Off to the side, Wynn and Sixta note the dip in morale, because that's 90% of their jobs, and Sixta says in slightly less than his usual illiterate retardese, "If morale gets really bad, Mike, let me know. I'll stir 'em up good with the Grooming Standard," and winks again. Which, if you've not been really paying attention, might seem like some swooping reversal where everything makes sense, except Pappy already told us in like the first episode that -- much like the denial of basic shit serves to make Marines even crazier -- being a Sergeant Asshole is the job, but being an Asshole Regular Grade is different, and that Sixta, the coward of Khafi, excels at both. Which makes him precisely one-half of a badass, and he can still suck it. Wynn's like, "Yeah, I'll let you know."
So, Nate tells us, "This was apparently Uday and Qusay's cigarette factory. They exported twenty brands of cigarettes and made almost $50 million a year." (Insert silly meta joke about how Evan and Nate both wrote awesome books that you really should have read by now, if I haven't mentioned them quite enough yet.) Meanwhile, in the real fictional real fake real secret actual world, Iraqi guys are writing a book and they don't even have paper and the book says, "We need help. We need help. Please, stop the looting." This book is not very satisfying because as anybody knows, a narrative needs two things: a sense of internal logic, and a sense of identification with the protagonist. Nobody's going to read the book of Iraqis begging to be saved from the hell we've plunged them into, because it lacks both.
The thing about decentralizing a government is that inevitably the rule of law gets all, you know, decentralized. It's nice to have a plan to stabilize it back, in addition to your plan to fuck everything up and hope that you can kill everybody that goes crazy as a result, but not historically likely, because everybody goes crazy when you drive them crazy on purpose, and then your choices are either to kill everybody, or else cross your fingers and hope it goes away. Or, in the case of our invasion of Iraq, somehow both.
Nate promises the guy that he understands -- which he does -- and that order will be restored very soon -- which it won't. I wonder how you say, "I am assured of this" in Iraqi Arabic. I imagine it sounds a lot like "Screwby" in Iraqi Arabic, being that they're the exact same phrase.
Evan, Brad, Lovell and Nate hunker down in a very dangerous place that seems not so dangerous for a second and then goes all, "Psych!" There's a very long, very worthwhile setup involving them scattering one by one down this exposed alleyway to a safe haven, so like Nate goes, "Colbert! Go!" and Brad goes, "Bounding!" and runs down the alley with sniper fire coming down, and gets to the place and yells, "Set!" and then the next person goes, etc., until there's just Evan and Nate, and Nate goes, "Reporter, you ready?" and Evan shits himself an adorable little bit and says, "...gnnnnrrrrrryes!" and then runs down the alleyway at right angles to himself, running serpentine. Which frankly is one of the funniest pieces in the book, but man, watching it happen is like the funniest thing ever. They watch him make his toddling way down the alley like a toddler on too much sugar after twenty minutes on the bouncy castle, finally arriving, with equivalent and identical WTF faces everywhere, like I'm sure even the sniper was like, "That's too adorably dorky to shoot at," and shrugging at them, high on adrenaline.