War Machine

Good copy, Sapper Patrol. You're exiting the green zone now.

10th Mountain's convoy is stranded, no sitrep.

Be advised, Spartans convoy is in a black spot.

Comms will be sketchy. Stay sharp, watch your six.

Who's the full-fledged moron responsible for this clusterfuck?

Who's the meathead calling me a moron?

Meathead? You fucked up my morning pass.

-Oh, what are you gonna do about it? -What am I gonna do?

Noogie, baby! Got you again.

-Wait, you know this guy? -This one? Nah, never met him.

I just have the exact same tattoo by coincidence.

Really?

He's my big brother, numbnuts.

-Good to see you, bro. -You too.

-What'd this idiot do? -I don't know.

Hey, Tommy, a bit of hospitality. Get the shit.

Let me give you a science lesson on the laws of physics.

Walk you through what you should have learned in 8th grade.

First law of thermodynamics.

Energy can't be created or destroyed, so it's gotta go somewhere.

When you idiots fill these trucks with Stop Leak, you block the vents.

Heat can't escape. Pressure builds till the radiator blows.

You listening to this, Tommy?

Get that shit out of here.

I know it was you.

Mechanics keep ratting you out.

Why do you do it?

-You just don't care? -No, I care.

Sure, I care about this fucking golf cart

I get to drive around the desert breaking down every five minutes.

-Your fault. -Man, we should be on the front lines.

Fucking kicking doors like we said when we joined.

You know, we were all, "Don't fucking quit."

What'd we do? We fucking quit.

Dude, what are you talking about?

I'm talking about Ranger Assessment Selection Program.

My God.

-RASP? -Yeah.

Dude, take Tommy.

Tommy? He can't even spell "Ranger."

Intake starts in June.

That ship has sailed.

Rangers are fucking hardcore.

I'm fucking old.

-You're fucking ugly. -No, I checked the cutoff. We're good.

Bro, you wanna be a Ranger, go be a Ranger.

You don't need my permission.

I wanted to do it together, you know?

Like we promised each other.

Bro, we were 18.

We also said we were gonna start a thrash band.

Come on, man, just imagine.

You and me, getting our Ranger Scrolls.

Fucking running across the tarmac. Black Hawks.

First boots on the ground.

-That does sound pretty awesome. -Yeah.

All right. You're in, I'm in.

You promise?

Always.

Unbelievable.

-I just gotta top it off with coolant. -I got that shit.

-Are you sure? -Yeah, get outta here!

I don't see you screwing this up at all.

Hey, Tom, fill it up.

-We're both gonna be badass Army Rangers! -Starting to regret saying yes already.

Tier one, baby!

Hey, you're not gonna say goodbye?

I'll see you tomorrow when you fill it up again with Stop Leak.

We're gonna be Rangers, baby!

Incoming!

Contact!

Mortar incoming!

Get down!

Go! Get up!

Five minutes to base.

Get your packs ready!

Welcome to the Ranger Assessment Selection Program!

All candidates must proceed at pace to the induction hall immediately!

Move!

You will receive a Ziploc bag.

Place your name, paper, and rank inside that Ziploc bag.

-Anything personal, hand it over. -Tuck in your shirt!

Jewelry, phones, wallets, meds.

You no longer have a name.

You are a number!

You are now number 44.

Next!

You are now number 198.

-190. -Yes, sir.

As an E-6, you'll be assigned team leader.

-State your consent. -Yes, Sergeant.

You're now number 7.

Look who's back.

-One strike and you'll be out again. -If I may say so, Sergeant--

-Shut the fuck up. -Yeah.

You are now number 15. Next!

You are now number 111.

Number 122.

Fuck me. Applied four times, medically denied each time.

But he just made the age cutoff.

You got a plan B?

No, Sergeant.

As an E-6, you will be assigned team leader.

State your consent.

I'd rather not.

Ten minutes to formation!

You are now number 81.

-Yes, Sergeant. -Ten minutes to formation!

Rangers are the spearhead of the United States Army.

We are first on the ground every single time.

The fate of our nation and allies depends on our expertise.

Do you understand me?

Yes, First Sergeant!

You are about to embark on eight weeks

of the hardest selection program in the world.

Whether you have been deployed in combat or you are fresh out of basic,

you can expect your emotional, physical, and mental strength

to be pushed to the absolute limit and then some.

If, by the grace of God, you make it to the final stage,

you will undertake a 24-hour simulated mission

known as Death March,

completed by crossing that finish line.

At which point you will be eligible for the Ranger Scroll, the tan beret,

and the most storied regiment in the United States Army.

Attention!

Rangers lead the way!

All the way!

Welcome to RASP!

Come on, candidate! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go!

Let's see what you got!

Tough it out! Let's go!

We are looking for elite warriors!

The best of the best.

Seventeen, get the fuck out of here!

Every week, those who fail will be eliminated.

We just fucking started!

16, 27, 29, 53, step forward.

-Pack your bags. You are non-selects. -Get out.

-Come on, 81! -38.

Down!

Up!

-Thirty-nine! -Down!

Forty!

If you're thinking about quitting, do it now.

Welcome to week three.

The culling of the herd.

This one's broken, get him out of here!

Pick up those feet!

There's no shame in quitting.

Most of you will quit.

Do you really have what it takes?

Rangers lead the way!

77, 84, 142, step forward.

You are non-selects. Pack your bags.

You made it halfway.

But if you think it gets any easier, you are wrong!

I'm just saying, once we join regiment, it's top-secret clearance, right?

Means they're gonna have to tell us the truth about some things.

Y'all know what I'm talking about. I'm talking Area 51, moon landings.

I'm talking Tupac. Come on.

You're talking shit.

You think they're just gonna hand over an envelope of secrets with your scroll?

-Hell yeah. -That's not how it works, bro.

Oh, and how would you know that, 44?

I was DOD. I had the clearance.

Real question is why they gave us rifles with blanks in them

when you can bet there's some good hunting up here.

Yeah.

'Cause otherwise we'd all shoot 15.

Very funny, 7.

Look out.

Here comes the first.

Where's everyone else, candidate?

Behind me, Sarge.

Hey, slow down, Superman.

Making the rest of us look bad.

That is exactly what I was talking about.

Now, we got a lot of hopped-up 11 Bravos

who know how to shoot a rifle,

but I want a show of hands who's actually been deployed.

Where'd you serve, 109?

Fort Benning, Sergeant. Basic, AIT, and airborne.

Honor grad. Top of the class.

Deployments, candidate, not potty training.

And what about you, 60?

19-Kilo, M1 Abrams crewman, Sergeant.

Hot damn, a tanker.

Maybe you can valet my Lambo.

What about you, 81?

12 Bravo, combat engineer, 213th CSSB.

Who were you supporting, Sapper?

Third Brigade.

10th Mountain Division.

Spartans.

All right.

Let's see what you got.

Ready! Up!

Ready! Up!

-What happened to him? -213th was helping a stranded convoy.

Taliban showed up and smoked the whole unit.