I want a station at 30 mikes, holding at three cherubs southwest,
holding area chevy,
carrying four hellfires.
Misfit Two One, this is Recon Three.
Solid copy on checkin. Stand by for sixline.
Have all the other drivers fill up the fleet together.
Check the air filter on that Humvee.
Ampusel, grab me a donkey dick.
- These damn runflats. - Dirty Earl!
I can fix anything from a screen door to a broken heart.
Trombley, did you eat?
Yes, Sergeant.
- You hydrated? - Yes, Sergeant.
- Have you defecated? - No, Sergeant.
- Fuck! - Trombley, we have a long day ahead of us.
I need you to take a dump now before we get on the road.
- Before you shit, hand me the bolt cutters. - Outstanding job yesterday, gentlemen.
Can I help you with something, Gunny?
Sergeant,
yesterday we had a trial by fire.
I want you to know, Brad, that I'm here for you and your men.
Come on!
Are there any combat stress reactions anyone needs to talk about?
Remember,
I'm the certified combat stress instructor.
Fuck, fuck!
It did it again.
No, we're good, Gunny.
But we would be lot better
if you were getting us the gun lube and batteries we need.
That might do it for my combat stress.
Yeah, mine too!
Dirty Earl, you up for worm dirt?
Why didn't you do it first?
- I don't know, Sarge. - Rudy, you havn'tin't got no goddamn got any common sense.
- I know, brother. - Sgt, the spare caught a bullet too.
- Fuck! - Ready to kill, gunnery sir.
Stay hard, James.
That's where it's hanging up. I get off maybe 10 rounds before it jams.
This shit is totally ineffective in these conditions.
We need L.S.A.
Lieutenant.
Sir, the main weapon on your point vehicle is unreliable.
Given the prevailing climatic conditions, using this lubricant
is like trying to buttfuck a virgin underaged phutak whore with chalk...
when KY is clearly called for, sir.
You'll have to deal with it, Sergeant.
We have four more towns to assault through today.
You want logistics, join the army.
Marines make do.
Marines, I just want you to know,
the company commander feels that it was our team
that scored the touchdown yesterday for Godfather.
Of course Godfather's happy. He's trying to get his full bird on our backs.
At least I got to bust my cherry.
My point is we gotta follow Godfather wherever he leads,
no matter how fucked up it happens to be.
- Sure do. - Stafford,
yesterday we ran the gauntlet with no ass and no air,
and for what?
Fuckin' artillery blew the shit outta that town after we rolled through it.
We're reconnaissance Marines.
Swift, silent and deadly.
And Godfather knows this.
And he knows when he sends us into the shit, like yesterday,
we'll probably come out on top.
'cause we're the best.
But that don't make it right.
Beaver Hunter, why are you even here?
I mean, After yesterday any cognizant person with a speck of common sense
would have caught the first truck south.
Thanks.
Yo, son, you shit on my shitter.
Just wipe it off or something.
Trombley, this shitter's the only luxury I got out here!
Screwby.
Devil dog, your aim sucks.
Pappy, if lance Corporal Trombley's as good with his saw
as he is with his shitter, I think team one has issues.
Is it correct to surmise from your sitrep, sir,
that we're gonna be rolling through these towns with a lot of ass today?
Yes, Captain.
We got kudos directly from General Mattis, I might add,
for punching through yesterday where R.C.T. 1 failed to go.
But now it looks like we're back to being one unit among many.
And unfortunately, when we're rolling with the regimental combat team,
we can get lost in the middle of all that ass.
The only way we're gonna get back into the game
and score like we did yesterday is to find another mission
where we can break off.
And, Captain Patterson,
you can depend on Godfather
to look for any opportunity to get us back into the game.
Count on it.
Now, gentlemen,
keep your powder dry.
I have a present for you.
L.S.A.
Scammed some off the guys in R.C.T. 1.
Sir, not to get homoerotic about this,
but I could kiss ya.
Walt!
Get that mark19 properly lubed.
Now we're talking about killing some motherfuckers.
Matt, hurry up and get off the fucking dirt. We gotta go.
This place gives me the creeps.
Yeah, those guys waving at us
are probably the same ones who tried to kill us yesterday.
Damn, homes.
Hit with R.P.Gs
Yeah, a buddy of mine in one seven
had to fucking clean up a Humvee that got hit like that.
Said he found the driver's fingers in the engine compartment.
How did they know they were the driver's fingers?
'cause they were still gripping the steering wheel, fucknuts.
We oughta shoot some of these dogs.
Trombley, I keep telling you we don't shoot dogs.
We shoot people.
And we Generally only shoot people if we have to.
I'm afraid of dogs.
You're afraid of dogs?
What, Were you bitten in your formative years?
My dad was once.
The dog bit him
and my dad jammed his hand down the dog's throat,
ripped up his fucking stomach.
Where did we find this guy, man?
I like cats.
Remember how the kids would come running out to us in Afghanistan?
- Yeah. - Hitman, this is Hitman Two.
Eyes on the village confirms no enemy presence.
Captain America, brah.
Winning the war one souvenir at a time, right?
Shit,
- get that on video? - Fuck yeah.
Fucking scumbag, man.
That's Bravo Three's commander.
Check it out.
Sergeant!
For the life of me, I could only find a black one.
Have you located any red ones?
No, sir.
If you do, you'll be sure to let me know?
Yes, sir.
P.F.C. Christeson,
how far do you make it from the berm to the edge of that hut?
About 100 meters.
120.
Not bad.
About 225.
- See that beehiveshaped thing? - Yeah.
That's where they cook their bread.
It's always gonna show hot in a thermal.
It's all about the windows and doors, man.
Entrances and exits.
Screwby.
Brad?
Yeah?
I'm, uh...
concerned about Captain America.
Those guys are with R.C.T. 1.
- Move, move, move! - What the fuck?
We don't have comms for that unit.
Fuck, that's women and children.
Cease fire!
- Do not engage. - Hold your fire, hold your fire!
All Hitman Victors, we've been observing this hamlet.
It's only women and children.
Do not engage.
Sir, they're shooting that hamlet in error!
Sir, we don't have any comms with R.C.T. 1
and they're shooting that hamlet in error!
Laser on.
Spot.
Range 71 is at heading 030.
Link them up.
Cleared hot.
71, missile away.
Hitman Two, this is Hitman Two two.
Who cleared that helo hot?
This is Hitman Two. Nothing on our nets. Over.
Interrogative:
does anyone have positive I.D. on enemy personnel there?
Unaware at this time. Over.
Range 71 is off left, addressing south.
Standing by for B.D.A.
They fucking got good effect on target.
Range 71 copies. Good effects, one building destroyed.
Dip?
Yeah, thanks.
Dawg,
we was like, 13 or 14 and we were pedaling around
in this neighborhood I grew up in, just east of L.A.
We saw some cholos from another hood.
And we thought we was all hard gangbanger wannabes.
So we started saying, "Fuck off, yo! "Fuck off,"
throwing and flashing signs to them and stuff.
So they started throwing down on us.
Kicking our little asses.
Then some of the older dawgs from our hood come out,
grab those fools, took one behind the tastee freez...
They stabbed him up with a screwdriver.
Killed the cholo.
See, Generally white people,
they don't drag a dude behind the tastee freez
and stab him to death with a screwdriver.
So after that day I decided.
I'm gonna hang with white people.
Well, here you are.
Chaffin!
Excuse me.
Chaffin...
Did you get a picture of my girlfriend from Leon?
I don't think so.
Straight blonde hair, brown eyes?
She have a big stain on her face?
Haven't seen her.
Poke!
This town Ar Rifa runs right up on the M.S.R.
for two kliks. Must be 75,000 people in it.
Our mission is to haul ass past it.
After that,
what's next, sir?
Haul ass through the next one,
hope the Iraqis keep their heads down.
Sir, in that last hamlet,
all it took was one shot.
That was just an undisciplined grunt from R.C.T. One.
Everybody opened up and schwacked it over nothing.
We could only keep our own on it clean, dawg.
What these other motherfuckers do in this big wide A-O ain't on us.
Yeah, it's hard enough just keeping our own guys out of the shit.
We can't be worrying about the rest of the world.
I know you all saw our own C.O.
try to fire off a 203 round in the middle of all that.
- Fucking Encino man. - But he missed though.
- Badly. - Look, Brad, can't live in the past.
You need to snap to.
We got a lot of shit ahead of us.
Roger that, sir.
Mount up!
All Hitman Two Victors, quick hold to Herringbone. Break.
Hitman Three has fallen behind.
Hitman Two, Two One Bravo set.
Two Two, set.
How'd that line go?
Q - Tip!
What?
Looks like Two men in black pajamas,
creeping along at our nine o'clock.
- 200 meters. - Are they armed?
I think so.
Should I light them up?
Yo, Gunny!
Christeson's got two foot-mobiles, maybe with weapons.
200 meters to our 9 o'clock.
If they got weapons, light them the fuck up.
Hitman Two Three, this is Two One.
Interrogative: what are we engaging?
Hitman Two One, this is Two Three...
You're shooting too high.
- There you go. - Bravo Three is ready to push.
We're Oscar Mike.
- Let's go, guys. - Bataillon is rolling.
- Maintain suppressive fire. - Let's go, let's go!
Mount up!
Go go go!
Hitman, this is Hitman Two.
Our command Victor's made contact with an R.P.G. team.
We have engaged them. How copy?
Let's go! We're Oscar Mike!
Mount up!
Go go!
You know what?
We were just fighting actual guerrillas.
- Screwby! - Hitman, Hitman, this is Hitman Two.
Do you copy? Over.
Hitman, Hitman, this is Hitman Two.
We've suppressed an R.P.G. team. How copy? Over.
Hitman Actual, this is Assassin Actual.
Be advised we are taking inaccurate fire from the northeast.
Hitman, Hitman, this is Hitman Two. Do you copy? Over.
- Son of a bitch! - Why are they stopping?
Fuck.
Why the fuck did you stop?
Bravo Three got an order from Hitman.
I didn't receive any such order.
Sir, this is contrary to our S.O.P.
We're bunched up in the open,
and that town is definitely hostile.
Hitman, this is Hitman Two. Do you copy?
Damn it, Hitman's not on comms.
Do you have any information, Sergeant? Why aren't we in a defensive position?
All I know is that Hitman ordered my platoon to stop.
This is his goat rodie.
Jesus Christ, Nate! You're alive.
Dave, what the fuck is going on?
You were taken out by an R.P.G. team.
Gunny Wynn's dead.
If you need a ride, Nate,
mi casa es su casa.
We've stopped based on an erroneous report. No One in Bravo Two was hit.
Hell are we doing here?
This is the type of Vietnam shit gets a whole company wiped out.
Sir, I'm worried that there are people in that ville
trying to organize a mass R.P.G. attack against us.
I think my concerns are reasonable.
Sir, dDo you want us to set up a sniper position?
Nate? Nate?
Sir, do you want us to set up a sniper position?
Push security out farther. Let's make the best of this.
- I'm gonna find the Captain. - Punch out 20!
- Leon, Christopher, punch out 20! - Go go go go!
I'm gonna call this one in right now.
Sir, that's a cunt hair over 200 meters, sir.
That's danger-close for artillery.
Danger-close?
Sir,
"danger-close" is an artillery strike
within 600 meters of a friendly position.
That would be us.
200 meters...
That's pretty much on top of our heads.
Dumb motherfucker, sir.
Even the most boot-fucked marine knows danger-close.
- You're way outta line. - Skipper!
What the fuck is going on here? You weren't on your comms!
I'm calling in a fire mission.
Sir, I don't like this. These two get their fucking heads together
it's fucking dangerous!
It's the oldest play in the book...
Officers calling in danger-close fire missions to get medals.
Lieutenant Fick, you need to square these shitbirds away.
You need to N.J.P. that man.
Tell me exactly what you're doing.
I'm calling in a fire mission on a hunter-killer R.P.G. team.
There is no R.P.G. team. I called it in. My men destroyed it.
Lieutenant, it doesn't matter if we're right or wrong.
You and your men can't disobey orders.
An officer who does needs to be relieved of his command!
Sir,
I'm merely trying to pass you accurate information.
There is no hunter-killer R.P.G. team.
What is your order, sir?
I'm calling in a fire mission...
At Papa Quebec
059...
...098,
038 degrees,
200 meters.
Aye, sir.
Steel Rain, Steel Rain, this is Hitman.
Fire mission. Over.
Sir, should we dig in for the fire mission?
- There won't be a fire mission. - Grid Papa Quebec...
Hitman's using the wrong protocols.
What?
Hitman has the grids all designated wrong.
There won't be a fire mission.
There's a switch!
For once our asses get saved by sheer incompetence.
Out.
Hitman, this is Steel Rain.
Reconfirm grid zone designator.
- What do you mean? - Stand by, Hitman.
Break break. Assassin, this is Steel Rain.
Your grid zone designators are OKcorrect.
Message to observer: Papa Uniform 149...
...213 Bravo,
five gun one around. H.E. delay in effect.
Target number Juliet Echo November 1001.
Splash in five seconds.
Five seconds to splashdown!
- Sir, two hits... - Suspected Ba'ath party headquarters.
That's a lot of ordinance we just dropped in the middle of a city.
I'm worried about civilian casualties.
Looks like Alpha hit something with that.
I guess It pays to have the right protocols when you're calling in a fire mission.
- I don't see any muzzle flashes. - Why do we have to see them?
Trombley, shut up.
I got flashes!
Where?
200 meters,
my 11 o'clock.
Second story, white building with the sandbags on the roof.
- Two buildings behind the roadblock. - Yeah, got it.
His head's bobbing.
- We're cleared to engage. - Right on, right on!
Die, fucker, die die!
- Nice! - It worked, it worked!
Damn, sucker,
I just got some.
Look at me, Brad. I'm a man now.
Just like you...
Except I don't look like a faggot and talk all educated.
Watch your sectors.
Most people in America right now probably think of Iraq
as a dangerous country.
Now if I were to stand up,
I might get killed.
But to us,
behind this wheel, it's pretty safe.
So to us,
Iraq is a safe country right here.
I feel pretty safe. Do you feel safe?
- Pretty safe, I guess. - See?
It's all relative.
The natives are getting restless.
Prayer is a good thing.
Maybe it'll keep them too preoccupied to shoot at us.
Sir, the scuttlebutt I'm hearing says you may be relieved of command.
There could be an investigation.
For trying to unfuck Hitman
when he's about to drop arty on his own fucking company?
That's brilliant.
Sir, your leadership is the only thing I have absolute confidence in.
I'm assured that I'll have the right to address any allegations
before anything is formalized.
I'm assured of this.
Sir, to highlight my growing lack of confidence in the strategic plan,
can you explain why we are strong-pointing this hostile city
in tin-plated Humvees while M-1 tanks,
L.A.V.s and Amtracs roll past?
Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?
I mean how exactly did this happen?
You wouldn't believe it if I told you.
Make sure to Conserve your fire. It's gonna be a long night.
There's no plan for this, Pap.
For what?
Strong-pointing a walled town with Humvees.
It all feels so random... What we're doing.
Running here: shooting.
Running there: bombing.
That might be a legit target burning over there,
it might be a school, Pap.
I hope it's legit.
I hope this is good karma.
Everything here is ancient, Pap.
We're in an old old place.
Yep.
White flag.
Could be some Habudabu trickster shit.
Let's go.
Help please.
- Help. - Movin' on!
- Corpsman! - Get the corpsman!
Saddam... Fedayeen shoot.
Not you.
Saddam.
You kill Ba'ath party...
Saddam... very good.
Saddam in our city
shooting at you. Not us.
We help...
come.
- I'll show you. Come. - Okay.
Captain!
Call battalion.
Battalion's on the net.
Godfather wants to see you.
Keep a handle on this till I get back.
In Ar Rifa, this commander taught us something about seizing the initiative.
Earlier today,
when his company came under attack by fedayeen paramilitary forces,
laying in ambush with R.P.Gs,
he chose to stop
and bring the fight to them.
- Captain Patterson, greetings. - Sir.
I need the translator.
We knocked out he Ba'ath headquarters. We've n opportunity...
There's a school of thought that says we shouldn't have stopped,
particularly given the proximity to a hostile city.
But this kind of aggressiveness
is what I mean
by interrupting the enemy's own decision-making cycle.
It's against all doctrine,
but as the General often reminds me, doctrine
is the last refuge of the unimaginative.
The fact is I just got off the nets with chaos,
and the General is impressed with our initiative.
We are on his radar screen.
Gentlemen,
we're coming out from beneath all this ass
and getting back into the game.
And he's given us a tasker.
This is the Qal'at Sukkar airfield.
A British paratroop regiment is staging to hit the field at dawn.
The General has advised me
that they are running late.
And he suggested...
If we're up for it.
That we can get to the field first.
To do this, we have to cross 40 kliks.
Godfather needs an airfield.
Sir?
We've good intelligence from the locals
on the Ba'athist and Republican guard units in this town.
We can exploit...
No time. We're pulling out in he next hour. See to it, gentlemen.
All you find, we find.
...together.
Meesh, seriously, what's this guy trying to tell me?
Eeee, They are glad to be liberated.
Okay, I got that.
But What's he trying to tell me right now?
They want to show us the locations of the Republican guard,
Ba'ath party and fedayeen forces.
Maybe some weapon caches,
- maybe even some chemical weapons. - Okay then,
it looks like we got our work cut out for us.
Tell him his man he's going to come with us.
- Tell him I'm going to take him back... - No, d-do... no.
That's not how we're rolling, eh?
We are pulling out of here soon.
But rest assured,
Godfather has a legit plan to exploit the situation.
We
are going to give these righteous people...
I.R. chem-lights.
They are going to set them up where the bad guys are,
nd mark them for the bombers who re going to bomb the shit
out of whatever's marked.
American Air Force.
The best in the world.
How do we know this guy isn't just going to put it hese chem-lights on the homes
of people he owes money to?
How do we know for sure that he's even on our side, Meesh?
How do we know nything unless we properlydebrief these people and check their intel?
Here.
No thanks, Meesh.
Okay, it's not the good shit, but it's local brewed.
You should write this down, reporter. See, The war's actually not about pussy.
It's about N.A.M.B.L.A. You know: North American Man-Boy Love Association.
See, Places like Thailand where they used to fuck little boys and shit,
they're drying up.
We're opening up Iraq for a whole new supply of kids, man.
Ray, please!
I'm trying to gauge the approach to our target.
Right!
'cause we're gonna drive 40 kliks off-road
in the dark
to an airfield with Republican guard on it by ourselves.
And they say that I did too much acid in high school.
Christ, the business end of Mattis's crack pipe
must be hot to the fucking touch.
- Brad, listen, there's no way... - Get down!
- Why? - Get down!
What?
Hold your fire! Hold your fire!
Holy fuck!
- Give me your headset. - Why are we Iways hating on the mexicans?
Who's up?
Hitman Two, this is Two One.
That is a friendly unit northbound on the M.S.R.
Firing on our position.
I say again, that is blue-on-blue fire.
They're northbound toward Assassin's position.
- How copy? - Those are fucking reservists!
- I saw the markings. - Hitman Two One, this is Hitman Two. Copy.
You all right?
- Yeah, I think so. - I'm fucking wet!
Did you piss on me?
Don't fucking tell me I have reporter piss on me.
Brad, they shot our fucking water cans.
We're Oscar Mike.
Damn it.
40 kliks, no fucking water.
Fuck it, at least you're dry.
All Victors, this is Godfather.
Stand by, H&S has a truck down.
Stop.
Start, stop, start, stop!
Jesus!
I'm beginning to think Godfather's just a big cocktease.
They shot a hole in our fucking tire.
- You guys all right? - That was some bullshit.
- Trigger-happy reservists. - Hey, Iceman.
Can you believe those fucking reservists? They just shot us up.
It was shock trauma.
Bunch of fucking doctors.
Didn't they have to take an oath or some shit against fucking people up?
You need some security while you do this.
- I'll get with the Lt... - Belay that, devil dog!
Godfather's gots a mission,
and that mission is now.
Abandon this vehicle, put your asses on another vehicle.
- Let's get moving. - But,
- Sergeant... - No buts!
These asses ain't in gear 10 minutes ago,
you's in direct disobedience
of a direct order from godfather hisself!
- What are you carrying? - Battalion's chow,
M-16s,
ammo,
400 pounds of C-4,
couple of cases of Claymore mines, all kind of shit like that.
Torklesen,
get your bubbies in a running truck and load up right now.
You hear me?
Two One, this is Hitman Two. Interrogative:
where is the turn? Over.
Hitman Two, this is Two One.
It's coming right up. 100 meters. Over.
Two One, it better be. I can assure you that Godfather's watching.
Dude, I am so lost right now.
Don't worry about it, buddy. I know where we're going.
We passed seven villages. There's one more.
Hey...
Do you remember the gay dog episode of "South park"?
The one where Sparky runs away
'cause he's humping all those other dogs and shit?
Yes, Ray, I...
I do remember it very well.
But I don't see what relevance this has on our present status.
There's the hamlet, our turn.
Hitman Two, this is Two One.
We're making that turn now. Over.
Roger that.
Nice job. Over.
Hey, Brad?
Do your big gay Al for me.
Come on, buddy!
Do it for your old pal Ray, the one who made the right turn.
"Well, hello there, little pup.
"I'm big gay Al.
"Have you been outcast?"
Fuck yeah.
They had this gay bar open up in the town where I'm from in Michigan,
and people trashed it every night.
They had to close it after a month.
See, but there's money in that, Trombley.
Did I tell you I'm gonna open my own gay bar when I get back home?
It's gonna be called the golden stream. And it's gonna be like this
big urinal, right?
And there's gonna be this two-way mirror that everybody pisses against.
That way when you're sitting at the bar having drinks,
there's like all these big fucking giant cocks just pissing right at you.
Corporal, are you a faggot?
You know what? I'm gonna franchise that shit.
You can have Michigan, Trombley.
Very lucrative territory, homosexually speaking.
That's not funny, Corporal Person.
Ray, give it a rest.
Echo Five Charlie,
this is Echo Five Echo.
Interrogative: how much further to the airfield?
Echo Five Echo, I don't copy.
Sergeant?
- What? - I just lost my helmet.
What do you want to do, hold a funeral?
- Sergeant? - We ain't going back for it, Gabe.
Get me General Mattis.
Chaos actual, this is Godfather.
Stand by for traffic. Over.
Roger. Send traffic. Over.
Sir, we got Chaos on the net.
Chaos, this is Godfather.
Teams are out now getting eyes on the field. Break.
We'll have complete sit-rep for you within five mikes. How copy? Over.
- Solid copy. - Roger that. Out.
Chaos is waiting.
Brits are in the air.
But our u-2 surveillance picked up four possible
t-72 tanks on the iraqi field.
If our eyes affirm this intel, Chaos needs to abort the british assault.
They hit the point of no return in under 30 mikes.
So where the fuck are my eyes on that field?
Assassin actual, Godfather needs your sit-rep asap. Over.
Roger that. Stand by.
Assassin Two Three, this is Assassin actual. How copy?
Assassin, this is Assassin Two Three.
We are one klik out. 40 mikes from objective.
I say again, 4-0 mikes. Over.
Roger.
Alpha is 40 mikes away from getting eyes on the field.
These guys have bitched and moaned,
moaned and bitched that I haven't given them a legitimate recon mission.
I finally give them one, and they fucking fail me.
We don't have that option.
We will recon that field.
We will recon it in force.
I want the entire battalion Oscar Mike inside of 10 minutes.
Sir,
that's not a reconnaissance mission.
- That's an assault. - Semantics.
What about the T-72s?
The violence of action is to our advantage.
I'll request that division adjust the R.O.E. accordingly.
Roger that, sir.
Assassin Actual, this is Godfather.
Abort that mission. R.T.B.
Interrogative: you want me to return to base?
Affirmative.
All Hitman Two Gunners be advised.
Alpha has a team reentering friendly lines to the north.
How copy?
Brad?
Get your team ready.
We're assaulting the airfield.
Less than 10 mikes.
Wake up.
Walt, range the Mark-19 as far out
as you feel comfortable engaging targets with good effect.
What about Alpha's recon?
They're out of time.
- I'm up. - They fucked it.
We're going up against tanks.
Grab a diesel. Let's mount up.
It's on race. Two Two's up.
Yo, man, if you have to do number one, go now,
because once I start the car, I am not stopping.
Naked Marine,
- the Internet loves you! - Fuck you, Person.
- Get your ass back in the vehicle. - Where's Lilley?
We're Oscar Mike, man.
Move it.
- You really are gay, aren't you? - Brah I'm not cool.
This is Godfather.
Godfather Actual has declared all Iraqis hostile
in proximity to the objective. How copy? Over.
Affirmative. Copy that.
Godfather just changed the rules of engagement.
He's lowered the bar.
Shit, he's removed the bar.
New R.O.E. has all Iraqis on or near that airfield declared hostile.
A free-fire zone?
I'm not passing that word.
Keep this change in the R.O.E. off our net.
Got any comms with those A-10s?
Negative.
Those jets are goddamn Air Force.
They shoot marines.
You know, That map showed fences.
If there's fences, we'e gonnall need the bolt cutters.
They're under the reporter's seat.
Hey,Can you lift your ass in a hurry if we need to get to those bolt cutters?
I think so.
You have to get out of the Humvee to open it.
- I don't see a fence anyway. - Do you need them now?
Charlie just cleared a guard tower.
- What is it, walt? - Fucking shit!
Mark-19's jammed.
Hitman Two, this is Two One.
Our mark-19 is down.
I say again, our main gun is down.
Shit!
Either unfuck it now or get on your fucking saw.
I'm trying.
I see men running, 200 meters, 10 o'clock.
- Are they Armed? - They're something.
Well, the order is everyone is declared hostile.
Light 'em the fuck up.
Oh, Shooting motherfuckers like it's cool.
Fuck!
All right, gents, keep your heads on a swivel.
Maintain your dispersion.
Everybody stay on a line.
All Hitman Two Victors, maintain dispersion.
Target building 500 meters ahead. Break.
Hitman Three is holding our flank. Over.
Hitman Two, this is Two One.
Have two tanks, northwest side of the warehouse. Over.
This is Hitman Two. Affirmative.
They appear to be stationary. No personnel.
Hitman Two, this is Hitman Two Three.
I have an unmanned Z.P.U.-57 Tac-2.
Appears to be abandoned. Over.
Two Three, this is Two. Copy that.
He's got his fucking bayonet out.
- Doing his Rambo. - Follow my tracers!
He's shooting at scraps of metal.
Can you believe that fucking retard is in charge of people?
Jesus Christ.
Engage those buildings!
Sir, that's more than 3,000 meters away.
Range of my fifty is 1830.
Move into position.
Engage! Engage!
Should I light them up?
No.
We're not engaging.
Those aren't military buildings.
They're civilian huts.
Yeah,
looks like Saddam's big bad republican guard hajis
got wind I was coming.
As the great warrior-poet Ice Cube once said,
"If the day does not require an A.K.,
"it is good. "
They stick around and man those, we'd have been dead
before we even saw them.
- Take a picture of me... - Dude, lighten up.
Then again the world wouldn't have to deal with the prospect of you
returning to your cretinous daughter-fucking trailer-park
red-state shithole, and producing mutant,
whiskey tango, scrotum-faced, bucktoothed, zit-exploding progeny.
Heads up.
I need a channel to division main.
Lance Corporal Trombley, channel five.
Sir.
Chaos, this is godfather.
Send it.
Be advised. We have seized the enemy airfield.
Early reports are
we've captured several enemy tanks
and self-propelled triple-a batteries.
It appears
that we've overrun the entire 255th mechanized regiment who have fled.
And sir,
we've sustained zero casualties.
Outstanding.
Thank you.
Roger that. Out.
- Is that the british paratroopers? - No.
We scrubbed their mission. We got here first.
Gentlemen.
We just seized an airfield.
That was pretty fucking ninja.
Just keep it dry, eh?
I know they're heinous, bro. I'm living in it.
- Holy fuck. - Jesus!
- That feels good. - Smells like dick juice.
When's the last time you took your boot off and gave your paw some air?
- Come on, doc,give it a rest. - You know we can't.
They ordered us to sleep in the damn things.
Got some good news...
We're so far ahead of R.C.T. 1,
we'll be here a good 24 hours before they show up.
However, there is a bit of concern in some quarters about being overrun,
since we don't eally know what's around us out here,
so make sure you maintain 50% watch and the comms are good.
We got pre-register on-call artillery if we want it.
Sir, has any thought been given to destroying the weapons
and ordinance that are sitting over there?
Actually that did come up.
But it seems the battalion's supply of C-4 is now unaccounted for.
The battalion supply truck we left last night,
it is a smoldering heap of twisted metal and failed hopes
in the trustworthiness of the iraqis we are striving so hard to liberate.
What does that mean, sir?
It means we're on one meal a day.
I'm just saying I'm surprised is all, Brad.
- I mean, aren't you surprised? - Shut the fuck up.
I mean, I'm betting
that they were thinking... That they could just, you know,
leave a fully-loaded supply truck laying around.
Just like you could anywhere in american, you know.
I mean, you park your unlocked car
in Detroit or Baltimore, I mean,
your shit's gonna be there guaranteed when you get back
from the day spa with your skin all exfoliated and shit, right?
I meanseriously, homes,
why would our Iraqi brethren
want 400 Ibs
of C-4, claymores and crates of M-16s? I mean, it just doesn't make any sense.
Wait!
/You knowThey could be using all that C-4 for, like,
a giant 4th of july celebration.
What do you think,Brad?
I think it's time for you to shut the fuck up.
Nice job shooting those camels, Trombley.
I think I shot one of those Iraqis too.
I saw him fall.
- All we saw was camels going down. - Camel killer.
Look, I didn't mean to shoot innocent camels, all right?
I'm sure I shot people.
Shouldn't you two be doing the after-action report on Alpha's
failedrecon mission?
What's this about you losing your kevlar?
It bounced off my head, Sergeant Major, last night.
Bounced off your head?
I was up on the fifty cal and the Humvee went over a berm, Sergeant Major.
That kevlar wasn't yours to lose!
That was the property of this united states Marine corps!
It belonged to every Marine!
'cause of your failure to secure that helmet
you've jeopardized every Marine serving today.
I was considering N.J.P.Ing your ass.
Sergeant Colbert!
This is what happens when you don't enforce the grooming standards.
The mens gets all lax
and then other standards fall.
Devil dog here stops using his chinstrap, goes over a bump,
kevlar goes flying off his head,
and our protective posture...
is weakened.
Roger that, Sergeant Major.
I'm not the fucking retard who lost a whole supply truck.
Gimme any target, I'll hit anything out to 700 yards.
What are they dragging?
Think they want something?
One humanitarian ration for two blowjobs.
That's the going rate in this part of the world.
Stiney, give me a hand.
Stop.
Hey, buddy,
can you hear me?
Good.
The kid's been zipped with 556.
Marines shot this kid.
Fucking jackasses.
Trigger-happy motherfucker.
- Doc, is there anything I can do? - Yeah,
Stiney, get me the battalion surgeon.
We need to cas-evac this kid or he's dead.
Done.
Christeson, Stafford, two stretchers to doc, 12 o'clock.
You're a very brave kid.
He's very strong, all right?
- Doc? - Yeah?
He's been hit by 556.
Blew out his calf muscle but there's no arterial bleeding.
- He'll make it. - Roger that.
Why aren't they angry?
They are grateful to be liberated and welcome the Americans as friends.
- These mistakes are unavoidable in war. - Bullshit!
We're fucking recon Marines!
Our whole fucking job is to observe
and not make these kinds of mistakes.
And we don't fucking shoot unarmed kids.
Where did this happen?
Dude, they were tending their camels and shit,
so who knows where it was.
Fuck, man.
Trombley did this.
Sir...
Priority one surgical pediatric, four bullet wounds to the abdomen,
144 tach weak; 30 rest,
90 over palp. He's... stable for now.
Godfather's denied the request to cas-evac the boy.
We need to cas-evac him or he's dead.
I'll go ask the battalion commander again.
Thank you, sir.
Shot by that asshole Trombley, Brad.
He's been zipped by 556 from Trombley's saw.
Don't put this on Trombley.
- I'm responsible. - Yeah?
20 other Marines drove by them and didn't shoot.
Why don't we bring Trombley here to see what he's done?
Don't say that. It was my order.
What can I do here?
Not a fucking thing, apparently, Brad.
There's gotta be something we can do.
Under the rules, we have to provide him with care until he dies.
Yeah.
Well, so...
Put him in my care. I'm billeted next to the battalion commander.
If he's in my care
and godfather has to watch him die, he might change his order.
- Right, let's do this. - It's the only chance we got.
- All right, on three. - Gentle.
Ready, one, two, three.
Ready?
Let's go.
What the hell is going on here?
We brought him here to die.
Get him the fuck out of here.
Stafford.
- Set him down over here. - Sergeant Major.
What the fuck is going on?
Sir.
Bravo Two in rebellion.
Because they thinks they shot an Iraqi child.
Does he want water?
Keep him still.
You're requesting that I send this wounded civilian
to the R.C.T. for aid?
Problem.
Our tactical situation is extremely precarious here.
These are the northern most Marines' positions.
And we are 30 kliks north of them.
We are far behind enemy lines.
We have incomplete intel
as to the disposition of the Iraqi units here,
here and here.
We don't even know
what happened to the 4,000 troops that were at this airfield
six hours ago.
And there's only 350 of us.
What can be done?
Option one:
cas-evac by helicopter.
Doesn't exist.
Army, Marines are engaged.
Taking casualties.
Last night the Iraqis stopped the army advance.
They turned back 36 apache helicopters,
shot a few down.
Option two:
I detach a platoon
and have them drive kliks
through enemy lines to the shock-trauma unit here.
If any of you were a casualty right now.
I don't think I could cas-evac you.
But supposing I could,
I imagine there is some of you think
we have to give wounded civilians
every consideration we would give ourselves.
That is not true.
The R.O.E. say...
we have to give them the same medical care
they would get by local standards.
The standards here are fucking zero.
It's a shitty situation for us,
but nobody put a gun to our heads
and forced us to come here.
We're all volunteers.
Get me Captain Patterson.
Yes, sir.
Assassin Actual, this is Godfather Five.
Godfather Five, this is Assassin Actual. Send traffic.
D.X. on the net. Over.
- Standing by. - I'm dispatching an Alpha platoon
to take this child to the shock-trauma unit.
Huddle up. We're gonna talk.
Ray.
This is Echo Four Charlie.
Assault Two One Bravo's gone.
Echo Three Lima is up on Two One Bravo.
We made a mistake today...
collectively and individually.
We must get past this.
Can't sit around and call it quits now. We have fighting ahead.
Look, guys, we're Americans.
We must make sure when we take a shot that we are threatened.
You gotta see that these people are just like you.
You gotta see past the huts, the camels,
the different clothes they wear.
These are people in this fucking country.
This family here might lose a son.
We shot their camels too. One camel.
Could be a year's income to them.
We're not here to destroy their way of life.
Trombley, you have to be prepared for the possibility
of a formal investigation in this shooting.
You need to write it up.
Keep your head up.
Is it going to be okay, Sergeant?
I mean this...
investigation?
You'll be fine, Trombley.
No, I mean for you, Sergeant,
since you gave the all orders.
I don't care about any of this, you know?
I'll be out in a couple of years.
But you...
Sergeant, this is your career.
I'll be fine.
Hitman Two Three, this is Hitman Two Two.
Watch my six. I'm taking a dump.
Roger that.
I don't want to sound like I'm defending Trombley or anything...
but how come nobody remembers that they declared everybody hostile?
I mean, they told us to shoot at everybody.
Yeah.
But you know what's even more fucked up?
Trombley only shot two bursts maybe seven rounds.
I mean, we're bumping down a dirt road, his targets are like
200 meters out and he hits exactly
what the fuck he's shooting at?
I mean, fuck, man,
the boy is a cold-on deadeye killer.
Yeah, no shit.
That's 'cause he's a psycho.
But at least he's our psycho.
You all right, reporter?
Yeah, I'm just...
sucking wind.
What happened today...
You need to square those walls.
You'll never make any progress digging that way.
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