Demanding loyalty of the U.S. military, Trump hungers for ‘the kind of generals that Hitler had’
The current American president is not the only leader who has sought loyalty to himself, not his country
A demonstrators in a frog costume attends a ‘No Kings’ march in Portland, Oregon. Photo by Getty Images
Terrence Petty October 26, 2025
During the Third Reich, nearly 18 million Germans entered military service under a vow that bound them not to the state, but to a man:
“I swear by God this sacred oath: that I shall render unconditional obedience to the Führer of the German Reich and people, Adolf Hitler, and that I am prepared, as a brave soldier, to risk my life at any time for this oath.”
Under that oath, German soldiers invaded foreign countries, torched villages, and executed civilians. Refusals were rare. Obedience was blind. The results were bloody.
Eight decades after Nazi Germany’s defeat, American soldiers are being hurtled toward a threshold of their own — whether to follow the orders of their commander in chief Donald Trump when deployed to American cities where they’re not wanted, and where their presence raises constitutional concerns.
This is a loyalty test that may soon play out nationwide, especially if Trump follows through on his perilous proposal of using progressive cities as military “training grounds,” and pursuing leftist activists as if they were terrorists.
Portland, Oregon — already the target of Trump’s wrath — may become the proving ground. A preliminary court victory for Trump’s plan to send National Guard troops, while animal-costumed protestors mock ICE agents and disrupt their operations, has turned Oregon’s largest city — and my hometown -— into a symbolic battleground.
Trump’s hatred for Portland seems to grow more visceral each time he mentions it. For most of the Rose City’s citizens, the feeling is mutual.
Since June, activists have gathered outside the ICE detention center on the west bank of the Willamette River, aiming to block agents from leaving to pursue undocumented immigrants. Their strategy — nonviolent disruption — has been surprisingly effective.
In recent weeks, Portland’s protesters have captured hearts and headlines worldwide, thanks to viral videos showing battle-ready ICE agents standing face-to-face with activists dressed as unicorns, cows, giraffes, and a whole menagerie of creatures. Of all the images to emerge from anti-ICE protests, none is more enduring — or endearing — than that of a giant frog staring down helmeted federal agents.
Trump has called Portland a “hellscape” and a “war zone,” accusing protesters of mounting a “criminal insurrection.” But the videos tell a different story. When ICE agents fire pepper spray, tear gas, rubber bullets and pepper balls, it’s often in response to peaceful resistance.
In late September, Trump ordered the federalization of 200 Oregon National Guard troops for a 60-day deployment to Portland. Oregon and city officials sued, arguing the move violated state sovereignty and lacked legal justification. On Oct. 4, U.S. District Judge Karen Immergut blocked the deployment with a temporary restraining order, writing that Trump’s “war zone” claims were “simply untethered to the facts.” She added: “This is a nation of Constitutional Law, not martial law.”
This past Monday, a three-judge panel of the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals — two of them Trump appointees — voted 2-1 that Trump had the right to send Oregon Guard soldiers to Portland to guard the ICE facility. But Oregon and Portland officials won at least a temporary reprieve Friday, when the Ninth Circuit issued a four-day administrative stay to allow the full court time to consider rehearing arguments.
Meanwhile, Trump is laying the groundwork for a broader crackdown. In August, he signed an executive order directing the Pentagon to establish a National Guard Quick Reaction Force, a domestic military police unit to quell civil disturbances.
Trump lackey Stephen Miller has called Portland’s protesters “street terrorists,” labeled the Democratic Party a “domestic extremist organization,” and claimed that “leftwing terrorism” is growing. His solution: “legitimate state power” to dismantle these supposed terror networks.
How America’s top military brass feel about this chest-thumping remains unclear. Summoned from posts around the globe to the Marine Corps base at Quantico, Virginia, they sat stone-faced last month as Trump laid out his vision for deploying military force “in our inner cities.”
“It’s really a very important mission,” Trump told them. “We should use some of these dangerous cities as training grounds for our military — National Guard, but military. This is going to be a big thing for the people in this room, because it’s the enemy from within, and we have to handle it before it gets out of control.”
In recent weeks, Trump has floated invoking the Insurrection Act: “If the governor can’t do the job, we’ll do the job. It’s all very simple.”
It’s unlikely that military commanders would openly defy Trump’s orders. But there are flickers of resistance. Brigadier General Alan R. Gronewold, head of the Oregon National Guard, told state lawmakers in September it was his “desire” that if his troops were deployed to the ICE facility, their mission would be to protect not just the facility, but also the protesters. In point of fact, however, if Guard troops were deployed under Title 10 — as federal forces — Gronewold would have no operational authority over their duties. They would report to U.S. Northern Command under Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth.
Although rare, there have been other indications of friction between senior military officials and the Trump administration. Lt. Gen. Jeffrey Kruse was fired as director of the Defense Intelligence Agency after a leaked assessment questioned the strategic value of Trump’s June strikes on Iranian nuclear sites. The DIA report concluded that the strikes had set back Iran’s nuclear program by only a few months, contradicting Trump’s claim that the sites had been “obliterated.”
Earlier in the year, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the chief of Naval Operations, and the head of the National Security Agency were dismissed as part of what Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth described as a strategic overhaul of Pentagon leadership. A number of other uniformed leaders have also been removed. Critics have described the moves as a purge of institutional voices who had resisted politicization and prioritized independent analysis over loyalty.
When Trump walked onto the stage at Quantico to address America’s generals and admirals, he seemed puzzled that he wasn’t greeted with cheers and applause.
“I’ve never walked into a room so silent before,” he told his decorated military audience. “You know what? Just have a good time. And if you want to applaud, you applaud.”
“And if you don’t like what I’m saying, you can leave the room. Of course, there goes your rank, there goes your future.”
As Trump militarizes Democratic-led cities and yearns for “the kind of generals that Hitler had,” as he once told his then-chief of staff John Kelly, the stakes could not be clearer. This is not about law and order. It is about loyalty and power. The question is no longer whether Trump will test the military’s obedience — but whether anyone in uniform will have the courage to say no.
