like the AGM-45 Shrike and AGM-88 HARM during Operation Desert Storm. At a top speed of Mach 2 and able to fly above 60,000 feet, the Phantom was the one to beat. It protected Kuwaiti airspace, launching dozens of missiles and confronting enemy fighters head-on.

3. Interfering with enemy supply lines (Air Interdiction)

Aerial strikes against enemy supply lines and bases were one of the most critical missions for the Phantom. It could carry up to nearly 19,000 pounds of missiles, rockets, and bombs across nine outboard hardpoints.

The fact that it could switch from air-to-air combat to ground attacks made it the choice among commanders who needed firepower that was flexible. Such missions had the objective of weakening the enemy before their forces had even reached the front lines.

2. Defense of the Bombers (Strike Escort)

Over the heavily defended North Vietnamese skies, F-4s were regularly utilized as escorts, protecting bombers and attack aircraft from enemy fighters. Close-knit formation, flying in small clusters together, their purpose was to identify and destroy the dangers before they could strike the primary strike force.

Phantom’s speed, firepower, and agility made it well-suited for a defensive mission of this sort. If required, it could drop its bombs and engage in dogfighting to provide cover for its squadron.

1. Supporting Ground Troops (Close Air Support)

Close air support—striking right with ground troops—was one of the Phantom’s greatest functions in Vietnam. Thailand-based and Korean-based units carried out CAS missions, dropping general-purpose bombs, rockets, and missiles. The Phantom, with its huge payload and flexibility, could deliver crushing blows precisely where troops most needed support, often decisive in turning battles that had been hard to win.

Other than its fighter roles, the F-4 Phantom II was a genuine pioneer. It was one of the first of its type to try out analog fly-by-wire controls and was able to reach Mach 2 on such equipment. Over the years, it was present in many configurations—from the carrier-capable Navy F-4B to the Air Force ground attack F-4E, reconnaissance RF-4C, and electronic warfare F-4G Wild Weasel. Its twin J-79 engines, advanced radar, and wide range of weaponry made it valuable for decades.

The legacy of the Phantom is not merely museum exhibits and model kits. Its ghost endures in modern-day fighter planes, proof of American ingenuity and the constant quest to dominate the skies in an always-changing realm of aerial warfare.

The General Dynamics F-111 Aardvark was one of the difficult-to-find jets that were almost ten times ahead of their time. F-111 had the beauty and the power at the same time, it was the combination of raw speed, state-of-the-art technology, and great versatility in operations that allowed it to perform the same wworkless than any other aircraft. In fact, it was a Frankenstein adaptation, as a result of the negotiations and political scandals that were taking place in the mid-1960s, which merged the two air fleets to create a bomber that was faster, more powerful, and of longer range, capable of flying any place on the Earth, and in any weather condition.

The concept started in 1962 under the Tactical Fighter Experimental (TFX) program. The Pentagon desired a single aircraft that would be capable of deep strike, air superiority, and nuclear delivery. On paper, it would be cheaper and easier to logistically support. In reality, it was problematic. The Navy required a lighter, more responsive vehicle for carrier landings, whereas the Air Force desired speed with long range and heavy payloads.

Ultimately, the Navy walked away due to weight and landing issues, but the Air Force continued. The outcome was the F-111A for tactical bombing and the FB-111A for longer-range strategic nuclear bombs. General Dynamics won the contract in that same year, and in 1964, the first production version rolled off the assembly lines.

What differentiated the F-111 was its swing-wing design. Pilots were able to sweep the wings aft more than 70 degrees for searing supersonic dashes, or out to only 16 degrees for takeoff, landing, and low-speed flight. This provided the Aardvark with incredible flexibility—able to scream down over Mach 2.2 in one instant, then descend to treetop altitude the next to slip by enemy radar. It could even operate from short runways and fly across oceans without refueling.

Innovation permeated its design. The F-111 had terrain-following radar—a computerized system that allowed it to fly a few hundred feet off the ground at high speed, both day and night, rain or shine. The sophisticated avionics package integrated navigation, targeting, and communications in a manner that few aircraft had done previously. Even its attitude toward pilot safety was unconventional: rather than having individual ejection seats, both pilots occupied a detachable escape pod that could blow off the plane and serve as a survival capsule in the water or on land.

Its twin Pratt & Whitney TF30 afterburning turbofans each generated over 25,000 pounds of thrust, providing it with fantastic performance and range—over 2,500 nautical miles on internal fuel only. Payload capacity was also impressive. The F-111 could be equipped with up to 24 conventional or nuclear armaments, including precision-guided bombs and the AGM-69 SRAM missile. Clever pivoting pylons kept bombs and fuel tanks aligned with airflow regardless of wing position.

In an age when most planes were specialists, the F-111 was a generalist. It could function as a tactical bomber, a long-range nuclear strike vehicle, a reconnaissance plane, or even an electronic warfare plane. And it performed each with an effectiveness that won the respect of allies and enemies alike.

Its combat record showed just how effective it was. In Vietnam, F-111s made deep penetration attacks against strongly defended targets, frequently at night, and were called “Whispering Death.” In 1986, F-111Fs of the U.K. made one of history’s longest fighter missions on Operation El Dorado Canyon to attack Libya after a demanding 6,400-mile round trip. During the Gulf War, they were used as the weapon of choice for dark-of-night precision attacks, knocking out more than 1,500 armored vehicles and strategic infrastructure—better even than the A-10 at killing tanks.

The electronic warfare variant, the EF-111A Raven, assumed a role totally different. Converted by Grumman, it traded bombs for robust jamming systems contained in a large underbelly radome and wingtip pods. The Electronic Warfare Officer occupied the right-hand seat and operated the jammers. During Desert Storm, Ravens played a vital role in shutting down enemy radar and shielding strike packages from surface-to-air missiles. Loss of one EF-111A in a low-level defense maneuver called for significant modifications in tactical training.

The F-111’s legacy can be found in planes that followed it. The F-14 Tomcat, Panavia Tornado, and even Soviet designs all borrowed from its swing-wing design. Its avionics and low-level strike performance set the standard for decades. The concept of having one plane perform many jobs has been adopted by jets such as the F-15E Strike Eagle and F-35 Lightning II.

In spite of its rough beginning and inter-service politics, the F-111 matured into a pillar of U.S. and Australian air power for almost four decades. Its combination of speed, range, payload, and survivability proved adaptability to be as useful as specialization. The Aardvark no longer flies combat missions, but the lessons it learned—and the technologies it brought—continue to fly high in the designs of contemporary warplanes.