Winston Beauchamp

@WinBeau92

Vice President of Intelligence, Boeing Defense Space & Security. Career National Security Professional: DAF, USAF, ODNI, NGA

Northern Virginia

Joined October 2012

2K Following

1.5K Followers

906 Posts

Winston Beauchamp @WinBeau92

about 2 months ago

@XZ43635255Vz7 @JayinKyiv Here’s the difference- the average monthly salary in Russia was approximately ₽100,316 (about $1,034 USD) in 2025. Meanwhile, the national median income—which represents the midpoint where half the population earns more and half earns less—was approximately ₽73,871 per month.

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Winston Beauchamp @WinBeau92

about 1 year ago

@AFCEADC Congratulations to all the winners! Really competitive group of applicants again this year.

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WinBeau92 retweeted

over 1 year ago

One can support a criminal justice system that is more just, rehabilitative, accountable, and humane and also support extraordinary punishments for those who commit heinous crimes. Not only are those views not mutually exclusive but I think that’s where most people are.

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Winston Beauchamp @WinBeau92

over 2 years ago

@MohSalarb @sentdefender Do you mean the ships traveling in international waters?

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Who to follow

ᗷoneyardDEM Voting matters 🟧

#RESIST. Liberal Progressive. Every election has consequences. Putin's goal is to damage USA. TFG & GOP unwittingly and/or deliberately help with that goal

Odd at Sea 🇺🇸

I’m a half-assed perfectionist. I used to come here for educational fun and genuine interactions. now I just shitpost against the magats #hitmewithmusic

��politics, Bay Area, law, #disability, #feminist, #Latinxs, animalrights, #immigration,#cPTSD, stoptrafficking, due process, #StanfordCardinal RT≠ endorsement

Winston Beauchamp @WinBeau92

over 2 years ago

@ElbridgeColby Bridge, always great to read your analysis. Do you think China’s multiple demographic challenges are starting to impact their industrial production, or is that still in their future?

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Winston Beauchamp @WinBeau92

over 2 years ago

@Angry_Staffer Victory for Us Is to See You Suffer by Philip C. Winslow

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Winston Beauchamp @WinBeau92

over 2 years ago

🙏 🙏 🙏 🙏 🙏

over 2 years ago

Can confirm five U.S. Army Special Operations troops killed in a helicopter refueling accident off the southeastern coast of Cyprus on Saturday morning, according to U.S. officials familiar with the incident. 1/X

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Winston Beauchamp @WinBeau92

almost 3 years ago

@Bri4Change2024 @Angry_Staffer African or European?

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WinBeau92 retweeted

Scoop News Group - @scoopnewsgroup.bsky.social @ScoopNewsGroup

almost 3 years ago

.@WinBeau92 of the @usairforce, Gen. David Goldfein (Ret.) of Google Public Sector's Board, Aaron Weis of @Google, & @mk_palmore from @googlecloud, engage in a panel discussion centered around elevating cybersecurity strategies through the use of AI #GooglePSForum #GoogleforGov

ScoopNewsGroup's tweet photo. .@WinBeau92 of the @usairforce, Gen. David Goldfein (Ret.) of Google Public Sector's Board, Aaron Weis of @Google, & @mk_palmore from @googlecloud, engage in a panel discussion centered around elevating cybersecurity strategies through the use of AI #GooglePSForum #GoogleforGov https://t.co/x4EqGb7pF5

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Winston Beauchamp @WinBeau92

almost 3 years ago

@ScoopNewsGroup @usairforce @Google @mk_palmore @googlecloud Excellent discussion, thanks for the opportunity!

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WinBeau92 retweeted

Jennifer Griffin

almost 3 years ago

The $6 billion was sent to what has been described to me as an even more secure bank account in Qatar where it still sits. To withdraw any of the money the US Treasury still has to validate the bills of lading for the money to be used. The Qataris have oversight over the money.

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Winston Beauchamp @WinBeau92

almost 3 years ago

I’ve had the honor of working with General Brown for the past three years, and we could not have a finer chairman. No one is more prepared to lead us through the challenges to come.

President Biden Archived

@POTUS46Archive

almost 3 years ago

Our military is going to keep growing stronger with General Charles Q. Brown, Jr. as our 21st Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. General Brown is a seasoned warrior with deep combat experience. I look forward to working with him as we take on the challenges ahead.

POTUS46Archive's tweet photo. Our military is going to keep growing stronger with General Charles Q. Brown, Jr. as our 21st Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

General Brown is a seasoned warrior with deep combat experience.

I look forward to working with him as we take on the challenges ahead. https://t.co/IlYO1uWux5

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Winston Beauchamp @WinBeau92

almost 3 years ago

@Gerashchenko_en

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Winston Beauchamp @WinBeau92

about 3 years ago

Great news! And no correlation to the fact that I am currently in Germany

about 3 years ago

🇩🇪The German government decided to deliver a new batch of military aid to Ukraine, which included equipment for the #IRIS-T SLM air defence system, ammunition, six #Gepard air defence systems and other equipment.

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Winston Beauchamp @WinBeau92

about 3 years ago

@usairforce #flyfightwin

@nolanwpeterson

about 3 years ago

A quick story. Near sunset one evening in the summer of 2016, I was on the rooftop of a Kurdish Peshmerga fort in the front-line town of Gwer, just south of Mosul, Iraq. I stood behind a sandbag berm beside Kurdish General Omar Hama Ali Farag, and we watched through binoculars as ISIS fighters scurried between their positions a mile away across a dry riverbed. On the other side of no man’s land — there they were. The foot soldiers of the terrorist army responsible for so much death and destruction. Disciples of the twisted cause that had brutally killed the journalist James Foley, who was my friend. Small in stature with a trimmed salt-and-pepper mustache, Farag wore a black-and-white turban and the traditional Kurdish sal u sepik uniform. The general paced back and forth among his men with his hands clasped behind his back. At times he had a fatherly air. In other moments, Farag’s eyes narrowed and his face transformed into a remorseless expression I have only seen among soldiers at war. Then jet noise snarled overhead. I looked up and saw the arrowhead shape of two F-16s scorching across the clear blue sky. Farag, like many older Peshmerga soldiers, had survived Saddam Hussein’s al-Anfal genocide in the late 1980s. More than 180,000 Kurds died in those attacks — many due to chemical weapons dropped from Saddam’s fighter planes. The sounds of jet engines had thereafter stirred terror among the Kurds who remembered al-Anfal. Years later, however, during the war against ISIS, the growl of American warplanes inspired an altogether different feeling. “That’s the sound of God,” Farag told me. As the U.S. fighter jets roared above, the Kurds pointed to the sky, laughing and smiling. Empowered, a few soldiers fired potshots toward the enemy lines. “Now the sound of the planes makes me happy,” Farag said. “I can’t explain how important the U.S. planes are for us. If we can’t hear the sound of the planes, we can’t stay here and fight.” The sun was low, and the sky was clear. The jets were clearly visible. Then, the thunder of bombs. Puffs of tan dust and smoke rose where the enemy had once been but no longer was. A flock of startled birds took flight. I thought back to my previous profession — when I was a U.S. Air Force special operations pilot in Iraq and Afghanistan. I knew what war looked like from up there. Now, I knew what it looked like from ground level, among those brave fighters who depend on U.S. airpower to survive. “Allahu akhbar,” Farag said. “Allahu akhbar,” I agreed. As the sun dipped below the distant, ancient hills, we stood together, listened to the sound of God, and watched our enemies die.

nolanwpeterson's tweet photo. A quick story.

Near sunset one evening in the summer of 2016, I was on the rooftop of a Kurdish Peshmerga fort in the front-line town of Gwer, just south of Mosul, Iraq. I stood behind a sandbag berm beside Kurdish General Omar Hama Ali Farag, and we watched through binoculars as ISIS fighters scurried between their positions a mile away across a dry riverbed.

On the other side of no man’s land — there they were. The foot soldiers of the terrorist army responsible for so much death and destruction. Disciples of the twisted cause that had brutally killed the journalist James Foley, who was my friend.

Small in stature with a trimmed salt-and-pepper mustache, Farag wore a black-and-white turban and the traditional Kurdish sal u sepik uniform. The general paced back and forth among his men with his hands clasped behind his back. At times he had a fatherly air. In other moments, Farag’s eyes narrowed and his face transformed into a remorseless expression I have only seen among soldiers at war.

Then jet noise snarled overhead. I looked up and saw the arrowhead shape of two F-16s scorching across the clear blue sky.

Farag, like many older Peshmerga soldiers, had survived Saddam Hussein’s al-Anfal genocide in the late 1980s. More than 180,000 Kurds died in those attacks — many due to chemical weapons dropped from Saddam’s fighter planes.

The sounds of jet engines had thereafter stirred terror among the Kurds who remembered al-Anfal. Years later, however, during the war against ISIS, the growl of American warplanes inspired an altogether different feeling.

“That’s the sound of God,” Farag told me.

As the U.S. fighter jets roared above, the Kurds pointed to the sky, laughing and smiling. Empowered, a few soldiers fired potshots toward the enemy lines.

“Now the sound of the planes makes me happy,” Farag said. “I can’t explain how important the U.S. planes are for us. If we can’t hear the sound of the planes, we can’t stay here and fight.”

The sun was low, and the sky was clear. The jets were clearly visible. Then, the thunder of bombs. Puffs of tan dust and smoke rose where the enemy had once been but no longer was.

A flock of startled birds took flight. I thought back to my previous profession — when I was a U.S. Air Force special operations pilot in Iraq and Afghanistan. I knew what war looked like from up there. Now, I knew what it looked like from ground level, among those brave fighters who depend on U.S. airpower to survive.

“Allahu akhbar,” Farag said.

“Allahu akhbar,” I agreed.

As the sun dipped below the distant, ancient hills, we stood together, listened to the sound of God, and watched our enemies die.

nolanwpeterson's tweet photo. A quick story.

Near sunset one evening in the summer of 2016, I was on the rooftop of a Kurdish Peshmerga fort in the front-line town of Gwer, just south of Mosul, Iraq. I stood behind a sandbag berm beside Kurdish General Omar Hama Ali Farag, and we watched through binoculars as ISIS fighters scurried between their positions a mile away across a dry riverbed.

On the other side of no man’s land — there they were. The foot soldiers of the terrorist army responsible for so much death and destruction. Disciples of the twisted cause that had brutally killed the journalist James Foley, who was my friend.

Small in stature with a trimmed salt-and-pepper mustache, Farag wore a black-and-white turban and the traditional Kurdish sal u sepik uniform. The general paced back and forth among his men with his hands clasped behind his back. At times he had a fatherly air. In other moments, Farag’s eyes narrowed and his face transformed into a remorseless expression I have only seen among soldiers at war.

Then jet noise snarled overhead. I looked up and saw the arrowhead shape of two F-16s scorching across the clear blue sky.

Farag, like many older Peshmerga soldiers, had survived Saddam Hussein’s al-Anfal genocide in the late 1980s. More than 180,000 Kurds died in those attacks — many due to chemical weapons dropped from Saddam’s fighter planes.

The sounds of jet engines had thereafter stirred terror among the Kurds who remembered al-Anfal. Years later, however, during the war against ISIS, the growl of American warplanes inspired an altogether different feeling.

“That’s the sound of God,” Farag told me.

As the U.S. fighter jets roared above, the Kurds pointed to the sky, laughing and smiling. Empowered, a few soldiers fired potshots toward the enemy lines.

“Now the sound of the planes makes me happy,” Farag said. “I can’t explain how important the U.S. planes are for us. If we can’t hear the sound of the planes, we can’t stay here and fight.”

The sun was low, and the sky was clear. The jets were clearly visible. Then, the thunder of bombs. Puffs of tan dust and smoke rose where the enemy had once been but no longer was.

A flock of startled birds took flight. I thought back to my previous profession — when I was a U.S. Air Force special operations pilot in Iraq and Afghanistan. I knew what war looked like from up there. Now, I knew what it looked like from ground level, among those brave fighters who depend on U.S. airpower to survive.

“Allahu akhbar,” Farag said.

“Allahu akhbar,” I agreed.

As the sun dipped below the distant, ancient hills, we stood together, listened to the sound of God, and watched our enemies die.

nolanwpeterson's tweet photo. A quick story.

Near sunset one evening in the summer of 2016, I was on the rooftop of a Kurdish Peshmerga fort in the front-line town of Gwer, just south of Mosul, Iraq. I stood behind a sandbag berm beside Kurdish General Omar Hama Ali Farag, and we watched through binoculars as ISIS fighters scurried between their positions a mile away across a dry riverbed.

On the other side of no man’s land — there they were. The foot soldiers of the terrorist army responsible for so much death and destruction. Disciples of the twisted cause that had brutally killed the journalist James Foley, who was my friend.

Small in stature with a trimmed salt-and-pepper mustache, Farag wore a black-and-white turban and the traditional Kurdish sal u sepik uniform. The general paced back and forth among his men with his hands clasped behind his back. At times he had a fatherly air. In other moments, Farag’s eyes narrowed and his face transformed into a remorseless expression I have only seen among soldiers at war.

Then jet noise snarled overhead. I looked up and saw the arrowhead shape of two F-16s scorching across the clear blue sky.

Farag, like many older Peshmerga soldiers, had survived Saddam Hussein’s al-Anfal genocide in the late 1980s. More than 180,000 Kurds died in those attacks — many due to chemical weapons dropped from Saddam’s fighter planes.

The sounds of jet engines had thereafter stirred terror among the Kurds who remembered al-Anfal. Years later, however, during the war against ISIS, the growl of American warplanes inspired an altogether different feeling.

“That’s the sound of God,” Farag told me.

As the U.S. fighter jets roared above, the Kurds pointed to the sky, laughing and smiling. Empowered, a few soldiers fired potshots toward the enemy lines.

“Now the sound of the planes makes me happy,” Farag said. “I can’t explain how important the U.S. planes are for us. If we can’t hear the sound of the planes, we can’t stay here and fight.”

The sun was low, and the sky was clear. The jets were clearly visible. Then, the thunder of bombs. Puffs of tan dust and smoke rose where the enemy had once been but no longer was.

A flock of startled birds took flight. I thought back to my previous profession — when I was a U.S. Air Force special operations pilot in Iraq and Afghanistan. I knew what war looked like from up there. Now, I knew what it looked like from ground level, among those brave fighters who depend on U.S. airpower to survive.

“Allahu akhbar,” Farag said.

“Allahu akhbar,” I agreed.

As the sun dipped below the distant, ancient hills, we stood together, listened to the sound of God, and watched our enemies die.

nolanwpeterson's tweet photo. A quick story.

Near sunset one evening in the summer of 2016, I was on the rooftop of a Kurdish Peshmerga fort in the front-line town of Gwer, just south of Mosul, Iraq. I stood behind a sandbag berm beside Kurdish General Omar Hama Ali Farag, and we watched through binoculars as ISIS fighters scurried between their positions a mile away across a dry riverbed.

On the other side of no man’s land — there they were. The foot soldiers of the terrorist army responsible for so much death and destruction. Disciples of the twisted cause that had brutally killed the journalist James Foley, who was my friend.

Small in stature with a trimmed salt-and-pepper mustache, Farag wore a black-and-white turban and the traditional Kurdish sal u sepik uniform. The general paced back and forth among his men with his hands clasped behind his back. At times he had a fatherly air. In other moments, Farag’s eyes narrowed and his face transformed into a remorseless expression I have only seen among soldiers at war.

Then jet noise snarled overhead. I looked up and saw the arrowhead shape of two F-16s scorching across the clear blue sky.

Farag, like many older Peshmerga soldiers, had survived Saddam Hussein’s al-Anfal genocide in the late 1980s. More than 180,000 Kurds died in those attacks — many due to chemical weapons dropped from Saddam’s fighter planes.

The sounds of jet engines had thereafter stirred terror among the Kurds who remembered al-Anfal. Years later, however, during the war against ISIS, the growl of American warplanes inspired an altogether different feeling.

“That’s the sound of God,” Farag told me.

As the U.S. fighter jets roared above, the Kurds pointed to the sky, laughing and smiling. Empowered, a few soldiers fired potshots toward the enemy lines.

“Now the sound of the planes makes me happy,” Farag said. “I can’t explain how important the U.S. planes are for us. If we can’t hear the sound of the planes, we can’t stay here and fight.”

The sun was low, and the sky was clear. The jets were clearly visible. Then, the thunder of bombs. Puffs of tan dust and smoke rose where the enemy had once been but no longer was.

A flock of startled birds took flight. I thought back to my previous profession — when I was a U.S. Air Force special operations pilot in Iraq and Afghanistan. I knew what war looked like from up there. Now, I knew what it looked like from ground level, among those brave fighters who depend on U.S. airpower to survive.

“Allahu akhbar,” Farag said.

“Allahu akhbar,” I agreed.

As the sun dipped below the distant, ancient hills, we stood together, listened to the sound of God, and watched our enemies die.

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Winston Beauchamp @WinBeau92

about 3 years ago

@inventor_kevin @usairforce Nice to meet you too! Department of the Air Force #innovation moves on!

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Winston Beauchamp @WinBeau92

about 3 years ago

@Travelingcoolie @Angry_Staffer Um, no

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Winston Beauchamp @WinBeau92

about 3 years ago

Wait, so I’m not a flat earther but NASA funds the production and distributions of globes around the world as propaganda?

Ron Filipkowski

@RonFilipkowski

about 3 years ago

Fmr. GA Gov candidate and current GOP official Kandiss Taylor is upset about the Blaire Erskine skit making fun of her as a flat-earther. She explains her actual position, which has something to do with globes being NASA propaganda. I think.

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WinBeau92 retweeted

GBI Impact @gbiimpact

over 3 years ago

Excited to hear from Winston Beauchamp about "Building your Business Case for Digital Modernization" in the CIO Room! #ImpactFlagship #keynote

gbiimpact's tweet photo. Excited to hear from Winston Beauchamp about "Building your Business Case for Digital Modernization" in the CIO Room! #ImpactFlagship #keynote https://t.co/jyt1DujbJy

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Winston Beauchamp @WinBeau92

over 3 years ago

@gbiimpact Thanks for the insightful questions and discussion!

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