Oops, We Texted the Press: U.S. Officials Accidentally Leak Airstrike Plans to a Journalist
Unbelievable Blunder: Top U.S. officials mistakenly added The Atlantic’s editor-in-chief, Jeffrey Goldberg, to a private chat discussing a military strike on Houthi targets in Yemen.
National Security Fallout: The breach, conducted over an unapproved app, has sparked outrage, legal concerns, and calls for resignations as the Trump administration scrambles to downplay the mess.
On March 13, 2025, senior Trump administration officials inadvertently looped Jeffrey Goldberg, editor-in-chief of The Atlantic, into their plans to bomb Houthi militants in Yemen.
The fiasco began in a Signal group chat dubbed "Houthi PC small group," initiated by National Security Adviser Mike Waltz. The roster was a who’s-who of Trump’s inner circle: Vice President JD Vance, Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth, Secretary of State Marco Rubio, CIA Director John Ratcliffe, and Director of National Intelligence Tulsi Gabbard, among others—18 heavy hitters in total. For two hours, they hashed out specifics: targets, weapons, timing, attack sequences. Meanwhile, Goldberg, a seasoned reporter, watched it all unfold, an uninvited guest with a front-row seat to a military operation set to launch on March 15.
How did this happen? No one’s quite sure. Waltz, who started the chat, later took “full responsibility” but offered no clear explanation for how Goldberg’s number ended up in the mix. Was it a typo? A misclick? The administration isn’t saying, and the White House National Security Council only confirmed they’re “investigating” how an “inadvertent number” slipped in. What’s certain is that Goldberg didn’t just sit on the scoop—he published it in The Atlantic on March 24, revealing a security breach that’s left Washington reeling.
The use of Signal, a popular encrypted messaging app, only deepens the scandal. While it’s a favorite for privacy buffs, it’s not greenlit by the U.S. government for classified or operational discussions. National security experts are livid, arguing that official channels exist for a reason—to safeguard secrets and preserve records under the Presidential Records Act. Instead, Trump’s team opted for a platform better suited to casual chats than war plans, exposing a reckless streak in an administration barely two months old.
When the story broke, the administration’s response was a masterclass in deflection. President Trump called it a “glitch,” shrugging off questions with characteristic bravado. Hegseth insisted no “war plans” were shared, claiming the details weren’t classified—a line Ratcliffe and Gabbard doubled down on during a tense Senate Intelligence Committee hearing on March 25. But senators like Angus King weren’t buying it: how could targets and timing not be sensitive? Waltz, meanwhile, stayed mum on the juicy details, leaving the public to wonder just how deep the hole goes.
The strikes themselves went ahead as planned, hitting Iran-backed Houthi rebels on March 15. The Houthi-run Yemeni health ministry claims 53 died, though independent confirmation is pending. Success or not, the mission’s now overshadowed by the leak—and the fallout is brutal. Congressional Democrats, including Senator Chris Coons and Representative Hakeem Jeffries, are crying foul, labeling it a national security disaster and demanding accountability. Some want heads to roll; others are pushing for probes into whether laws were broken.
Goldberg, for his part, defends going public. He withheld some details—like a CIA officer’s identity—at the agency’s request, but argued the administration’s attempts to downplay the breach made disclosure a public service. Critics, though, see a journalist exploiting a fluke, turning a mistake into a megaphone.
As the dust settles, the incident lays bare a troubling truth: sloppy communication can undo even the best-laid plans. The Trump team might have scored a tactical win in Yemen, but back home, they’re fighting a PR war they didn’t see coming—all because someone hit “send” to the wrong guy.