Ewoks! Bob couldn’t help it. Ewoks accurately described the Mendocino Militia. It wasn’t that dredful a prognosis. These guys had state of the art weapons, small caliber, and they knew the woods. In spite of their slacker, surfer dude persona, they did have to protect their profitable grows and weed farms. They just did not have a lot of experience with tanks. None of them did.
The best they could do was strike from behind and try not to be in front. And, the Resistance won the battle of Endor. So, looking good! Bob caught a whiff of reefer smoke.
“Put that out goddammit!”. “When is the invasion force coming, dude?” “It’s SEAL Dude to you.” God, this was really absurd. He fought the urge to giggle. Now is not the time.
“2 to 3 hours. OK. Go ahead but that’s it!”. Bob muttered, “It might be your last one” “What SEAL dude?” “I said it may be your last one for awhile.” Ewoks. Ewoks, Bob almost laughed maniacally.
He shouldn’t complain anyway. Just a bend away from the border, the one paved road was covered in a million units of Cannabis shrubbery. The most expensive dooby ever and the first reefer weapon in the history of warfare. The new Fog of War.
They wore camouflage shrouds. Their job was to light up the smoke trap then skedaddle through the woods.
Bob had his own troops, the Dog-farts of War, from Kyoto. Not Special Ops, but Veterans all. They only had light Battle armor, designed for speed and camouflage. He felt armor gives a false sense of security, our chances of survival is a little higher if we have to do a lot of jinking, rolling & evading. He instructed his guys to be smart, attack from hiding. No heros. They had plans for a barbie next week and he intended they all attend. Odds were good all the bots will die, so it will have to be a manual cook-out.
Django Allen got on the team net, the charge is armed & triggered. If you want dance lessons, the minimum safe distance is Kyoto.” “Acknowledge Smart-ass. Now, we wait”, said SEAL Dude.
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