Subtitle : www.sub-way.fr
Oscar Charlie, how copy?
Hitman.
Yeah, Misfit Two One, Two Two is ready for you, Nine One.
All Hitman Two Victors, maintain speed, maintain dispersion 50 meters.
Roger that... Copy that.
- See anything, Garza? - Something at one o'clock.
- Four T-55s at one o'clock, two kliks. - Hitman, this is Hitman Two One.
Enemy contact, four T-55s,
- one o'clock, two kliks, how copy? - Contact right!
Enemy foot-mobiles, four o'clock, 300 m, by the berm.
This is Hitman Two One. Roger that.
Misfit Two One, cleared hot.
Missile away.
Get some!
Watch your sectors.
Misfit Two Two, cleared hot.
Missile away.
- Is there any contact on the left? - Contact right.
R.P.G. team,
two o'clock... 500 meters behind the truck.
Shit. We'll get some later.
This is Hitman two. We have suppressed a zil six by six.
Request that Misfit pushes north to sweep flank
to search for possible targets.
- Misfit Two One, copy. - We barbecued them hajis.
Bravo Two One, man down!
- Echo Four Lima is down. - Lilley's hit! He's hit!
He's stopping. Two One Alpha, interrogative.
Push, push...
- Get out of the kill zone. - Grab the wheel!
Two Three, make the hole for Two One Bravo.
Stop the vehicles!
Corpsman!
- I'm on it! - Got a man hit!
Two One Bravo's got a man hit! Come on!
Don't waste the morphine, doc. My boy's been smoked.
Is anybody else hit?
How's it feel, motherfucker?
How's it feel to be fucking dead?
Bro, it feels sad.
I feel very alone.
And also,
I gotta take a shit.
- I told you... - Damn, man, and I had dibs
- on your video camera. - I had dibs on your wife.
- You make a nice casualty. Congrats. - Yeah, you die real good.
Team leaders, let's do a little after-action on this.
Hell, yeah!
This was the first time the boys got to live-fire any mark-19s or .50s.
Might be the only chance we get before we step off.
Be nice if it were otherwise.
It'd be nice if we got some batteries for our pec-fours and pec-thirteens.
Our ops chief assures me they're coming. I'm assured of this.
I've never seen a fifty cal fuck up a truck before. That was cool.
What if it hits a person?
At least you got to fire yours.
She didn't even shoot off round one.
Trombley, if you keep talking to your weapon like it's trim,
everybody's gonna know you're a total psycho.
We were good until Espera's team went down.
You slowed your vehicles. You don't stop in a kill zone.
You mean maneuver past the vehicles down and leave them?
You know the S.O.P: assault through the ambush,
anybody's left behind, you maneuver to do support by fire.
None of us are good to anybody if we're dead.
Sir, not to question the S.O.P,
but if we have a disabled vehicle
the nearest element could stop and evaluate the Marines
while other elements push through and provide support by fire.
Yeah, that works, Brad,
but only if you don't let emotions take over as you assess the situation.
But on principle it works.
It's good.
All right, got half an hour to get back to Mathilda for chow.
Fucking Kuwait, man.
You believe this shit?
These people still haven't picked up the trash from the last war.
People been fighting over this bitch since ancient times, Dawg.
How many graves we standing on?
Think about all the wisdom and science
and money and civilization it took to build these machines,
and the courage of all the men who came here,
and the love of their wives and children that was in their hearts.
And all that hate, Dawg,
all the hate it took to blow these motherfuckers away.
It's destiny, Dawg.
White man's gotta rule the world.
Hitman Two Two, this is Two One Bravo.
Our gunner has a silhouette at our nine o'clock, two kliks out.
Roger, we glassed it. It's a disabled vehicle.
It's static. Over.
You know, people forget the brain is the biggest erogenous zone.
- Maybe on you. - Man, fuck you.
Take a look at that!
Hey, man.
You seen Person?
Over there, Brah.
- Shitbird, you watch it. - Got a couple new ones...
And this one little Chinese girl had eyes so slanty,
you could've blindfolded her with dental floss, I swear...
You gotta get tight on a motherfucker's windpipe...
Get off me.
Right as she's pulling the vibrating egg out,
she fuckin' licks my asshole.
Ray, did you get the word, man?
- J. Lo's dead. - Bullshit!
Yeah, I got the word from a Captain in G2.
- Did you hear about J. Lo? - Get over here, Ray.
Need my R.T.O.
- Did Conway tell you that? - Yeah.
- Yeah, he's full of shit. - No, man.
Bravo Two!
All of you, listen up.
H&S company had a negligent discharge today.
Fuckin' supply company...
So the C.O. wants to make sure we brass-check our weapons.
- Anybody hurt? - No, it was a two-oh-three.
- It's a miracle no one was killed. - That would suck, homes,
getting killed before you got to go to war and kill people.
And try wrapping up the chess tourney before lights out.
- Got the Sergeant Major on my ass. - Fuckin' Sixta.
Lieutenant,
- have you gotten any word? - I only get what's passed down to me
from Godfather and the only word he gets is from the BBC.
If we're lucky, Saddam will let the inspectors in and we can go home.
The important thing is, we are doing our jobs by being here.
All of you should be proud.
Sir, that's not the word I was asking about.
We wanted to know if you knew anything about J. Lo being killed.
- Who killed her? - Shit, you know she's my cousin.
She's Puerto Rican. You're Mexican.
Ray, the Battalion Commander offered no sit-rep as to J. Lo's status.
- Piece of shit. - Puerto Ricans are tropical Mexicans.
What? J. Lo's dead?
Apparently that's the word.
- Roger that, Sergeant. - Bring your canteen.
It'll be hotter than 2 rabbits fucking in a wool sock
out there in that motor pool.
Since when did the Marine corps start letting in faggots?
Dawg, you're my driver.
How you gonna make your war movie when you'll be driving my Humvee?
Brah...
You think CNN's gonna want to buy your version of the war?
Maybe.
You know, you'd be better off shooting Rudy.
Now that is some shit you could sell right there.
Brah...
Gay porn!
Gay porn, Lilley!
Get Rudy on board, and you gonna be the next Spielberg of twink movies.
You're always doing that shit with that rook.
The same move every fuckin' day.
How's that for a move?
Checkmate, bitch.
Get some!
Let's go! Slay that dragon!
- Get some! - I love you, Fruity Rudy!
Today's high is expected to be 85 Fahrenheit,
nightly lows expected again in the upper 30s
with Shamal winds moving in tomorrow
gusting up to 70 miles per hour.
Sir.
Weather's got a better chance of atritting us than the Iraqis.
Word from the C.G. is to maintain our readiness
and ongoing preparations to enhance our readiness
here in Kuwait.
What does Godfather think?
I think, in other words,
no word.
Our objective remains getting into that A-O,
securing that bridge over the Euphrates,
and holding it for the main Marine Force.
Rolling through Iraq in open-top Humvees
is completely outside of what first recon does.
We might not like it,
but the general has asked this battalion to be America's shock troops.
And Godfather can't tell the general "we don't do windows."
Sir, Alpha company's still missing maps of the A-O.
The problem is battalion-wide and we are working on it, be assured.
What is the policy on the wearing of the beanies?
When should they be worn?
Maintaing a grooming standard is mission critical.
Just because these men fancy themselves an elite unit
doesn't mean they own the rules.
Between 0900 and 1700
watch caps are a no-go.
I don't want us to see no cowboy elvises walking around in them beanies.
All right,
division has handed down change in the signals protocol...
All my hoses are rotted out. I got dirty earl working it.
Got a mess of blown donkey dicks.
On a short string here.
I just got this bucket five days ago. This is like "Gilligan's Island."
They're giving us rocks and conuts to make radios...
Even the gaskets are gone, man.
Back home, they're driving around in Mercedes Benz SUVs
picking up their poodles at the dog cappuccino stand.
And here we are invading a country with ghetto hoopties.
It's depressing.
What the fuck?
Where the fuck you find those?
I had to suck an officer's cock to get these.
See? That's some exploitive shit.
You been exploited by your betters.
You know what we need in America? Is a holiday
where once a year the blue-collar man
gets to go into the home of the white-collar man, eat his food,
sleep in his bed and fuck his shit up.
- Jeff, you realize you're a communist? - Fuck I am.
A blue force tracker.
Downtown Baghdad,
Safwan Hill...
The entire A-O.
You are the Iceman, Dawg.
You up here in the 21st century, we're all back there in the stone age.
Third infantry to the east,
us,
our neighbors to the north,
and the Euphrates bridge,
our objective.
Jesus Christ!
What is you, some kind of goddamn hippy faggot?!
Fuck is this?
Damn it all.
Why the fuck is your shirt out of regulation?
Sergeant Major, is there a problem?
My Marines have been working on that Humvee all morning.
I don't care
if your Marine has a sucking chest wound!
He will not traipse around on the deck with his shirttails hanging out!
Might just N.J.P all your asses!
Yes, Sergeant Major.
Corporal person, be advised,
you'll conduct all business in this camp
in compliance with the grooming standard,
under direct order from the Battalion Commander himself.
Sergeant Patrick,
your mustache hairs is in violations,
growing beyond the corner of your mouth.
I hear Godfather himself say you look like a bum.
Police that mustache!
Yes, sir! And you look like elvises!
Don't push our luck.
Walt!
Trombley.
Nothing but letters.
No batteries, no diapers, and no turret.
Guess not today, homes.
Just another five dozen letters from fuckin' schoolkids and shit.
Listen to this. "Dear Mr. Army men..."
Army? Fuck that.
"... I am proud that you are being brave and defending
"our country against the terrorists.
They are bad and I am glad that you are going to catch them and punish them."
Good writer.
"... I am glad that you are so brave and I pray for you."
- What's she look like? - She's actually pretty hot.
- I like them braids. - Let me see, man.
Listen to this shit right here.
"Maybe you'll be able to come home without having to fight."
- Bullshit. - Fuck that.
"Peace is better than war and it would be nice if no one would be hurt."
Hippy communist shit.
- Where is this weak-ass child from? - Vermont!
Frederick Firestone from 2707
Spencer road, Chevy Chase, Maryland.
- Fucking Maryland. - "Dear Frederick!
"Thank you for your nice letter.
"But I am actually a U.S. Marine who was
"born to kill,
"whereas clearly you have mistaken me for some sort of
"wine-sipping communist dick-suck.
"And although peace probably appeals to tree-loving bisexuals
"like you and your parents, I happen to be
"a death-dealing, blood-crazed warrior
"who wakes up every day just hoping
"for the chance to dismember my enemies
"and defile their civilizations.
"Peace sucks a hairy asshole, Freddie.
- "War is the motherfucking answer." - Hell, yeah!
- "But thanks for writing anyway." - "Your pal, Ray."
Man, every motherfucker in this camp is just waiting for packages of dip,
ripped fuel, porn mags, batteries, hash chunks,
a dirty-ass jerk-off letter from Suzie Rottencrotch.
Except for Brad Colbert over here who actually thinks
that his mail-order turret is gonna come in before we step off.
- Sorry, Brad. - But no.
All we get is this happy day fucking horseshit from Miss cuntlips'
fourth-grade class. Can you fucking believe this shit?
Oh, bro.
Damn.
I'd eat a mile of her shit just to see where it came from.
Take her diaper off.
Pass the word. Watch caps are a no-go between 0900 and 1700.
That's Godfather talking.
Brah.
What?
- You got sauce on you. - Oh, yeah?
I look like a mud? I look like Gabe's filthy spic brother?
- What the fuck is on your grape? - My boonie. Give me it back.
You see any other Recon Marine in here wearing a soft cover?
No fucking way, Dawg.
I know you didn't go through B.R.C, but, boy, you gotta front.
All these other grunts look up to recon like we are cold-blooded warriors.
We're carnivorous motherfuckers, and you gotta carry it like that.
Here.
I got your six, boy.
This motherfucker.
F.N.G., Sergeant.
Cocky motherfuckers.
The American Department of State has ordered all non-essential...
Check it. The escort V.H.F. Watson gave us was in E.O.R. and it's U.H.F.
Both the D.A.S.C. and the D.A.S.C.-A, right?
- President Bush... - Hold on. I want to hear this.
... and Spanish Prime Minister, Jos� Maria Aznar...
I'd chili-dog that bitch.
- Nice. - You think that's enough?
You should be rockin' it like me, Pappy.
- Hitler 'stache is reg. - Looked good on Hitler.
In sport...
- No dead fly girl. - The media's in on it.
They don't want us to know J. Lo's dead.
They think it will fuck with morale.
On the C.E.O.I. they have the escorts listed as no encryption,
but they're covered, right?
You can't do one frequency plain.
Don't matter on the 113s anyway. They only go to six.
What the hell was that?
- Not again. - I need Marines with sledgehammers!
- Let's go. - Come on, you heard him!
Pull it! Come on!
You,
get over there!
- Come on! - Hold it down!
Shame about your tent, sir. Put these with my gear.
Yes sir.
Pappy.
I gotta be at battalion for a while,
so make sure nothing happens when I'm there.
This is a writer who's gonna embed with us.
- He's from Rolling Stone, so be gentle. - The Rolling Stones?
Rolling Stone?
Fuck if they don't give us a dope-smoking, peace-freak writer.
Christeson,
show Rolling Stone Magazine where to stow his shit.
You gonna write about how we're all baby killers and ma rapers?
You gonna tell all them people who read Rolling Stone
how it fucking feels to be in a war?
Actually, most avid readers of Rolling Stone
only really know what it feels like to have a cock up their assholes.
Could be worse. I used to write for Hustler.
- You wrote for Hustler? - We're in the presence of greatness.
What did you write for Hustler"?
Porn reviews, hot letters,
- beaver hunt. - You wrote beaver hunt?
- This way, reporter sir. - This guy wrote beaver hunt!
He must have those polaroids of your mom.
I'm sorry.
Your rack, sir.
They got you in the fucking ghetto.
Reporter, ever seen a grown man naked? You feel me?
Fuckin' spics and a goddamn jig.
Yo, that ain't cool, man,
fuckin' race-hating motherfucker.
Spics, a coon, and a fucking wigger.
See, wiggers be the worst...
Race traitors, miscegenatin' with the muds.
You don't have to listen to this little trailer-trash-whiskey-tango fuck.
Ain't all your crackhead brothers nappy-headed and shit?
James is the only white boy in the family.
Three stepdads, and they're all black.
Take this down, Dawg.
"It makes my heart heavy
"to see the white race sink as low as James's mother has.
"At least if she was Mexican she'd be ashamed of herself.
"But being a white bitch,
"she still thinks she's better than the brothers she sells that ass to
"in the parking lot of the titty bar she works at."
- Screwby, Dawg. - Yo, fuck you, man.
She's a bookkeeper.
Cockkeeper.
Yo, T!
You hear that? The beaners are cracking on your people too.
Ain't you gonna say something?
I'm just not into that racial thing, man.
All right.
Let's go, Garza.
Let's talk about what we're gonna do when we get out of the corps.
We're gonna join us a border patrol and shoot us some wetbacks.
Shoot wetbacks!
Welcome aboard.
Fuck these turrets! Shit won't go past my five.
Relax, my manimal. Pappy will get you fixed up.
- Rudy, hand me your leatherman. - Roger.
Mr. Potato head at your six, closing fast.
Sergeant Patrick!
Hold it there!
You mocking me?
Hairs hanging from your face
beyond your mouth areas.
You are unsightly, unsanitary,
and in violations of Godfather's written standards.
Do you read me, Sergeant Patrick?
You has until o dark hundred to unfuck yourself.
Godfather tells us two weeks ago
that division's having a mustache-growing contest.
Now Mr. Potato head here is lifing-out Pappy.
We all got jobs to do.
Sergeant Major Sixta's job is to be an asshole,
and he excels at the position.
It's titanium. 16 lbs, about yeah big.
Should have been shipped weeks ago,
and I was starting to wonder if it was shortstopped at battalion somewhere.
A shield?
For the main gunner, yeah.
Sergeant Colbert.
It's important.
Gentlemen.
The stove underneath Rudy's espresso pot went off like a forty mike-mike.
Flamed white boy's face like a rotisserie chicken.
Let me understand this...
My R.T.O. has just been burned
in his tent by an exploding portable stove.
And without my R.T.O., I will be going to war
unable to quickly and effectively establish radio communications
within our unit,
with other elements of the battalion, and with close air support.
Is this what is happening?
That and they're probably gonna N.J.P. all our asses for operating a stove
in the tent against the regs.
Over an espresso maker?
This platoon is going down
over an espresso maker?
... until division informs me otherwise.
All right, that's all for now.
Keep it tight, gentlemen. We're on a short string.
Lieutenant Fick.
Yes sir?
Your C.O. passed on your report.
Your unit sustained a casualty. A marine was burned.
Corporal person sustained minor injuries
when a cookstove being operated according to regulations
suffered a catastrophic failure.
And the men operating this cookstove
were outside the tent when this happened?
Yes sir.
At the time, corporal person was kneeling by the entrance,
servicing a 148.
- And you witnessed this? - Yes sir.
I observed the stove malfunction,
and the swift action of my Marines to treat corporal person.
Lieutenant Fick,
you might want to consider writing up some of these men for commendation.
I will consider that, sir.
Why is the PX at an army camp?
Marines don't need a PX. We're about to loot and pillage a country!
Then why are we going to the PX?
AAA batteries.
Dip... skoal and Copenhagen,
baby wipes,
various flavored Pringles in a can,
and adult diapers,
as requested.
Why do you need me to get you all this stuff?
In the infinite wisdom
of whoever runs the military post-exchange stores,
they won't sell this stuff in quantity to actual military personnel.
For civilians like yourself, the sky's the limit.
- And why is that? - To keep us angry.
If Marines could get what they need when they need it,
we would be happy, and we wouldn't be ready to kill people all the time.
See, the marine corps is like America's little pit bull.
They beat us, mistreat us,
and once in a while let us out to attack somebody.
What's the big deal with the batteries?
They're for our pec-twos and N.V.Gs,
our night vision.
Battalion didn't bring enough batteries. We had to ration them.
Battalion didn't bring enough of anything that matters.
They don't have enough fuckin' maps.
The army goes to war, they bring it all.
But Marines...
We make do.
No maps, no batteries.
We keep trying to get this shit mailed to us but nothing ever comes.
Fuck if Colbert didn't try and have a shield for the turret Fedexed,
not that it'll get here in time.
Titanium, 16 lbs.
I had it custom engineered.
When the Marines invade a foreign country,
we gotta buy all our own shit.
Me and Brad spent $500 of our own money just fixing up the Humvee...
Bought our own antennas, filters, cammie nets.
We even painted it ourselves.
So yeah, homes,
we pimpin'.
Why do you guys need the diapers?
Hitman two three, this is Hitman. Radio check, over.
Brad, we have major activity on the wire.
2-0 unidentified victors at the checkpoint.
Fuck, they're coming through the gates!
Un-fucking-believable.
The shit is on.
Has to be.
- Pepperoni, motherfucker! - This fucking rocks!
Some beer would go great with this!
Here, I'll trade you one.
- Fuck yeah! - $10 a pie?
- No sir, I'm selling $10 per slice. - The fuck you say?
With kindness, sir, you go to Kuwait City and get it yourself then.
- Fucking ridiculous! - You have $20?
Can you believe they're like 10 bucks a slice?
- I need a 20! - You haji motherfucker!
Choke, motherfucker!
I'm three for 20. I'm hornier than a motherfucker!
Just when I thought I'd stopped loving the marine corps they go and do this.
This is it, Dawg.
The corps doesn't just bring pizza pies from Kuwait City for no reason.
We got lobster in Afghanistan.
Captain, sir?
Did you guys get some pizza?
You can have my extra slice.
The other companies have bumped into high gear.
They're stowing their gear, packing the Humvees. What's up?
What do you mean?
Sir, is there a reason we got pizza delivered today?
Godfather issued maps for your team leaders,
the whole A-O to the Euphrates.
I was gonna bring it up at our briefing tomorrow.
Godfather says General Mattis issued the warning order.
So be prepared to move to the staging area within the next 48 hours.
Nice of him to fucking mention it.
Get some!
Let's roll!
- Shit, Dawg! - I feel like it's fuckin' Christmas!
It's urgent, Brad. We're fuckin' almost Oscar Mike.
Ray,
can I have just one final moment
enjoying the fruits of civilization?
We are breaking open the M.O.P. suits.
They are rated to maintain their effectiveness against chemical
and biological attack for 30 days.
Now make sure they fit now.
There will be no chance to exchange them later.
Do not wash, abrade, or puncture your M.O.P. suit.
- We expect to fight dirty. - Been fighting dirty my whole life.
If we are fighting in a chemical environment and we get shot,
how are they gonna cas-evac us?
- They're not. - What?
You're hit in a chemical environment, you're fucked anyway.
Woodland camouflage?
Anyone happen to remember we're invading a fucking desert country?
- Fuckin' retards. - Exactly. What the fuck, man?
Can't fight in this shit.
I hate these fuckin' things.
How come the reporter gets desert?
- I didn't ask for... - Are you wearing shorts?
What? Boxers, screwby.
Yo, it's gonna be hot, man.
Me?
Shit, I'm freeballing it all the way to Baghdad.
- Good thing I shaved my balls. - Your President
is watching!
America
is watching!
But more important,
Godfather
is watching.
Make no mistake,
there will be no
fuckups!
Marines
around this world would gives
their left
nuts
to be
where you are!
- Anybody not want to go? - No, Sergeant Major!
Marines,
kill on three!
One!
Two!
- Three! - Kill!
Batal-lion,
atten...
tion!
Dismissed!
Get some!
Hitman three,
can you have your R.T.O. head over here to Hitman? Over.
Anybody need any water?
Sergeant, are we there yet?
Hitman, this is Hitman three. He's en route.
What the fuck is taking so long?
We've been sitting here for four goddamn hours.
- Don't spit on my Humvee, Ray. - I didn't.
Ray,
you spit with your lips, you always get it on the side of my Humvee.
I heard you spit with your lips.
Spit with your teeth.
All Hitman victors, still waiting.
Be advised we're still waiting for the battalion translator.
Do you mean you guys are invading Iraq with just one translator?
No, shit.
What is it?
Dude man, this majorly sucks!
Sir, we can not delay any longer.
I can't believe I'm leaving without my shit, man.
It's primo chronic.
- It's the best in the gulf! - That's regrettable, Sir.
- Bullshit! - Let's go, mount up!
- Interpreter is stowed. - We are Oscar Mike!
We are Oscar Mike to the border staging area.
Two two's up!
War scribe,
want some dip?
First couple of times I dipped, I puked a little bit.
But as long as you don't get it. In Brad's Humvee,
we won't mind.
- All Hitman Victors... - It's good, isn't it?
... maintain 50 meter dispersion at 2-5 kph, over.
Roger that.
All Hitman Two Victors, we are Oscar Mike.
Maintain 50 meter dispersion at 45 kph.
Check it out, Dawg.
White man won't be denied.
... cruise missiles fired by US Ships
and guided bombs dropped by stealth planes
struck targets in downtown Baghdad
in what American officials describe
as an attempt to decapitate the Iraqi leadership
before the war begins.
Meanwhile, a quarter of a million American and British-led troops
are said to be massed on the Iraq-Kuwait border
amid claims that many Iraqi soldiers
are ready to defect.
In the States, the US Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld
has denied reports that negotiations are taking place for a cease fire.
He said the only topic for discussion with Saddam Hussein
- was unconditional surrender... - We kicked the hornet's nest.
Now we better kill all the fucking hornets.
You're being called upon to kill.
We're gonna be invading a country full of civilians.
But at the same time,
we don't know if the people shooting at us are gonna be in uniform
or looking like farmers.
If we shoot civilians,
we're gonna turn the populace against us and lose this war.
But I don't want to lose marines because we are not aggressive.
The R.O.E. will boil down to this:
if in your mind you fire to protect yourself or your team
- it's the right thing. - Hell yeah!
Get that?
I don't want to shoot no fuckin' farmer.
- I'd shoot one. - Sir,
you got any word from the rest of the world?
Is the U.N. going in with us,
or are we on our own?
It's the usual french talk of stall and surrender.
Gas gas gas!
- Move move! - Gas gas!
- Gas gas gas! - Move move move!
Get to the vehicles!
Let's go, let's take cover! Let's go!
Move move move!
Put a move on it! We gotta go!
Get to the vehicles!
What do you got, Sergeant?
Can you help me with the...
All clear!
I just performed testicle surgery on the reporter!
I forgot to spit out my tobacco so I had to swallow it.
And this suit is too small.
That strap was crushing my nuts.
Reporter, you are possibly the biggest fuckup I have encountered.
Well maybe he fits right in.
You know it doesn't make you gay if you think Rudy's hot.
We all think he's hot.
Jesus, you're beautiful.
Actually I'm going to hell out here.
Back home,
all I eat is sushi and vegetables.
The nutrition here is garbage.
You know, I think sheree and I are going to move to san francisco.
There's no fat people there.
That was a no-shit scud attack, Gents.
Awesome!
I just lived through a scud attack.
Rudy, why would you give a fuck if there's fat people where you live?
Brother, I want to live where people care about themselves.
Jesus christ, Rudy.
When are you gonna realize that you're fucking gay?
When we're on libo, you wear banana republic daisy duke shorts
now you're rolling into battle
in your goddamn chicken suit and J-Lo glasses.
You dress like a pimp queen.
I don't dress like no goddamn pimp queen.
I wear clothes that are body-conscious.
Gas gas gas!
Move move move!
- Good job, reporter. - I got it!
Air and Arty are now hitting Safwan Hill.
There are two Iraqi divisions on the other side of the breach.
From the sound of it, they are not having a good day.
We are going to demonstrate to the Iraqis that we have not come
to harm innocent people or threaten their way of life.
But if you bump into an Iraqi who wants to fight, you will fucking kick his ass.
Battle streamers for this battalion
will be earned on your shoulders,
on your shoulders.
Now, gentlemen,
all mustaches grown for the divisional contest
are all to be shaved
by the time we reach the Euphrates.
This battalion will maintain a grooming standard.
That's all, gentlemen.
We're getting ready to invade a country and this is what our leader offers us.
Mustaches.
I trust you, Brad, to keep your personal feelings to yourself.
Check it out.
I taped my windows
so I can turn my laptop on without the enemy seeing the light.
Cool?
How do you feel on the edge of this historical invasion?
Find those batteries yet for my night vision gear, Gunny?
That was a goddamn sucker punch.
Supply situation isn't on any of us.
With all due respect, Gunny, last I checked, your billet
was ops chief in charge of procuring supplies necessary for combat readiness.
Yeah, and I inherited that mess
from some pog who fucked it all up before I even got near it.
- You get word on the escort? - A week.
Gave me a week to unfuck this shit.
Captain?
Are we getting tanks or cobras?
What's up with the escort?
We got word a couple of hours ago.
We're not getting escort tanks or cobras going over the border.
Any reason you waited till now to tell me about this?
We've lost our armor escort. And we get no ass going over the L.O.D.
- That's a low priority to pass on? - Personal feelings, sir.
They're sending us alone against Iraqi armor.
People are gonna die because of this!
See you on the other side, Bro.
Godspeed!
- God-fucking-speed to you! - Fucking Captain America.
- A little belt-fed today, isn't he? - We're all excited.
They kill hundreds, those pilots.
I would liked to have flown the plane that dropped the bomb on Japan.
A couple of dudes killed hundreds of thousands.
That fucking rules.
All Hitman Victors,
be advised we are five kliks out from breach point 2. Over.
Man, I wish I had some 'shrooms.
This is the fucking shit!
Yeah, it's the shiznit.
Watch the fucking road.
How come we're not there yet?
Maybe 'cause a certain severely retarded company commander by the name
of Encino man who, in his infinite retardation,
duct-taped his humvee windows.
Thought he was being all tactical and shit,
until Bravo missed the turn at the checkpoint 'cause retard couldn't see
out his fuckin' truck.
There's layers of retardation that most people don't even know about.
- You should quote me on that. - Two One, continue behind raptor.
We'll be veering west to the 98 ***.
Roger that. We still have *** point 2.
Look at this shit. How come we can't ever invade a cool country...
like chicks in bikinis, you know?
How come countries like that don't ever need Marines?
I'll tell you why.
It's lack of pussy that fucks countries up.
Lack of pussy is the root fucking cause of all global instability.
If more hajis were getting quality pussy,
there'd be no reason for us to come over here and fuck them up like this.
'cause a nut-busted haji is a happy haji.
How much ripped fuel have you ingested?
I'm on it like a motherfucker, Brad.
I'm moto, dude!
No more of that shit.
When you do ripped fuel, you can't shut up.
All Hitman Victors,
be advised you are three kliks south of breach point 2.
Interesting theory though.
Yeah, you should quote me on it.
You know what? You should definitely quote me on it.
This whole fucking thing, it comes down to pussy.
If you took the republican guard
and comped their asses in vegas for a weekend,
no fucking war.
So the war's not about oil or W.M.Ds?
No. In the opinion of this Marine it's about pussy.
- And it's not about Saddam? - Saddam's just part of the problem.
If Saddam invested more
in the pussy infrastructure of iraq than he did on his fucking gayass army,
than this country would be no more fucked up than, say, Mexico.
Please shut up.
Thank you.
All hitman two victors, we are one klik until breach 2.
Wake up, Trombley.
You're missing the invasion.
Yo, Christopher,
get some of this on videotape for me, Brah.
This is us invading a country right here.
Oh, shit!
Welcome to Iraq, bitches!
All Hitman Two Victors, we take this turn,
we're screening west with no adjacent support.
Roger that. This is it. We got no escort.
It's just our thin-skinned Humvees going against tanks.
Jesus, Captain America's a fucking retard.
They need to keep that asshole off company-wide comms.
Two One Alpha, this is Two One Bravo.
We have a possible rocket tube at our two o'clock, 500 meters,
that shiny thing. Over.
Put your mark-19 at two o'clock, range at 500.
I see a glinting, Sergeant.
I can't tell if it's a pipe or a tank tube.
I glassed it. It's a pipe.
Two One Bravo, this is Two One Alpha.
We see a pipe in a trash pile. Over.
This is Two One Bravo.
Roger that. Out.
Tell you who the biggest fucking retard is:
that Saddam Hussein.
We already kicked his ass once, and what does this retard go and fucking do?
He spends the next 10 years pissing us off even more.
We don't want to be in this shithole.
Stop scribbling.
It encourages him.
Stay frosty, Gents.
What do you got?
I just waved at an Iraqi and he waved back.
That was cool.
Good, Garza. Be magnanimous.
What the fuck does that mean?
Lofty and kinglike.
Buddy, it's 10:00 in the morning.
Don't you think you oughta change out of your pajamas?
- Afternoon, sir. - Beautiful day to get a war on.
- I'll trade your pop-tarts. - I got combos.
I'll take 'em.
- Sucker. - Sir, is our mission still that bridge?
All right, gents, listen up.
We are here.
Our orders, that we are to bust north until the battalion tells us to stop.
The bridge we're supposed to be seizing in six hours is here.
We've gone beyond the A-O.
Is battalion asking us to execute our mission on the same timetable?
- I have no word on that, brad. - Anyone want a charms?
What, are you an idiot?
Never ever let charms into this vehicle again.
Nobody lets charms in the vehicle in the whole fucking
United States Marine corps. It's bad luck.
- Semper simple motherfucker. - Fuckin' new guy!
We've been static way too long, sitting here with our asses hanging out.
We don't stand a chance against one T-72 tank.
They got 70 of them out here. This is suicide!
Sir, the behavior of your fellow officer,
commander of our sister platoon, is starting to concern us.
Captain America's unprofessional.
If you have a nickname for an Officer, I don't want to know it.
Is everyone on your teams getting some shut-eye?
Since they brought us pizza at Mathilda, my whole team hasn't slept.
- That's, what, 30 hours now? - We don't know what's coming.
You gotta rotate guys, get 'em some sleep.
When my band opened up for Limp Bizkit in Kansas City, we fuckin' sucked.
But then again, so did they.
The only difference is that they became famous and I became a marine.
Hey, there's kids holding hands.
Cute.
Don't shoot 'em, Garza.
- We got hardball ahead, Sergeant. - That's M.S.R. Tampa.
When we've crossed it, we'll be the northernmost unit in Iraq.
Hitman Two, this is Two One.
Do you want my victor to provide overwatch
on the northeast corner of the M.S.R?
Roger that.
This is Hitman Two. All Hitman Victors align off Two One.
I got two pickups bearing down on us fast.
Sir, I observe men with A.K.S. They're in the lead vehicle.
Hitman, this is Hitman Two. We have two victors with armed Iraqis approaching.
How copy?
Hitman, solid copy.
Hitman, I am seeing armed Iraqis
in civilian clothes in white pickups marked with red diamonds.
We should smoke 'em, sir!
Hitman Two, this is Hitman. Interrogative.
Can you...
- Can you wave them off? Over. - Hitman, this is Two.
These are armed Iraqis in marked Victors with weapons pointed at us. Over.
R.O.E. States uniformed soldiers only,
and they should be firing at us.
This is Two. I'm requesting to at least snatch one victor,
find out who these guys are. Over.
Negative. Wave 'em off.
Hitman out.
- This sucks! - What the fuck?
I had a beautiful head shot.
We all did, brother.
Are you kidding me?
- What the fuck was that? - Our first contact with armed Iraqis
and we wave at 'em like bitches.
You know what happens when you get out of the Marine Corps?
You get your brains back.
... India of course chasing
that massive Australian total of 359,
already one wicket down with just an overcome at...
Company Commanders are here, sir.
Drop your pots, gentlemen.
I don't know if it's me or these new liners, but something
in my kevlar fuckin' stinks.
We're 14 hours since crossing the L.O.D.
We've moved 70 Kliks north.
We, gentlemen,
are the northernmost unit in Iraq.
Our job now is to screen the northern flank of one M.E.F.
You got any WO on our mission, sir? We still doing the bridge assault?
No word.
But judging by where they've placed us,
higher-ups have deemed that mission irrelevant.
Even so,
what's foremost in godfather's mind...
we're still very much in the game, gentlemen,
very much in the game.
Okay, that's all for now.
Colonel Ferrando,
if I can ask, why does your...
voice sound that way?
Throat cancer.
You a smoker?
Just lucky, I guess.
Why the fuck are you throwing food around?
I'm gonna shoot me a dog.
No you're not, Trombley.
No one's shooting any dogs in Iraq.
I got seven.
You got seven?
Yes, Sergeant, I see seven.
You seeing all these Iraqis?
We've encountered over 60.
See how they're walking all jacked-up,
sore-footed?
At the rate this is going,
this whole goddamn war will be over without us firing a goddamn shot.
- Shut up. - Sit down.
Guy's clean.
Mister, mister, my... my water... drink.
Please, mister.
Brad.
Prison rules, Dawg, just like L.A.
They are just civilians fleeing Basra.
They are grateful to be liberated by the Americans.
What manner of belt does this gentleman appear to have donned?
Military issue, Dawg.
Sir, this is Republican Guard.
Sergeant,
somebody down the line already gave these guys M.R.E.S.
It's good!
Shut up! Sit down!
Shut the fuck up!
This is the shit psy-ops dropped on Iraqi Forces,
promising safe passage to who surrender to Americans.
He says 30 km east of here on a bridge by the canal,
there are Iraqi military death squads
that are executing Iraqi soldiers who flee.
The death squad dudes are in white SUVs
with red diamonds on them. They are Fedayeen.
They are loyal to Saddam.
These guys can't walk.
Three Two actual, this is Three Two.
Be advised, Alpha got hit by arty. Over.
Did you copy?
Alpha had artillery hits near their position.
Get someone on the com. We need at least 347 tons up here.
Shoot that dog, Corporal!
Sir,
we should save our rounds for the enemy.
Shoot that fucking dog!
Darnold,
give it a piece of your jerky.
Stike, give me some water from the Humvee.
Turn around.
No, I don't want your fucking cigarette.
That the same hand he uses to wipe his ass?
I ain't touching no filthy Haji gum that's been touched
by those filthy brown Haji fingers.
Brah, these are people.
Good?
Oh yeah, very good.
I'd stick my cock through that veil hole
and fuck the shit out of your wife's face any day.
Oh, my God.
Check it out!
They got their own Fruity Rudy.
We captured a fucking gay Iraqi!
Yo, hold that turd-pusher up.
For shizzle, a gayass haji.
Danger close, 12:00. It's godfather.
Meesh, take him over there. Sergeant.
Alpha took three artillery hits.
Somebody has an idea we're here.
We've got four hours of daylight to make it to our next position.
We're not gonna deal with these surrenders.
That's from division.
Send them all back the way they came.
Roger that, sir.
We have orders, Nate.
Are they fuckin' serious?
Send them back where?
What, the fucking death squads?
Sir, under articles 13 and 20 of the Geneva convention,
we're obligated to take care of
and protect any fuckers who surrender to us.
Division has ordered us to unsurrender these Iraqis.
Write this as you see it.
I'm not here to stop you.
The Iraqis' first contact with Americans.
We fuck 'em.
Bravo Two, listen up!
Get ready to push!
- Let's go, gents! - Mount up, boys!
- Mount up! - Let's go!
Forget it!
We're Oscar Mike.
Turn it over, Ray. We're Oscar Mike.