And when it does, it will be. They will come to your house, like wolves at the door. And every time we play this out, every time we fuck up the endgame, as Charlie Wilson said, they will come calling. They're invited; if you take away a man's house, you offer your own. That golden ladder reaching down? It goes up, too. The problem wasn't American foresight of terrorist plans, because the thing about terrorist plans is that they exist only in the margins of the safeguards you set. It only ever happens at the edge of vision. Lock down the roads and they come by air, lock up the planes and they'll walk across the border: it's how terrorism works. It's why terrorism works. And we keep begging for it. Lots of good intentions, not a lot of follow-through: and we don't get it, and we keep doing it, because rhetoric aside we're not there for regime change: we're there to ratfuck. We're not looking at the people because they're just a distraction: that's at the edge of vision too.
Doc Bryan, looking more awesome than ever before, does wound care on a little girl, explaining again and again through pointing and repeating to a little boy about what to do next. Brad can smell the cordite in the air, leftover from the night before. From every night before. Gunny reminds us of Battalion's official word, per Encino Man: "This is supposed to be the Shi'a removing the Fedayeen and the Sunnis that backed Saddam." Nate finally admits aloud that it's bullshit: "That's what they tell us in the briefings, but this is a hundred percent Shi'a neighborhood."
Tell me right now the difference between a Sunni and a Shi'ite Muslim. Tell me right now, right this second without recourse to Google, what a Ba'athist is. Show me where Iraq is on a map. Pin a fucking yellow ribbon on it.
"They asked me if it was possible, could we stay the night. I had to tell them no, we had orders. They asked for water. I told them we'd come back another day. But guess what, I just got word that we're gonna rebillet again, move from the hospital to some power plant further east. Chances are we'll patrol another neighborhood tomorrow, and then another one the next day." Brad watches a little kid, hopping over ordnance in the street. "This is madness." The men begin rioting at the med tents, freaking Doc out. The random translator guy says they're still asking for Valium: "They say they have headaches, they cannot sleep." Doc tells them they can frequent-flier right up their own asses until they stop cutting in front of the kids, and the guys clear out. A boy weeps in his arms. Christopher calls from outside the tent, "Doc? I'm handing out candy to the sick kids outside. These dudes just come by and steal it from them. Grown fucking men!"