“It ain’t loaded, Gunny.” Dale swung the weapon to point at a flank and jammed the pin into the mount to stabilize it. “But them fuckers don’t know that.”
“What fuckers are you talking about this time, Dale?” Mallory glanced over his shoulder and saw his squad machinegunner wearing his helmet backwards and squinting at the Israeli convoy through mud-spattered goggles. Dale looked like a character in some old Rat Patrol flick.
“Far as ah’m concerned…” Dale took one hand off the machinegun and swept it from side to side across the Beirut city skyline and the surrounding mountains. “Them fuckers is every raghead and camel jockey in this whole country.”
“Knock it off, Dale.” Barlow motioned Mallory to steer for the shoulder of the road where it looked like there might be room to pass the ID
