Hundreds of Army investigators pulled off criminal cases to babysit the Secretary’s luggage, children, and suburban driveways.

When Pete Hegseth stepped into the Pentagon as Donald Trump’s new Defense Secretary earlier this year, many expected fireworks. After all, the former Fox News weekend warrior had spent years railing against “deep state generals” and championing Trump’s populist vision for the military.

What no one expected, however, was that the loudest drama surrounding Hegseth’s tenure wouldn’t come from a foreign battlefield — but from his own security detail.

According to a bombshell Washington Post report, the U.S. Army’s Criminal Investigation Division (CID) — the branch responsible for both law enforcement and protecting Pentagon leaders — has been stretched to the breaking point by Hegseth’s extraordinary protection requirements.

So extraordinary, in fact, that agents are being yanked from active criminal investigations and reassigned to, quite literally, “sit on luggage” or “patrol driveways” outside the Hegseth family’s homes.

One official summed it up bluntly: “I’ve never seen this many security teams for one guy. Nobody has.”

A Security Footprint Bigger Than the Job?

CID normally maintains about 1,500 agents, with roughly 150 dedicated to protecting top officials. But since Hegseth took over, estimates suggest that between 400 and 500 agents — nearly a third of the entire division — are now tied up in guarding him, his wife Jennifer, and their blended family across three states.

That means hundreds fewer agents investigating crimes such as fraud, assault, or even serious misconduct within the armed forces.

“It is literally taking away from our law enforcement mission,” one CID insider vented. “We’re supposed to be solving crimes, not escorting kids to school.”

Why the Overkill?

The heightened security stems partly from real threats. Last year, before taking office, Hegseth’s Tennessee home received a bomb threat. The climate around Trump-world officials remains dangerous: two assassination attempts on Trump during the campaign still loom large, and Iran has repeatedly threatened retaliation after U.S. strikes.

But critics argue the scale of Hegseth’s protective bubble has gone far beyond necessity, morphing into a small army assigned to one man’s domestic life. Even his critics admit his family situation — one child with his current wife, plus six stepchildren — complicates logistics, but many question why CID agents are effectively playing chauffeur and babysitter.

Pentagon Pushback

The Pentagon, unsurprisingly, isn’t amused by the reporting.

Chief spokesman Sean Parnell blasted the Post, accusing it of “doxxing cabinet secretaries” and endangering lives. He defended Hegseth’s security footprint as proportional to the threat landscape: “After two assassination attempts on the president, rising attacks on federal agents, and open threats from hostile nations, criticizing appropriate protection is reckless.”

CID officials also stressed they are balancing priorities and denied that Hegseth personally requested protection for ex-spouses or went beyond their recommended posture.

Still, inside the division, morale is reportedly tanking. Agents grumble about “babysitting” instead of chasing criminals, with some openly questioning whether this is the best use of military law enforcement resources.

A Turbulent Reign at the Pentagon

The security controversy is just the latest chapter in Hegseth’s rocky tenure. In barely eight months, the Pentagon has seen a mass exodus of top brass: the Air Force Chief of Staff, the Chief of Naval Operations, the Commandant of the Coast Guard, and others have all rotated out under his watch.

Hegseth has also struggled to hold onto his own inner circle — aides, spokespeople, and even his chief of staff have walked. Meanwhile, his name has been entangled in “Signalgate,” when Trump ally Mike Waltz accidentally leaked a Pentagon group chat discussing a bombing raid in Yemen… to The Atlantic’s editor-in-chief.

And then there are the cultural flashpoints: renaming the U.S.S. Harvey Milk, amplifying a Christian nationalist pastor who supports stripping women of voting rights — all of which have turned Hegseth into a lightning rod.

Babysitters or Bodyguards?

The image of CID agents reduced to “sitting in the driveway” or “guarding Ben & Jerry’s outings” with the Hegseth clan has struck a nerve, even in a country used to lavish security details for politicians.

To critics, it symbolizes not just waste, but a dangerous diversion of resources. With hundreds of investigators tied up in the suburbs of D.C., Minnesota, and Tennessee, how many serious cases are going cold? How many soldiers’ complaints are left uninvestigated?

For supporters, though, the outrage is little more than political theater — another example of the media targeting Trump allies while ignoring the unprecedented threats they face.

The Bottom Line

Whether justified precaution or security overreach, one thing is clear: Pete Hegseth’s protection has become one of the defining dramas of his tenure as Defense Secretary.

The irony is glaring: a man who built his career railing against “bureaucratic bloat” and “wasteful government overreach” is now presiding over one of the largest personal security operations in Pentagon memory.

The question now: is America’s top defense official truly defending the nation — or just defending himself?