Apart from the incredibly deep and wide Atlantic and Pacific Oceans that serve as very defensible moats, one of the tactical assets of the US's geography is our good relations with our neighbors. The 49th parallel, the primary boundary between the US and Canada, was established as such well after the hostilities of the Revolutionary War and the War of 1812. It's now become the world's longest undefended border. To our south, despite multiple invasions by the US and that 19th-century land grab, we're on remarkably friendly terms with the former Spanish colony of Mexico.
Not all neighbors are as cordial. Case in point - Scotland and England. Wikipedia lists at least 70 skirmishes fought between the two going back to the year 596. As recently as 2014 Scotland had a referendum on independence from the UK and just narrowly missed the most epic "It's not me, it's you" breakup. So even now, things are a little salty between the two.
Alton Brown recounted how an English aristocrat denigrated the Scottish affinity for oats, "Oats?! Pah. We English feed it to our horses while Scotland feeds it to its citizenry." A Scotsman's retort was beautiful. "Aye. That's why ye've got great horses and we've got great people."
The best story I've heard that showcased this simmering low level hostility involved two neighbors - an Englishman and Macgreggor, a Scot. Macgreggor had a laying chicken that happened to lay an egg in the Englishman's yard. As the Englishman went to retrieve it, he was accosted by the Scot, "Watt are ye doin'?! Ye cannae be takin' me egg ye bloody sassenach!"
"Ye're daft, Macgreggor! It was laid on my land and is clearly mine by rights!" It escalated, but before it came to blows, Macgreggor threw down the gauntlet.
"If'en ye're thinkin' to be man enough, we'll settle this the Highland way." Confident in superior breeding, the Englishman agreed without actually hearing the challenge.
Macgreggor then laid out the terms. "We'll be takin' turns kickin' each other in the bawsack. The man who comes to his feet the quickest we'll ken te be the winner. I'll go first." He then dons his heaviest hiking boots, takes a running start, and delivers centuries of pent up Scottish anger squarely on his nemesis's crotch. Predictably, the Englishman man goes down in a heap, with plenty of howling, interspersed with denigrations about Macgreggor's lineage. Keeping a keen eye on a stopwatch, the Englishman is able to stand after 23 minutes.
After a few heaving breaths, he straigtens up with murder in his eyes. "Right. Now my turn!"
Macgregger gives a noncommital shrug, "Och. Dinna fash ye bloody sassenach. Ye kin keep the egg."
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