yup. they found our tumblrs.
They would look much more frightened than that
Favorite Relationships (shippy or platonic)
∟ Brad/Ray (Generation Kill)“Technically speaking, Brad, but didn’t your biological parents disown you when they put you up for adoption?”
“Point, Ray. I was one of those unfortunates adopted by upper-middle-class professionals and nurtured in an environment of learning, art, and a socio-religious culture steeped in more than two thousand years of Talmudic tradition. Not everyone is lucky enough to have been raised in a Whiskey Tango trailer park by a bowlegged female whose sole qualification for motherhood is a womb that happened to catch a sperm of a passing truck driver.”
“At least my mom took me to NASCAR!”
![andnowimhere:
Colbert appears, climbing over the berm. He sees the mother, the kid, the brother with the bloody leg, other members of the family who have now gathered nearby. He seems to reel back for an instant, then rights himself and approaches. “This is what Trombley did,” Doc Bryan says. “This kid was shot with five-five-six rounds from Trombley’s SAW.” Doc Bryan has concluded that Trombley was the only one to fire a weapon using this type of bullet. “Twenty other Marines drove past those kids and didn’t shoot. Bring Trombley up here and show him what he did.”
“Don’t say that,” Colbert says. “Don’t put this on Trombley. I’m responsible for this. It was my orders.” Colbert kneels down over the kid, right next to his mother, and starts crying. He struggles to compose himself. “What can I do here?” he asks. “Apparently fucking nothing,” Doc Bryan says.
[…]
I catch up to Colbert walking alone through the center of the encampment. “I’m going to have to bring this home with me and live with it,” he says. “A pilot doesn’t go down and look at the civilians his bombs have hit. Artillerymen don’t see the effects of what they do. But guys on the ground do. This is killing me inside.” He walks off, privately inconsolable.
-Evan Wright, Generation Kill](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m08vro4REy1qdato8o1_500.jpg)
Colbert appears, climbing over the berm. He sees the mother, the kid, the brother with the bloody leg, other members of the family who have now gathered nearby. He seems to reel back for an instant, then rights himself and approaches. “This is what Trombley did,” Doc Bryan says. “This kid was shot with five-five-six rounds from Trombley’s SAW.” Doc Bryan has concluded that Trombley was the only one to fire a weapon using this type of bullet. “Twenty other Marines drove past those kids and didn’t shoot. Bring Trombley up here and show him what he did.”
“Don’t say that,” Colbert says. “Don’t put this on Trombley. I’m responsible for this. It was my orders.” Colbert kneels down over the kid, right next to his mother, and starts crying. He struggles to compose himself. “What can I do here?” he asks. “Apparently fucking nothing,” Doc Bryan says.
[…]
I catch up to Colbert walking alone through the center of the encampment. “I’m going to have to bring this home with me and live with it,” he says. “A pilot doesn’t go down and look at the civilians his bombs have hit. Artillerymen don’t see the effects of what they do. But guys on the ground do. This is killing me inside.” He walks off, privately inconsolable.
-Evan Wright, Generation Kill
