"F.O.B. Marshall Mathers, spitting shells as fast as lyrics. What can we turn into dust for you?
- F.O.B. Mathers, this is Patrol five-one, from six-eight regiment. *No way, telemetry must be off! *Have you seen the size of ...* Sorry, yes, F.O.B. Mathers, we need emergency fire support, coordinates as follow. Standing by for report. Copy.
- What, you think we'll miss? Why so nervous? Copy.
- F.O.B Mathers, please hurry. Jus'wan'make sure, is all. Copy.
- Arright, P-five-one. High Ex', three rounds rapid, stand-by for report. Copy. Battery A, High Ex', three rounds rapid, coord as fo, fire for effect, report on arrival.
P-five-one, whass'your report?
- F.O.B Mathers, good hit, thank you, new salvo, *...still moving! Take it down! Take it down!* target not down, repeat, new salvo, target NOT down. Copy.
- What? You shittin' me! Target took three Excaliburs to the face! Are ya tellin'me an armored bunker grew legs an'wandered around Lybian suburbs?
- Do I sound like *** fucking joking? *Christ, it's getting up!* TARGET *OT DOW*EPEAT TARGET NOT DO*N, STANDING BY FOR REPO***OPY!"
"Batteries B and C, fall-in. Same directions as A. Preparing third salvo."
"Preparing fifth salvo. Copy.
- Fourth salvo, two out ** three received. *Hail Mary, full of grace,* Shut up, Kincaid, I'm tryin'to radio, here! Target started to lose speed. Copy.
- P-five-one, we linked with USS Antietam, sending cruise missiles. You're too close, evac the landing zone!
- Copy that, F.O.B. *** Heard it Sturger? We' movin'! Now stop crying and pack up the gear! CM INCOMING, move your PTSD ass, y'all!"
"Alors. Alors alors alors... Qu'avais-je dit au sujet de la fosse
du secteur Calypso, déjà?
- Boh, c'était juste un petit, hein.
- ET QUE FERONS NOUS-QUAND IL EN SORTIRA UN GROS? Hein? On atomise la Crête?"