Evan walks out to find a place to crap, and there's a guy on a shitbox who at first seems like he might be asleep, but soon it becomes apparent that he's anything but. Where's Lilley's gay porn cam when you need it? Evan does a double take at witnessing his first combat jack not involving humping the ground with Corporal Person, and jets. He comes down into a scary area, against a metal gate, like a subway in a movie before the creatures come. He watches one guy running past, firing a weapon, and then things get hairy enough that he backs off.
Q-Tip grins up at him from his rack: "Combat jack?" No, but funny you mention it. "I tried to shit. I was looking for a place, I ended up out by the front gate. People started shooting at each other." He lies down on the ground. "I think I heard an Iraqi get shot right in front of me." One of the guys quips, "Too bad. He probably would have liked democracy." He gets a laugh, but not as much as Chaffin, still firing out into the darkness, screaming at the enemy. Evan snuggles up tight to the gunfire, and watches the bombs over Baghdad.
Breaking dawn, and it's time for mail call. Maybe Ray will do another hilarious monologue. Because if not, this shit is going to be hella depressing. Chaffin's got a bunch of bills, Lilley's car just got repo'd, and Manimal's wife is divorcing him. "She wants to take my kids with her back to Reno." Maybe she saw last week's episode. Evan asks Espera if everything's okay on the homefront, and it is. That doesn't make it easier, but it is. Lilley's wife misses him so much she's going to join the Marines. I wouldn't do that even for Lilley. Maybe I would become a sparkly-skinned vampire and dump my werewolf boyfriend for Lilley, resulting in a demon baby with a retarded name taking chomps out of my spine or whatever, but not the Marines. He's hot, but nobody's that hot.
"She already signed the papers. The fuck?" Chaffin suggests, classy as ever, that perhaps she'll end up in Motor T and get "airtighted by three niggers," which would in the estimation of another fine fellow of our United States Marine Corps cause her to resemble a "fucking cumdragon." Like, Falkor? ...Whoa, Daddy's working blue tonight. That's hardly an appropriate image. I apologize. Manimal goes half as fucking nuts as he's going to, which is still way nuts, about how he would like to at this point call in some danger-close on his wife, and additionally fly some Cobras right up her fucking lawyer's ass. There's a whole sympathy thing I'm missing for Jacks's problems, because I've never been given a reason to give a fuck about him beyond his enormous mitts, which are impressive.