The New Generation of Defense Wizards

Naval Base Coronado, San Diego — A robo-dog was doing donuts with an M240 machine gun on its back, while Jeff Gordon explained a successful NASCAR pit stop operation. Days earlier, in June, a tenpenny sea drone, launched from the West Coast, had moseyed past a Chinese destroyer in the Philippine Sea and a corvette in the Taiwan Strait while taking pictures of these warships as if it was fleet week. The defense industry, long maligned for its bespoke, broke equipment, is, with the Pentagon’s blessing, looking back to the successes of its supersonic Muroc days — when, at what is now Edwards Air Force Base, the military and firms with names such as Bell, Douglas, and Northrop developed the first generations of supersonic fighter jets. The industry is now combining Silicon Valley nerd money with Dukes of Hazzard derring-do, selling defense as the place for those with the “right stuff,” be they veterans, AI developers, or drone operators. Nowhere was this more apparent than at the Anduril 250 NASCAR race, hosted on Naval Base Coronado.

The Daisy Dukes were abundant, the weather certifiably SoCal, and the race wild. The egg-yolk-yellow caution flag meant another crash on one of the most technical (which is to say cattywampus) tracks that NASCAR drivers had ever seen. The liveried stock cars slowed to legibility so that recovery teams could scavenge the erupted bits of plastic and fluids that fell from the pulverized road rockets. Once satisfied that the track was de-mined, officials gave the okay, the drivers accelerated, and their pushrod V-8 engines began again their combustive caterwauling, which echoed from the haze-gray steel of the aircraft carrier USS Carl Vinson and carried into Coronado’s sleepy bungalow-lined streets.

About the Author

Luther Ray Abel

Luther Ray Abel is an Associate Editor for National Review. A veteran of the U.S. Navy, Luther is a proud native of Sheboygan, Wis.

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Naval Base Coronado, San Diego — A robo-dog was doing donuts with an M240 machine gun on its back, while Jeff Gordon explained a successful NASCAR pit stop operation. Days earlier, in June, a tenpenny sea drone, launched from the West Coast, had moseyed past a Chinese destroyer in the Philippine Sea and a corvette in the Taiwan Strait while taking pictures of these warships as if it was fleet week. The defense industry, long maligned for its bespoke, broke equipment, is, with the Pentagon’s blessing, looking back to the successes of its supersonic Muroc days — when, at what is now Edwards Air Force Base, the military and firms with names such as Bell, Douglas, and Northrop developed the first generations of supersonic fighter jets. The industry is now combining Silicon Valley nerd money with Dukes of Hazzard derring-do, selling defense as the place for those with the “right stuff,” be they veterans, AI developers, or drone operators. Nowhere was this more apparent than at the Anduril 250 NASCAR race, hosted on Naval Base Coronado.

The Daisy Dukes were abundant, the weather certifiably SoCal, and the race wild. The egg-yolk-yellow caution flag meant another crash on one of the most technical (which is to say cattywampus) tracks that NASCAR drivers had ever seen. The liveried stock cars slowed to legibility so that recovery teams could scavenge the erupted bits of plastic and fluids that fell from the pulverized road rockets. Once satisfied that the track was de-mined, officials gave the okay, the drivers accelerated, and their pushrod V-8 engines began again their combustive caterwauling, which echoed from the haze-gray steel of the aircraft carrier USS Carl Vinson and carried into Coronado’s sleepy bungalow-lined streets.