Makes a hell of a racket, doesn't it, sir?

Highway:
You're dead, marine. You just stepped on four booby traps that blew your legs off and we'll have to send out a search party for your testicles. Now, where the hell's your backup? Lance Corporal Fragatti:
Profile. Highway:
What the fuck good you doin' back there? Without any cover fire, I get my ass blown off! While you guys are sittin' there pumpin' the neighbor's dog, we'll get every swinging dick in this platoon killed! Corporal 'Stitch' Jones:
Hey, chill out, man. That's what We're here for. Highway:
Say, what? Corporal 'Stitch' Jones:
We're here for that, man. We've ambushed Major Powers three times, and always right here. We know what we're doing. Highway:
Well, shit-for-brains, who says we're gonna ambush Major Powers right here? Corporal 'Stitch' Jones:
Hey, didn't you hear Lieutenant Ring? Major Powers wants us to die in a loud, grotesque, military manner. Highway:
I don't give a fuck about Major Powers. My job is to keep you men alive, now let's move on. [1st Platoon is approaching the ambush site] Maj. Malcolm A. Powers:
We'll come to the ambush site over the next hill. Sergeant Webster:
Roger that. Choozoo:
Sure does help knowing when and where you're gonna be hit, sir. [Recon watching 1st Platoon pass through a valley] Highway:
Easy. Give them a few more yards and we'll nail the coffin shut. Now. [Recon begins firing] Maj. Malcolm A. Powers:
[Reacting to his MILES gear going off]
You're in the wrong ambush site! Cease fire! You're in the wrong ambush site! [Sees Highway grinning at him] Maj. Malcolm A. Powers:
Sergeant Major, turn this damn thing off. Choozoo:
Makes a hell of a racket, doesn't it, sir?