Trombley sleepy, Evan sleeping, Brad dozing. Nate runs up and shakes him awake gently, to tell him the stupid news: "Get your team ready, we're assaulting the airfield. Less than 10 mikes." Brad wakes Trombley up and tells Walt to range the Mark-19 as far out as he can handle. Ray's like, "And the recon mission that is the entire point of Alpha today?" Oh no, they fucked that up and Godfather is pissing his panties about it. Ray's like, "Then good morning." Brad: "They fucked it. We're going up against tanks." Marines run around like an anthill; Ray tells Trombley to go number one because he's not stopping once they start driving; Lilley films some dude shitting ("Naked Marine, the Internet loves you!") and Espera hustles him into the truck, noting how gay Lilley just got for no reason, and we're Oscar Mike.
Patterson is horrified to learn that Godfather's gotten the ROE changed -- again -- and basically made the entire airfield region a free-fire zone. He refuses to pass the word along, and everybody drives. A-10s zoom overhead, but Ray can't talk to them. "Goddamn Air Force," Brad says, "They shoot Marines." Ray worries about getting to the bolt cutters in time, if there's a fence, and asks Evan if he can shift fast enough to get them out from under his seat; Brad knows you have to get out of the truck to get them, but Evan persists in mumbling to himself and trying anyway, bumping his ass against the back of Brad's head about eleven humiliating (and scary, the dude's holding a giant gun) times; Walt's gun starts jamming again, and he's jerking and pulling at it with his entire body, like violently, and Brad's like, "Unfuck it now or get on your fucking SAW." Not convenient, this timing.
Trombley seems something. Men running, 200 meters gone, his ten. "Are they armed?" Brad asks. "They're something," Trombley says, begging that's vague enough to get him cleared. The ROE says go, so go. Brad clears him, and Trombley takes some camels out, hooting and cheering himself on, horny and strong and terribly young.