Ray spots more foot-mobiles, and then realizes they're young women. He takes off his helmet while cursing excitedly, and puts on his ridiculous sunglasses. Brad's eating it up. "Brad! They're fucking hotties! I didn't know hajjis could be hotties. I thought they were all camel-faced hags!" He honks and calls out to them toolishly, wagging his tail and talking about his nonexistent rock star past. A man holds up a baby and all the people are all, "We love you, Americans. We love you! I love you Americans!" Brad thanks them, and reminds them to vote Republican.
Nate radios Brad, with a hitch in his voice, to cross a bridge that makes no sense. Brad checks the map and asks if he's sure -- that's not the right turn. Nate's voice says it all: "Direct order from Hitman Actual. He's going off of his map." Brad nods, disgusted. Of course, Encino Man is now reading maps. "They let him have a map?" Ray asks.
Eventually there's a full halt; Ray and Espera are asking what the deal is, but Brad's too busy staring out at a sea of grass and no more road: "Motherfuck." Encino Man radios to ask why they've halted, and Ray informs him that they're run out of road. Encino Man stares for a while, and Brad watches him fuss around. "Just figuring out we're lost..." Nate says, and Brad coughs. "I could have told him that a half an hour ago. The whole Battalion's two kliks east of us on the other side of the Gharraf canal. We are now to the rear of everybody." Nate shakes his head. "He's our commander, Brad." He doesn't see what we see. Encino Man randomly stares and does arcane movements for awhile, then hits the radio. "Hitman Two, this is Hitman Actual. We're gonna backtrack. Hitman Three will be on point. Colbert's team took a wrong turn at the bridge..." Brad opens his comms, face deadly, but Nate catches his eye and shakes his head, sympathetically. Wouldn't help.
Bravo Two stops to question some fleeing, unarmed civilians on their way back to rejoining the Battalion. "Villagers say they are grateful to be liberated by the Americans and look forward to working hand-in-hand..." Meesh says, as usual, and Doc Bryan cuts him dead: "You're lying, Meesh, and they fucking know it." One of the guys, talking excitedly, draws a finger across his throat. It's evocative. "Meesh," Nate says authoritatively, "Cut whatever bullshit the higher-ups have told you to say." Doc has, of course, had it. "We're all alone out here, Meesh. You fuck us, I'll smile killing you." Meesh, chillingly, admits that they told him to spin this stuff -- "a little psy-ops" -- but says they're right. "We're in this together. These dudes are saying there are some bad dudes up ahead. They know we're coming, and they want to hit us. And they hate America, man. I say we call in some air, some Cobras, fuck them up." Nate reminds him about the shamals on their way, the lack of air support, and Meesh is stupid and shitty some more so they walk off.