The U.S. Army’s advance into directed energy weapons has gone from science fiction to the battlefield of today.

Leading the charge is the Directed Energy Maneuver-Short Range Air Defense (DE M-SHORAD) system—a laser weapon in the 50-kilowatt class mounted in a Stryker, representing a new era of war-fighting technology.

Created to neutralize the rapidly expanding threats of drones, rockets, artillery, and mortars, it’s an engineering breakthrough—more than that, a preview of the future of war.

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.

The .41 Remington Magnum holds a unique position amongst the past of handguns – a midway solution between the heavy blow of the .44 Magnum and the lesser recoil of the .357 Magnum. As such, it was designed to be the “Goldilocks” round: quite powerful enough for hard work but not so terrifying as to discourage the shooter. Nevertheless, its story has been a mixture of promise, failure, and a devoted bunch of enthusiasts who are not willing to accept its extinction.

The concept of the .41 Magnum began forming during the early 1960s, courtesy of three of the most influential voices in the world of shooting sports: Elmer Keith, Bill Jordan, and Skeeter Skelton. They all felt that law enforcement required a revolver cartridge that existed in ideal harmony between stopping power and ease of control. Together with Smith & Wesson, Colt, Ruger, and Remington, his dreams came true in 1964 when the cartridge and the Smith & Wesson Model 57 revolver were introduced.

Ballistically, the .41 Magnum falls in between its noted siblings. It expels a .410-inch bullet, with standard factory ammunition propelling a 210-grain bullet down range at 1,200 to 1,500 feet per second, varying by load and barrel length. The result? A flat-shooting revolver round with muzzle energy equal to the .44 Magnum but a little milder recoil—a combination that is still enjoyed by shooters today.

But among its initial target audience—police officers—the .41 Magnum had a tough row to hoe. Revolvers such as the Model 57 and the more practical Model 58 were heavy N-frame revolvers that most officers found cumbersome. Even the “police load” models, which were made to reduce recoil, still kicked harder than the .38 Special revolvers most departments were issuing at the time. The popularity of semi-automatic handguns in law enforcement and the .44 Magnum’s pop culture popularity (due in part to “Dirty Harry”) hurt its prospects.

Where the .41 truly gained a following was in hunting and target shooting. Handgun hunters appreciated its flat trajectory and how it could efficiently bring down deer, hogs, and even black bears without the wrist-jarring recoil of the larger magnums. Silhouette shooters also enjoyed its accuracy and consistency, which made it a favorite at long-range handgun competitions.

Nevertheless, the .41 Magnum never had the broad ammo and gun range as the .44. Its model stock has always been more specialized, but it’s hardly gone out of business. Hornady, Remington, Federal, and Underwood still make good-quality loads, including high-end hunting bullets such as the XTP and Swift A-Frame. Revolver enthusiasts can discover it in such classic lines as the Smith & Wesson Model 57, Ruger Blackhawk, and Ruger Redhawk, and some lever-action rifles preserve the caliber in the long-gun scene.

Today, the .41 Remington Magnum is a cult hi, adhered to for its combination of power, accuracy, and shootability. Handloaders particularly appreciate tuning it to everything from soft-shooting range ammunition to heavy big-game loads.

It might never have been the commercial hit that its inventors hoped, but the .41 Magnum’s combination of power and sophistication guarantees it will forever occupy a place of honor in the arsenals of shooters who care more about performance than popularity.

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With fighter jets, speed is not a bragging point—it can be the difference between life and death in battle. It’s a tactical advantage, an engineering challenge, and a matter of pride for pilots and designers. And yet, in a world where stealth and sensors can be more important than pure thrust, which planes still reign supreme in terms of raw velocity? Let’s count down the fastest fighter jets in service right now, beginning at number ten.

10. McDonnell Douglas F-4 Phantom II

A Cold War legend, the F-4 Phantom II continues to serve with Turkish, Greek, and Iranian air forces. With its twin General Electric J79 engines, it could make Mach 2.23 at 40,000 feet. Its design wasn’t precisely streamlined, which earned it the quip, “A brick can fly if you put a big enough engine on it.” Early models didn’t even come equipped with a built-in gun—missiles were supposed to render dogfighting obsolete—until combat experience demonstrated otherwise, and a gun pod was added.

9. Lockheed Martin F-22 Raptor

The F-22 is the sole stealth aircraft in this roster and the first true fifth-generation fighter. With a top speed of 2.25 Mach at 40,000 feet, it’s also a supercruiser—able to sustain speeds over Mach 1.8 without afterburners. That translates to more range, less fuel consumption, and no external stores to drag it down. Though highly capable, fewer than 200 were produced, and only the U.S. Air Force operates them.

8. IAI Kfir

Israel’s IAI Kfir is a hot-rodded version of the Mirage 5 with an American General Electric J79-J1E turbojet. It flies at up to about Mach 2.3 at 36,000 feet. Aging airframes might not reach that number these days, but their combination of agility and speed has kept them in service in Colombia and among private military contractors for training and aggressor missions.

7. Mikoyan MiG-29 Fulcrum

The MiG-29 was designed as a smaller, more maneuverable partner to the Su-27 and as an answer to the F-16. With a Mach 2.3 top speed, it’s renowned for its handling—aided by its twin engines and short airframe. Its drawback? Short range, and it can’t go supersonic with outside fuel tanks. As pilots like to say, when it comes to a dogfight, it’s as much about the driver as the vehicle itself.

6. Grumman F-14 Tomcat

The Navy’s iconic F-14 Tomcat, which had variable-sweep wings, could reach Mach 2.3 at 40,000 feet. With the mighty AWG-9 radar and AIM-54 Phoenix missiles, it could lock onto aircraft as far away as 90 miles. Pilots remember that a lightly loaded, clean F-14 could fly even faster than its official rating indicated—though its carrier deck-dominating days are behind it.

5. Mikoyan-Gurevich MiG-23 Flogger

Another swing-wing design, the MiG-23 was constructed as a high-speed interceptor. Priced to fly at Mach 2.35, it had advanced radar and long-range targeting available for its era. Less agile than more contemporary designs, its short runway launch capability provided it with Cold War strategic flexibility.

4. Sukhoi Su-27 Flanker

One of the finest Soviet combatants, the Su-27 has a top speed of Mach 2.35. It was designed for power and payload as well as speed, and its airframe has led to an entire family of variants, such as the Su-30, Su-34, and Su-35.

More than 1,200 Flankers remain in service around the globe; it is one of the most ubiquitous fighter designs in use.

3. McDonnell Douglas F-15 Eagle

Designed to replace the MiG-25, the F-15 was the fastest mass-produced fighter to date, reaching Mach 2.5. It also has a perfect combat record—more than 100 kills with no air-to-air loss. The new F-15EX can theoretically hit Mach 2.9, although that speed hasn’t been tried in public. 

2. Mikoyan MiG-31 Foxhound

A direct follow-up to the MiG-25, the MiG-31 has a top speed of Mach 2.83 at high altitude, though speed limits keep it at around Mach 1.5 to avoid destruction. It’s not only fast—its sophisticated radar, long-range missiles, and hypersonic weapon capacity make it one of the most lethal interceptors in the skies.

1. Mikoyan-Gurevich MiG-25 Foxbat

Even still, the speed record holder for any fighter ever produced, the MiG-25 can reach Mach 2.83—and higher in short-term bursts—at more than 70,000 feet.

The product of late ’60s development to intercept high-speed bombers and reconnaissance planes, it prompted the creation of the F-15 by the U.S. Its very high speed, however, sacrificed maneuverability, but for pure velocity, nothing else has come close.

Why Aren’t Fighters Getting Faster?

Almost all of the world’s fastest jets were created during the Cold War. Current fighters only break Mach 1.2 in real combat because contemporary air warfare favors stealth, sophisticated sensors, and long-range missiles over pure speed.

Interceptor missions do continue to gain from high speeds, but after some point, speed confers little benefit while burning fuel and stressing airframes. Even sixth-generation concepts will have a top speed between Mach 2.2 and Mach 2.5. In other words, they don’t build speed demons like they used to—by choice.

There has been silence on the radio for more than 20 years after the last Concorde flight, but the idea of a commercial supersonic flight is once again flying—this time led by a daring American startup. Not just one sonic boom, but the first very loud supersonic flying discord or shock wave was made by the Boom Supersonic XB-1 demonstrator. It also overturned the idea that only very rich governments could go beyond the limits of supersonic flight. This way from rough drafts to an achieved flight faster than sound is a landmark in the current era of space flight, personnel, and materials technology, combining successful engineering, regulatory zeal, and a pinch of bravado.

Dubbed the “Baby Boom,” the XB-1 is a one-third-scale technology demonstrator for Boom’s planned Overture airliner. Its aerodynamic, 62.6-foot fuselage is constructed of lightweight carbon fiber composites and contains advanced avionics and aerodynamics optimized using digital modeling. Three General Electric J85-15 turbojets generate over 12,000 pounds of thrust, enough to propel it to supersonic speeds. As Boom notes, it’s the first private company-built civil supersonic jet—an unmissable indication of the transition from state-sponsored to privately initiated breakthroughs.

Flight testing commenced at Mojave Air & Space Port, a site rich in aviation heritage, in the same airspace where Chuck Yeager shattered the sound barrier in 1947. Initial flights concentrated on handling, stability checks, and airspeed verification at different altitudes. With every flight, the XB-1 extended its boundaries, from Mach 0.82 at more than 23,000 feet in flutter and pressurization tests, to increasingly faster speeds in preparation for its main event.

That milestone came when lead test pilot Tristan “Geppetto” Brandenburg flew the plane beyond Mach 1.1 at over 35,000 feet. Chase aircraft—a Mirage F1 and a T-38 Talon—accompanied it to track its systems and document the feat. Industry experts hailed the importance, with retired Concorde captain Mike Bannister labeling it “a major step toward making sustainable supersonic flight a reality.”

Perhaps the most stunning thing about the flight was what those on the ground did not hear. Owing to the XB-1’s shape and the Mach cutoff effect, microphones along the flight path received no audible sonic boom. This discovery impacts the heart of a longstanding Federal Aviation Administration prohibition, since 1973, against supersonic overland flight for fear of noise. The XB-1’s stealthy accomplishment portends a future in which high-speed travel could be achieved without the shockwave effects of previous supersonic planes. 

The XB-1 is not just a test aircraft—it’s a stepping stone to the Overture airliner, which will transport 64 to 80 passengers at Mach 1.7 on hundreds of possible routes. Plans have it to fly solely on sustainable aviation fuel, which goes a long way in fixing one of Concorde’s greatest weaknesses: fuel-thirsty and emissions-intensive operations.

Boom’s newly opened Superfactory in Greensboro, North Carolina, has the production capability of assembling up to 66 aircraft annually, with 130 already on order or booked by key airlines such as American Airlines, United Airlines, and Japan Airlines.

Regulatory challenges persist. Though FAA regulations continue to restrict civilian supersonic flight over land, Congress has called on the agency to reconsider the rules and evaluate new certification requirements. Commercial availability of the XB-1’s quiet flight could dramatically alter the regulatory environment.

Aside from passenger flight, Boom is also seeking defense uses with Northrop Grumman, in the form of special-mission Overture variants for rapid-response transport, medical evacuation, and surveillance. The U.S. Air Force already granted Boom a $60 million contract to speed up development, demonstrating genuine interest in supersonic mobility for strategic missions.

The possible effects are far-reaching beyond the domain of flight. Quicker global links have the power to accelerate economic development, consolidate cultural relationships, and speed up scientific and commercial cooperation. Breakthroughs such as the XB-1’s supersonic flight can even reawaken public enthusiasm for technology, reminding us of what happens when resolve is paired with innovation.

From its initial line on a sketching board to its moment when it broke the sound barrier, the XB-1 is evidence that the supersonic future of travel is no longer relegated to books on history. With every successful test, high-speed passenger flight comes nearer as an inevitable reality.

Perhaps you have been at a police or military armory and overheard a conversation about the Glock 47, without knowing it. The 47 has been on everyone’s lips since the U.S. Customs and Border Protection made public the entry of this 9mm full-size semi-automatic handgun. And the buzz around this weapon keeps growing as it’s now available for the civilian shooting community.

Glock 47 was not conjured overnight. The Glock 47 emerged because U.S. Customs and Border Protection were looking for a replacement sidearm for their old HK P2000s. They needed something modular, dependable, and inexpensive. Glock’s solution was to take the best of its best-selling pistols—the Glock 17, Glock 19, and Glock 45—and merge them into one single design that would make parts, maintenance, and logistics more straightforward.

What sets the Glock 47 apart is its modularity. You can liken it to the Swiss Army knife of duty pistols. It sports a full-size frame with a 17-round magazine and a 4.49-inch barrel—just like the Glock 17—for rock-solid accuracy and control.

But the dust cover is slightly shorter, so you can exchange it in a slide from a Glock 19 Gen 5 or Glock 45 Gen 5 without issue. For big agencies, this type of parts compatibility makes it much easier to handle fleets of pistols, saving money and making repairs easier.

The specs fit all the needs of a modern duty gun. It has a polymer body with steel inside, a steel top with a special rust-proof coat, and a sharp-shooting barrel by Glock for better aim. The MOS type is ready for optics, so putting on a red dot sight is quick and simple. It has easy-to-use controls for both hands, swap-out backstraps, and a wide mag slot to make it comfy and fit for all hand types and holding ways.

At the shooting range, the Glock 47 acts just as expected for a gun picked by the biggest police group in the U.S. It is simple to manage its recoil, its aim is steady, and the Gen 5 trigger gives a smooth pull with a clear reset. Whether used for defense or just training, it holds up and does well, even in tough times.

When you compare it to the Glock 17, many things are similar—they use the same bullet, they have the same capacity, and are roughly the same size. But the Glock 47 has a nice attribute: it can interchange parts like tops and barrels with other Gen 5 models, such as the Glock 19. This gives it more freedom than the Glock 17, allowing you to change it for different purposes without a new gun.

For the police, this feature means the possibility of reducing the number of different types of equipment, making training more efficient, and facilitating maintenance. On the other hand, for firearm owners, especially those with Generation 5 Glocks, it is a chance to customize their weapon for sport shooting, safety, or simply because of an adaptable firearm.

The Glock 47 is not just a large 9mm gun. It’s a sturdy, reliable tool for work and everyday use. It combines Glock’s famous reliability with the changing needs of today’s user; thus, it would be a rational choice if you were on duty or just out at the range on a weekend.

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Enola Gay, the B-29 Superfortress that dropped the first atomic bomb on Hiroshima, might be the most talked-about aircraft in history in terms of ethical issues. As the conflict was terminated by a single flight, paradoxically, it was also mankind’s first nuclear era, a separation line that, to this day, causes a very intense discussion among academics, veterans, and laypeople.

The Enola Gay was not an ordinary bomber rolling off the line in 1945. It belonged to a small group of specially modified B-29s under the top-secret “Silverplate” program, altered to carry the massive and unprecedented atomic bomb. To make it light enough and fast enough for the mission, armor was stripped away, the usual defensive turrets were removed, and only a tail gun remained. Each modification was purposeful, all in preparation for Little Boy, a uranium bomb that weighed more than 10,000 pounds and would change the course of history.

Initially designated only as aircraft No. 82, it received its permanent name on the night before the mission. Its commander, Colonel Paul Tibbets, of the 509th Composite Group, selected it himself and commanded the crew to paint his mother’s name, Enola Gay, on the fuselage. By then, the aircraft and crew had worked tirelessly in training, rehearsing with “pumpkin bombs” modeled after the bomb they were to drop.

For President Harry Truman, the decision to use the bomb was not an in vacuo one. The war in the Pacific had been grinding on at a ghastly human expense. In its own right, conventional firebombing missions had already taken thousands of lives, and planners of invasion anticipated appalling numbers of American and Japanese casualties if the war went on. A test of the bomb posed the risk of failure, and officials were concerned it would not bring Japan to its knees. Ultimately, the choice was made for use with direct delivery, thought to be the quickest means of ending the war.

With dawn on August 6, 1945, Tibbets and his team took off from Tinian Island, a vast base constructed to deliver the final punches into Japan. At 8:15 a.m., above the city of Hiroshima, bombardier Thomas Ferebee dropped Little Boy. The bomb exploded in the air about 2,000 feet above ground, releasing energy equivalent to around 15,000 tons of TNT.

The explosion vaporized a large portion of the city in an instant, ground-zero temperatures rose above 5,000 degrees Fahrenheit, and tens of thousands were incinerated almost immediately. In the following days and weeks, radiation killed thousands more. The crew of the Enola Gay, which was miles away when the shockwave hit, stood in stunned silence as a towering mushroom cloud mushroomed into the sky, aware that they had released a weapon the world had never known before.

Three days after that, a second atomic bomb was dropped on Nagasaki. On August 15, Emperor Hirohito declared Japan’s surrender, ending the bloodiest war in human history. But the decision’s moral legitimacy was called into question from the very start and has been to this day.

Many Americans, including crew members on the Enola Gay, thought the bombings averted an invasion that would have cost even more lives. Others protested at the time, as they do today, that the use of such weapons to annihilate entire cities was inhumane and unnecessary. 

Postwar, the Enola Gay itself disappeared from view. Broken down and stored, it would not be seen again for decades, when it was laboriously restored and put on exhibit at the Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum. Its display in the 1990s became a fight in itself—curators had originally wanted to include the larger context, including Japanese viewpoints and the destruction of the bombing, but vociferous protests from veterans’ groups and political pressure downsized the exhibit to concentrate primarily on the plane itself.

Even now, the Enola Gay remains at the center of controversy. To some, it is a relic of technological progress and the instrument that finally brought an end to a senseless war. To others, it is inextricably linked to one of humanity’s darker moments. In its sleek aluminum casing, individuals recognize both victory and tragedy, pride and sorrow. Its display within the museum is not simply about flight—it is a reminder of how countries remember war, and how they struggle with the tension between strategy and humanity.

The Enola Gay continues to be more than a historical artifact of World War II. It is a testament to the way innovation can transform warfare in an instant, and an ongoing challenge to how we define victory, responsibility, and the true cost of peace.