Generation Kill (2008): Season 1, Episode 3 - Screwby - full transcript

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.

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!

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,

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.

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.