"The end state is a humble competent force occupying this area, ensuring security and mutual trust between us and the local populace." Because that's something we have found so easy to accomplish in our own country. And by "we" I mean "people" and by "country" I mean "ever."
"We have rolled through this country fucking things up. And now we have to show these people what we liberated them for." I fucking dare you to make me a list. "Marines have been here for about 24 hours. They've set up on the other side of this warehouse. They've had one killed and one wounded from sniper and mortar fire, so keep your PPE on at all times." There's a gunshot, but don't worry: those people killing people aren't murdering them in their own city. They're good guys. "Those are Navy SEAL snipers set up on the top floor of the office tower. And judging from their rate of fire, dropping a bad guy every five or ten minutes." Give or take. "But compared to where we've been, I think it's pretty safe here." Relative, as usual. He's assured of this: "We should all get a good night's rest. That's it." Everybody gives a tired, broken-spirited hoo-rah.
At the main gate, a car blows the hell up. Ray: "Motherfuckers from One Five are lighting up the street like it's cool." Trombley wants to "go help them out," meaning to kill people, and Ray's frankly interested in that too. Nearby, Nate notices that the whole "good night's rest" thing was a fantasy in every way, and Gunny nods. A bullet lands at Evan's feet and he picks it up. Ray's kidding when he notes that getting shot means neither a Purple Heart nor disability if you're a civilian like Evan, and offscreen somebody lovely calls that a waste of a good bullet. So just to review: getting shot not only gives you a boner apparently, which I'm still confused about, but also you get paid. Still not seeing how that equals out. You can get both of those things pretty easily, provided somebody's paying your gay ass to watch a show about half-naked Marines. They're just jokes, folks. "This is definitely not good," Nate worries, as the gunfire intensifies; this helicopter in the sky goes in a very wrong direction, physics-wise, while either shooting or being shot or both, and Nate's like: "What did I just say, things? Go good!" Everybody goes running, except for Evan and Trombley, who are still sufficiently living in a movie of their own lives that they can enjoy the total war movie they're in the middle of.
Nighttime, Brad's promising Eric everybody in Bravo will stand up and testify as to Captain America's incompetence if so called upon. Eric smiles wryly: "He has a full bird uncle at CENTCOM, I'm sure he's mentioned it to you. There's nothing to be done, Brad. Just suck it up and smile." He takes off and Brad feels helpless, but it's like: there's things you can fix and things that you can't, and sometimes the latter things hit you on the head. The tragedy of Brad is his belief; the tragedy of Eric is the same.