Video: No-one’s fault, but the Gunny would want …this bird rebuilt; CAD and bolts, Marines! Devilpup.
Self-correcting and or indictment/Captain’s Mast: “A great read, purchase “Lone Survivor,” by Marcus Luttrell at fine booksellers. For his own kin, seeing as they raised him right. Hi, Mrs. Luttrell! Happy -oof!”
Reiterted! Strong, a flurry of pulled jabs, also, after the face torso blows showboating by an Operator traveling on orders. Stuff, Jayson F.
Inspiration/Immediate Action: Next Post.
“All I did was provide words to my brain. Reading.”
“Only one of the few,” Bobby’s World, American, wait!
My EGA. Not Doom guy.
“Bird, the- sir!”
The Eagle, across the way, it came at EGA, and dome.
It had a heater.
“Get down, A-rifle,” the crew hustled, ‘A’ read, and heard as ‘Ayah,’ after the qoute misappropriation was added to Captain’s mast and tripod shortly after bipod, over the din heard bits, “Popping illum!”
Belt fed 1 belched copper encased ballround, 1/5 tracing.
“When you’re training the best,” the Navy Cross recipient did every thing he wished to, Ski-Mask way, “the music isn’t loud enough.”
Tupac. Wifey bait.
“For General Article,” oh, God I did not Freudian propose, “shipmate bribery! Demo-dick.”
“SEALs,” all gazelle legs and Doom, girl underneath me! Woman, “are authorized Navy, in instances approved, OPFOR hereto legal known Criminals.”
“As I was.”
“Peppy owes me, Fox.”
From a distance after his hard charging Hindu Kush days, I thought of placing away childish things and [1.] and swore the streets would be safe and more than twenty, such as the war fighting author, of Lone Survivor could steel beach, or train BAR with others who were the meanest, hungriest thing ever to come out of this ocean.