Welcome to Dispatch: U.S. Military History Magazine. This is “This Week in U.S. Military History,” where we walk through key moments that share this week on the calendar. Today we’re exploring events from March twenty fourth, two thousand twenty six through March thirtieth, two thousand twenty six.
Across the dates from March twenty fourth through March thirtieth, the calendar ties together a surprising mix of American stories of arms and service. On these same seven days in other years, colonists argued over whether soldiers could sleep in their homes, shipwrights laid the keels for the first frigates of a permanent navy, and Marines fought over black volcanic sand in the Pacific. In this one slice of the calendar we see a young republic reaching toward Veracruz and then Alaska, an industrial Union army tightening its grip around Petersburg, and later generations wrestling with the hard lessons of Vietnam. We also see quieter but powerful episodes, from the first Medals of Honor for raiders who risked the gallows, to the loss of an early submarine in deep water, to a remote surface battle fought in the fog near the Aleutian chain. This Week in U.S. Military History is part of Dispatch: U.S. Military History Magazine, developed by Trackpads dot com, and it reminds us that behind every date stand people whose work often unfolded far from home.
By March twenty seventh, seventeen ninety four, the new United States had won its independence but owned almost no serious blue water warships, even as its merchants sailed through dangerous seas. Attacks by Barbary corsairs in the Mediterranean and harassment from European powers made clear that protests on paper could not protect American commerce. On that date, Congress passed the Naval Act, authorizing the construction of six powerful frigates designed to outrun larger warships and outgun smaller ones. These frigates would grow into famous names, symbols of a professional service charged with defending trade routes and national honor far from home. The act did more than pay for timber and cannon, because it signaled a decision to keep a permanent naval arm rather than rely on temporary crisis fleets. In the War of eighteen twelve and in later conflicts, the United States Navy would prove its worth on distant oceans, drawing a clear line back to this early commitment to build and maintain seagoing strength.
On March twenty ninth, eighteen forty seven, General Winfield Scott’s expeditionary force completed one of the earliest large scale amphibious campaigns in United States history against the Mexican port city of Veracruz. After landing near the coast under the protection of navy guns, his troops and the supporting fleet carried out a carefully planned bombardment that pounded the city’s defenses. Under that steady fire, the garrison and the civilians inside suffered, and the fortifications began to crumble. The surrender of Veracruz that day gave Scott a secure deep water port on the Gulf coast and a base from which American forces could move inland toward Mexico City. From that foothold, they would march along the National Road and fight a string of complex battles that foreshadowed later campaigns where logistics and joint planning mattered as much as courage. The siege also showed the human cost of such warfare, as soldiers and civilians alike endured bombardment, disease, and dislocation before the flags changed over the walls.
On March twenty fifth, eighteen sixty three, in the midst of the American Civil War, the Union government took a formal step in how it recognized battlefield courage. At the War Department in Washington, the first Medals of Honor were presented to a group of Union soldiers known as Andrews’ Raiders. The year before, these volunteers had slipped into Confederate territory in civilian clothes, seized a locomotive in Georgia, and tried to tear up rail lines that fed Confederate supply routes. Many of them were captured, some were executed as spies, and others endured harsh imprisonment that tested their resolve. Awarding the Medal of Honor to these men sent a clear message that daring service and sacrifice would not be forgotten, even when a mission did not fully achieve its aims. Over time the standards for the decoration tightened, and it became the nation’s highest award for valor in combat, but its roots lay in moments like this one, when a young country was learning how to honor extraordinary courage.
Two years later to the day, on March twenty fifth, eighteen sixty five, the war around Petersburg reached one of its last desperate turns. Confederate forces were stretched thin, short on food, and facing a larger Union army that had kept them under siege for months. In a final effort to break that siege, General Robert E. Lee approved a pre dawn assault on Fort Stedman, a strong point in the Union lines east of the city. Confederate troops under General John Gordon pushed forward through fog and darkness, at first overrunning trenches, capturing guns, and opening a dangerous gap. Union units reacted quickly, sealing off the penetration and counterattacking to retake the lost works in hard fighting that cost lives on both sides. For the Confederates, those losses were irreplaceable, and the failed assault shortened their lines and left Lee’s army even less able to respond to the broader offensives Grant was about to unleash.
On March thirtieth, eighteen sixty seven, two years after the guns fell silent at Appomattox, American leaders were debating the future shape of their country. Secretary of State William Seward signed a treaty with Russia to purchase Alaska, a vast and sparsely populated territory stretching from the North Pacific into the Arctic. Many critics mocked the deal as “Seward’s Folly,” seeing only ice, distance, and a price tag of seven point two million dollars. Yet control of that long coastline and the sea approaches around it held military implications, even if those implications were not fully appreciated at the time. In the twentieth century, Alaska’s location would prove crucial for defending the North Pacific, hosting forts, airfields, and radar sites during the Second World War and the Cold War. The purchase added a massive buffer and provided a future training and staging ground for United States forces learning to operate in some of the harshest conditions on earth.
On March twenty sixth, nineteen forty three, far from the better known fronts of Europe and the central Pacific, the Aleutian campaign brought war to cold waters near Alaska. An American force of cruisers and destroyers under Rear Admiral Charles McMorris intercepted a Japanese convoy near the Komandorski Islands, northwest of the Aleutian chain. The Japanese escorts included heavier cruisers that outgunned and outarmored the American ships, putting the United States force at a disadvantage in a straight gunnery duel. Over several hours of long range fire, the flagship Salt Lake City was hit hard and damaged, yet the American crews maneuvered skillfully, laid smoke, and launched torpedo attacks to complicate the enemy’s fire. Eventually the Japanese commander chose to break contact and withdraw, and the convoy turned back with him. That decision meant the Japanese garrisons on Attu and Kiska remained cut off, setting the stage for later American landings that would retake those remote islands from a position of naval strength.
By March thirtieth, nineteen seventy two, the war in Vietnam had shifted into what Washington called Vietnamization, as American ground units were drawn down and South Vietnamese forces took on more of the fighting. North Vietnamese leaders saw an opening to test that policy and to change the balance on the ground, so they prepared a large conventional offensive using tanks, artillery, and massed infantry. On that date, they launched what became known as the Easter Offensive, striking across the demilitarized zone, through the Central Highlands, and toward key cities in the south. Many South Vietnamese units were shaken by the scale and firepower of the onslaught, and several defensive lines faltered or collapsed. The United States responded with heavy airpower and renewed naval pressure along the coast, even as its ground troop levels continued to fall. The offensive ultimately failed to topple the Saigon government, but it exposed deep weaknesses in South Vietnamese forces and drew the United States further into an air war just as its soldiers were coming home.
On March twenty ninth, nineteen seventy three, two months after the Paris Peace Accords, a long American ground war reached a formal end point. The last United States Army combat units departed South Vietnam, leaving behind only a small presence tied to the embassy and to defense attaché functions. Many American prisoners of war had already been released and flown home in the weeks leading up to that day, and their return was watched closely by families and by a weary public. The withdrawal marked the end of direct United States ground combat operations in Vietnam, even though fighting between North and South Vietnamese forces would continue for two more years. Over time, March twenty ninth became a touchstone for veterans and communities trying to recognize the service and sacrifices of those who had fought there. In later decades it would be formally recognized as a day to honor Vietnam War veterans, connecting the memory of that departure to ongoing efforts at acknowledgement and healing.
Finally, on March twenty fourth, nineteen ninety nine, the focus of American and allied power turned to the Balkans. Violence and repression in Kosovo, including the expulsion and abuse of ethnic Albanian civilians, had raised alarms across Europe and North America. When diplomacy failed to produce a settlement, the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, or N A T O, launched Operation Allied Force, an air campaign designed to pressure the Yugoslav government into halting its actions and withdrawing forces. United States aircraft and crews made up a large share of this striking power, flying from bases in Europe and from carriers at sea. The campaign leaned heavily on precision guided munitions and careful targeting, although civilian casualties and damage to infrastructure stirred controversy and debate. After weeks of bombing and mounting political and military pressure, Yugoslav units agreed to leave Kosovo and international forces moved in, underscoring how alliance airpower and coalition decision making had become central tools in American and N A T O strategy after the Cold War.