Trump Launches Relentless Retaliation After ISIS Kills U.S. Troops in Syria

Paul Riverbank, 1/1/2026After ISIS kills U.S. troops, relentless American retaliation exposes risks and enduring instability in Syria.

Since then, the tempo hasn’t slowed. In the midst of tangled alliances, American and partner teams cranked out a string of raids—11 in the span of just a few days, by the Pentagon’s count. Nearly 25 ISIS-linked militants killed or captured, along with several more weapons caches out of commission. Still, nobody—least of all those walking the streets of Palmyra or maintaining Kurdish-run prisons—mistakes this for an endpoint.

ISIS has had to adapt, shifting from flag-waving convoys to shadowy hit-and-run attacks. Their presence isn’t measured in square miles held; it’s felt in the anxious glances exchanged at checkpoint stops, in the persistent rumor mills swirling through marketplaces. The group has learned to thrive in chaos, feeding off the fractious borders of a Syria whose maps confuse even seasoned diplomats. “You never really know who’s in charge just west of here,” one local journalist remarked recently, half-joking, a cigarette burning down between his fingers.

Admiral Brad Cooper of Central Command put it bluntly: “We will not relent.” It’s a sentiment echoed in Washington and, cautiously, in the offices of Syria's transitional leader Ahmed al-Sharaa. The regime change brought hope but also complications; fighters from old alliances linger, some morphing into mercenaries or vanishing across porous borders. The prisons—makeshift, chronically underfunded—groan under the weight of thousands, and every so often, there’s a tremor of fear that one pressure point too many will trigger another mass breakout.

ISIS knows these cracks. Recruiters trek dusty backroads, their words more powerful than any battered rifle, especially among the displaced and restless. It’s not grand speeches—just quiet offers, sometimes little more than a sympathetic ear in neighborhoods where hope has thinned. The recent suicide blast in Aleppo, an officer killed in the checkpoint chaos, underscores the point: it takes just one man with the wrong resolve to drag a city back toward panic.

Even with all the technology and firepower at their disposal, officials are wary. One intelligence officer, speaking off the record during a recent visit, put it: “You squash a cell, two more try to fill the silence.” Turkish police have felt the sting in border raids, as recently as last month, and Israeli analysts watching from afar report worrying patterns—small groups testing the limits, always probing, never fully retreating.

President Trump’s response to the Palmyra deaths was characteristically emphatic, promising swift retribution but clarifying that ISIS, not Syrian state actors, were at fault. “Three great patriots terminated by bad people and not the Syrian government—it was ISIS,” he said. The distinction matters in the tangled politics of coalition warfare; every action echoes, sometimes unpredictably, among rival militias and suspicious allies.

The fight, for now, is measured in sorties flown and doors breached in the night. But anyone who’s watched the region long enough—reporters, aid workers, generals—knows the risk isn’t some spike to ride out. It’s ambient, woven into daily life. Bill Roggio, a veteran observer of jihadist movements, may have said it best: “These are signals, not spikes. ISIS adapts, and the instability here gives them plenty of oxygen.”

So the U.S. presses on, hoping one day the patched-together Syrian government can take ownership of its own soil. For now, American boots remain on the ground—roughly a thousand strong—alongside uncertain partners. The question hangs in every strategy room, every daily briefing: How long before today’s gains slip back into ambiguity? Airstrikes and raids frustrate the enemy, but absent stability, the cycle risks repeating. For Syrians living beneath the shifting shadow of war, it’s not the headlines they remember—it’s the sense of waiting, forever, for what comes next.

Out in the patchwork terrain of central Syria, the dust hasn’t quite settled. Less than a week ago, a deadly ambush on U.S. soldiers—two Iowa Guardsmen and their interpreter among the fallen—rattled a region that’s already on edge. Within days, the U.S. military, backed by Jordanian assets, struck back with force. Reports say more than 70 ISIS-connected outposts and hideaways were hit—munitions stores reduced to rubble, makeshift bunkers leveled. It’s a number that might look clinical on paper, but the reality is never so neat.Since then, the tempo hasn’t slowed. In the midst of tangled alliances, American and partner teams cranked out a string of raids—11 in the span of just a few days, by the Pentagon’s count. Nearly 25 ISIS-linked militants killed or captured, along with several more weapons caches out of commission. Still, nobody—least of all those walking the streets of Palmyra or maintaining Kurdish-run prisons—mistakes this for an endpoint.ISIS has had to adapt, shifting from flag-waving convoys to shadowy hit-and-run attacks. Their presence isn’t measured in square miles held; it’s felt in the anxious glances exchanged at checkpoint stops, in the persistent rumor mills swirling through marketplaces. The group has learned to thrive in chaos, feeding off the fractious borders of a Syria whose maps confuse even seasoned diplomats. “You never really know who’s in charge just west of here,” one local journalist remarked recently, half-joking, a cigarette burning down between his fingers.Admiral Brad Cooper of Central Command put it bluntly: “We will not relent.” It’s a sentiment echoed in Washington and, cautiously, in the offices of Syria's transitional leader Ahmed al-Sharaa. The regime change brought hope but also complications; fighters from old alliances linger, some morphing into mercenaries or vanishing across porous borders. The prisons—makeshift, chronically underfunded—groan under the weight of thousands, and every so often, there’s a tremor of fear that one pressure point too many will trigger another mass breakout.ISIS knows these cracks. Recruiters trek dusty backroads, their words more powerful than any battered rifle, especially among the displaced and restless. It’s not grand speeches—just quiet offers, sometimes little more than a sympathetic ear in neighborhoods where hope has thinned. The recent suicide blast in Aleppo, an officer killed in the checkpoint chaos, underscores the point: it takes just one man with the wrong resolve to drag a city back toward panic.Even with all the technology and firepower at their disposal, officials are wary. One intelligence officer, speaking off the record during a recent visit, put it: “You squash a cell, two more try to fill the silence.” Turkish police have felt the sting in border raids, as recently as last month, and Israeli analysts watching from afar report worrying patterns—small groups testing the limits, always probing, never fully retreating.President Trump’s response to the Palmyra deaths was characteristically emphatic, promising swift retribution but clarifying that ISIS, not Syrian state actors, were at fault. “Three great patriots terminated by bad people and not the Syrian government—it was ISIS,” he said. The distinction matters in the tangled politics of coalition warfare; every action echoes, sometimes unpredictably, among rival militias and suspicious allies.The fight, for now, is measured in sorties flown and doors breached in the night. But anyone who’s watched the region long enough—reporters, aid workers, generals—knows the risk isn’t some spike to ride out. It’s ambient, woven into daily life. Bill Roggio, a veteran observer of jihadist movements, may have said it best: “These are signals, not spikes. ISIS adapts, and the instability here gives them plenty of oxygen.”So the U.S. presses on, hoping one day the patched-together Syrian government can take ownership of its own soil. For now, American boots remain on the ground—roughly a thousand strong—alongside uncertain partners. The question hangs in every strategy room, every daily briefing: How long before today’s gains slip back into ambiguity? Airstrikes and raids frustrate the enemy, but absent stability, the cycle risks repeating. For Syrians living beneath the shifting shadow of war, it’s not the headlines they remember—it’s the sense of waiting, forever, for what comes next.