Capt. Harris: Be advised. We've got zips in the wire down here.
Phantom Pilot: Roger your last, Bravo Six. Can't run it any closer. We're hot to trot and packing snake and nape, but we're bingo on fuel.
Capt. Harris: For the record, it's my call. Dump everything you've got left on my pos. I say again, expend all remaining in my perimeter. It's a lovely fucking war. Bravo Six out.
Phantom Pilot: Roger your last, Bravo Six. We copy. It's your call. Get them all in their holes down there. Hang tough, Bravo Six. We're coming cocked for treetops.