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What is a “Ranger,” Anyway
If you ask a bat boy, he’ll give you the narrow definition, “a scroll-wearing member of the 75th Ranger Regiment,” one of the most elite military units in the world, a genuine bada**. According to most everyone else in the Army, it’s much broader: a member of the 75th Ranger Regiment AND/OR a graduate of…
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Why I Always Carried the Machine Gun
There’s a general rule in Ranger School: if it can be avoided, don’t carry a machine gun, not the SAW, and certainly not the big gun, the 27.6-pound M240B medium machine gun. That is because machine guns are heavier than rifles and have hundreds of rounds of ammo to carry. They are unwieldy and, to make…
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From the Cutting Room Floor: A Hungry Ranger Has to Eat
I’d be lying if I told you that Iraq was the first time I ate out of the trash. No . . . that dubious honor belongs to Ranger School . . . *** 11:55 p.m., October 2007, Camp Darby, Georgia *** “Psst! Psst! Goldsmith, over here.” Leon and Newton, two of my bat boy…
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Cruising the Strand: A 44-Mile Journey on LA’s Marvin Braude Bike Trail
It’s the weekend. The weather is fair, you have a few hours to kill, and you feel up for an adventure. So, you grab your skateboard, spray some WD-40 into the bearings, test the wheels, and head down the hill. A few minutes later, you are at Torrance Beach, just north of the Palos Verdes…
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“Feed me!”: War with the Cooks
What’d they have for dinner tonight?” “You didn’t eat? You would have loved it, Goldsmith.” “Why is that, Durk? What’d they have?” “Two chicken fingers.” “Two chicken fingers?” “Nuggets really, then a pitiful scoop of mashed potatoes and green beans that tasted like soap.” “So you’re telling me you’re still hungry, then?” “Oh, fuck yeah!”…