Doc looks down at Evan: "Hey Beaver Hunt, 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." Evan sighs, blows out his cheeks; it's the opposite of sucking wind. He doesn't know. But it's not like Evan's the only person who should be answering the question.
Everybody uses a munitions box with a hole cut in the top when they want to take a crap. In public. That's awful on many levels simultaneously. So Trombley, having defecated per his Sergeant's orders, hands Q-Tip's back to him with a muttered thanks. "Yo! Yo, son, you shit on my shitter!" Gross? Trombley's like, "Um, wipe it off? We're in the desert and times are tough?" but Q-Tip's not having it. He tosses the thing roughly at Trombley's chest. I'm going to need you boys to just put it down on the ground while you're having this conversation. My God. "Trombley, this shitter's the only luxury I got out here!" (Back to the basics of biology and the mustaches again; you see the same thing in prisoners: whatever you have, that's what the world becomes.) The guys laugh, and Q-Tip looks at them for a second with a quiet "Screwby" before running off.
Trombley is, once again, ashamed and unused to having his bowels controlled by a bunch of yelling people, and takes off. "Devil Dog, your aim sucks!" shouts Pappy, and somebody on his team is like, "If Lance Corporal Trombley's as good with his SAW as he is with his shitter, I think Team One has issues..." It's so backwards and creepy and... I get it, I mean, find what the kid's weird about and push the button, except it's still so gross. I hate Trombley, he scares the piss out of me because he's so real, but what really scares me is the way they're always at him, all of them, because he's the FNG, and it's like: "Did you not notice that he is a fucking psycho? And kind of stupid? And a killer shot?" Any cognizant person not in the military would be telling him how great he's doing, not messing around with his head all the time. Not even out of kindness, just to spare the world another McVeigh. He's got a crack through him you can see from a billion miles away and it has to do with this stuff: manhood, weirdness about being out in all this, feeling left out even when he's not, and being unacquainted with reality on a basic level in the first place. Whatever's on the other side of Generation Kill, that's Trombley.
Commanders tent. Patterson asks if they're going to be rolling through the planned towns with a lot of heavy accompaniment, and Godfather nods. "Yes, Captain. We got kudos directly from General Mattis, I might add..." Sixta's retard bobblehead goes flopping all over the place "...For punching through yesterday where RCT-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." Not that Patterson fucking asked. Meanwhile, Encino Man makes that horrible moto face he makes, like, "Yay, George! I understood that part! Possibly!" Godfather repeats himself a bit, and then says some dry and pithy phrases.