Army Ranger Quotes

Ranger is an unusual name," she managed. "Is it a nickname?" It's a street name," Ranger said. "I was a Ranger in the army." I heard about them Rangers on TV," Grandma said. "I heard they get dogs pregnant." My father's mouth dropped open and a piece of ham fell out. My mother froze, her fork poised in midair. That's sort of a joke," I told Grandma. "Rangers don't get dogs pregnant in real life." I looked at Ranger for corroboration and got another smile.

Yet each country had items that the other needed. The Arridi had reserves of red gold and iron in their deserts that the Toscans required to finance and equip their large armies. Even more important, Toscans had become inordinately fond of kafay, the rich coffee grown by the Arridi.

[-] Pigpen rounds to face the crowd. Like a lot of brothers in the club, he's ex-military. The voice of the six-two, massive former Army Ranger rumbles against the walls. "If you ain't a brother, clear out!

Back when I was a regular mortal kid, I didn't know much about combat. I had some murky ideas that armies would line up, blow trumpets, and then march forward to kill one another in an orderly fashion. If I thought about Viking combat at all, I would envision some dude yelling, SHIELD WALL! and a bunch of hairy blond guys calmly forming ranks and merging their shields into some cool geometric pattern like a polyhedron or a Power Ranger Megazord.

Pat was a serious listener. He was one of the first people who really challenged my ideas: 'Do you really believe that? Why? Don't accept everything you read. You should question it all, take what makes sense, and throw away the rest.' He was constantly asking, 'Did you ever consider this? What about that?' He changed the way I thought. (quoting Russell Baer, Army Ranger.)

Being a mother still happens if you don't stay home with your kids. It still happens if you get a job and go to work. It happens if you are an Army Ranger and you're deployed overseas and your kid is rating with your parents. Still a mother. Still not a job. Working or staying home, one is still a mother.

Less than a year and a half ago, the guy was crawling around in the muck in some foreign country as an Army Ranger. Even though he was recruited by the army for his mad computer skills, it was a bullet in the shoulder and chest he took saving someone in his squad that brought him home for good. The brother is damn lethal.

This country has not seen and probably will never know the true level of sacrifice of our veterans. As a civilian I owe an unpayable debt to all our military. Going forward let’s not send our servicemen and women off to war or conflict zones unless it is overwhelmingly justifiable and on moral high ground. The men of WWII were the greatest generation, perhaps Korea the forgotten, Vietnam the trampled, Cold War unsung and Iraqi Freedom and Afghanistan vets underestimated. Every generation has proved itself to be worthy to stand up to the precedent of the greatest generation. Going back to the Revolution American soldiers have been the best in the world. Let’s all take a remembrance for all veterans who served or are serving, peace time or wartime and gone or still with us. 11/11/16 May God Bless America and All Veterans.

It started out as a game, an exercise in observation not unlike assault drills from Army Ranger school.

Russians are easy to spot, even if you dress them like Buckingham Palace guards. They are “the white people who look seriously ticked off,” as Army Ranger vet Ellis Jones, RKC, has put it on our forum.

Back when I was a regular mortal kid, I didn’t know much about combat. I had some murky ideas that armies would line up, blow trumpets, and then march forward to kill one another in an orderly fashion. If I thought about Viking combat at all, I would envision some dude yelling SHIELD WALL! and a bunch of hairy blond guys calmly forming ranks and merging their shields into some cool geometric pattern like a polyhedron or a Power Ranger Megazord. Actual battle was nothing like that. At least, not any version I’d ever been in. It was more like a cross between interpretive dance, lucha libre wrestling, and a daytime talk show fight.

Somewhere inside, we hear a voice . . . ,” Pat Tillman would say as he considered leaving professional football to join the Army Rangers. “Our voice leads us in the direction of the person we wish to become, but it is up to us whether or not to follow. More times than not we are pointed in a predictable, straightforward, and seemingly positive direction. However, occasionally we are directed down a different path entirely.

Staying at home with your children is an incredible choice to make. And it's awesome and admirable if you make it. Go you. Being a mother still happens if you don't stay at home with your kids. It still happens if you get a job and go to work. It happens if you are an Army Ranger and you're deployed overseas and your kid is staying with your parents. Still a mother. Still not a job. Working or staying home, one is still a mother. One is not better than the other. Both choices are worthy of the same amount of respect.

As a soldier in the US Army, I was prepared to do whatever was asked of me because I believed, down to my soul, that the uniform I’d wear as a Ranger represented the defense of liberty and freedom, and the country I love. I’d chosen to serve because I could fight and because until wars stopped happening, people like me were needed. I had zero problem doing whatever it took to keep harm from coming to innocent people. Zero problem. Period, exclamation point, and freakin’ hooah.

PJs use parachuting skills to raid into enemy territory to rescue and save lives; army rangers parachute onto the battle field to kill enemy soldiers and capture ground, while a Green Beret will infiltrate a remote, hostile area to teach the local populace how to fight and defend themselves against an enemy. Recon marines can sneak into enemy territory and learn all their secrets. SEALs are small direct-action-oriented teams that can infiltrate areas by sea air, or land to accomplish their objectives, such as capturing or destroying high value targets. Air force combat controllers call in airstrikes, help seize enemy airfields, and use their air traffic control skills to orchestrate everything from large-scale aerial invasions to small insertions of American planes and soldiers. All of these elite units consider themselves exclusive brotherhoods. Members of these outfits live at the most dangerous extreme of human experience and entrust their lives to each other. They focus on a common mission and share unique experiences of adventure and danger.

God have mercy, and it was a genuine cry for help.

Grasp the simplicity and power of no excuses and you have guaranteed success.

Delegation indicates you trust your subordinates and will make them want even more responsibility.

Repetition is the single most powerful lever we have to improve skills, because it uses the built-in mechanism for making the wires of our brains faster and more accurate.

Thinking is constructive,” she said, “or contemplative. But dwelling is always looking backward, on things in the past. Things you can’t change.

Pigpen is one of those men we stand solid for. He fought in Afghanistan. Served several terms in the Army as a Ranger. He won't ask anyone for permission to exercise his God-given rights.

At U.S. Central Command with hundreds of thousands of troops assigned to me, I had in my command group a U.S. Army Ranger sergeant major and a U.S. Navy admiral who didn’t give a damn what I thought of them: if they thought that I had made a bad call, with door closed they would quickly make their point loud and clear. I trusted them to do this, and they never let me down.

These people weren't Navy SEALs or Army Rangers, weren't trained by the best professional warriors in the world, weren't seasoned by a real war in which they had encountered an enemy who fought back. They lacked the honor of SEALs and Rangers, lacked ideals that stiffened the spine in times of peril. They were fanatics, driven by emotion rather than reason. Their commitment was to destruction instead of to the preservation of what was good, and this commitment made them feel dangerous, therefore powerful and superior. Being dangerous, however, wasn't the same as being powerful and certainly didn't support a claim to superiority. Like all barbarians, they were vulnerable to panic and confusion when the destruction they wished to wreak was visited instead upon them.

Being a mother still happens if you don’t stay home with your kids. It still happens if you get a job and go to work. It happens if you are an Army Ranger and you’re deployed overseas and your kid is staying with your parents. Still a mother. Still not a job. Working or staying home, one is still a mother. One is not better than the other. Both choices are worthy of the same amount of respect.

As for diversity within the military itself, highly publicized instances of tokenism—female officers becoming fighter pilots or graduating from the army’s Ranger School—divert attention from gaping inequities related to class.

SGT Steven C. Ganczewski, a Ranger in editor Chuck Holton's unit, had been asked by a high-school guidance counselor why a young man with his "potential" would join the Army. "Someone with his potential"--as if selfless service, even to the point of giving one's life for a cause greater than any one of us--is somehow beneath one's "potential." Thankfully, Patrick Henry and George Washington didn't feel that way in 1775.

It’s a different situation,” he said finally. “The attack on Celtica was more of a raid than an invasion. He wouldn’t have needed more than five hundred men for that and they could travel light. To attack Araluen, he’ll need an army—and he wouldn’t get an army down those cliffs and across with a few ladders and rope bridges.” Will regarded him with interest. This was a side of Horace that was new to him. Apparently, Horace’s learning curve in the past seven or eight months had gone beyond his mere skill with the sword. “But surely, if he had enough time…?” he began, but Horace shook his head again, more decisively this time. “Men, yes, or Wargals in this case. Given enough time, you could get them down and across. It would take months, but you could manage it. Although the longer it took, the more chance word would get out about what you were doing. “But an army needs equipment—heavy weapons, supply wagons, provisions, tents, spare weapons and blacksmith’s equipment to repair them. Horses and oxen to pull the wagons. You’d never get all that down cliffs like those. And even if you did, how would you get it across? It’s just not feasible. Sir Karel used to say that…” He realized the others were regarding him curiously and he flushed. “Didn’t mean to go on and on,” he mumbled, and urged his horse forward again.

In 2015 John McDougall, an army chaplain, West Point graduate, and veteran of Iraq and Afghanistan, published Jesus Was an Airborne Ranger: Find Your Purpose Following the Warrior Christ. Stu Weber, a fellow Ranger who first met McDougall at West Point, contributed the book’s foreword. Setting aside the pretty-boy Sunday-school Jesus no real man could relate to, McDougall made clear that his savior was no Mister Rogers. He was a warrior who knew how to channel aggression when he needed to.

A Conspiracy Theory that took hold was introduced by Anthony “Tony” Summers, the respected author of The Kennedy Conspiracy, published in 1980 and again in 1998 as “Not in Your Lifetime.” He believes that anti-Castro activists, funded by Mafia mobsters who had been ousted from Cuba, killed Kennedy. Summers believes that members of the CIA took part in this conspiracy and named the people he suspected. Summers also stated in an article published in the National Enquirer magazine, on October 25, 2013, that Lee Harvey Oswald didn’t act alone. The National Enquirer stated that Herminio Diaz, born in Cuba in 1923, had, in 1948, shot Pipi Hernandez, who was a Dominican exile employed at the naval base at Guantanamo. This killing took place at the Cuban Consulate in Mexico. In 1957, he was involved with an assassination attempt against President José Figueres of Costa Rica, who incidentally was a trained Army Ranger and a graduate of the United States Military Academy at West Point. According to JFKFacts published on May 27, 2014, General Fabián Escalante, the historian of Cuban State Security and Castro’s former bodyguard, said that the assassin Herminio Diaz, along with Eladio del Valle and three American mobsters: Richard Gaines, Lenny Patrick, and Dave Yara, were the shooters at Dealey Plaza.

Hackham Heath was an open space covered with knee-high gorse, interspersed with clumps of taller bushes. It stretched for half a kilometer and on either side it was bounded by thick forest. The ground sloped upward, and at the beginning of the slope, the Slipsunder River ran in a huge U-shaped curve. The river widened at the semicircular curve, and the water shallowed, providing a ford. The army had crossed that spot the previous day. Around the ford, the banks were wet and muddy, but by no means impassable. To either side, in the arms of the U, the river ran among thick trees. It was narrower, but much deeper. And the current was fast and treacherous. The ford was the only point where it was possible to cross. The

With the exception of Nuukaru and Escute, I had no doubts about my loyalties. Which were in the following order: to any other Ranger, and then to myself. Toshaway had been right: you had to love others more than you loved your own body, otherwise you would be destroyed, whether from the inside or out, it didn't matter. You could butcher and pillage but as long as you did it for people you loved, it never mattered. You did not see any Comanches with the long stare – there was nothing they did that was not to protect their friends, their families, or their band. The war sickness was a disease of the white man, who fought in armies far from his home, for men he didn’t know, and there is a myth about the West, that it was founded and ruled by loners, while the truth is just the opposite; the loner is a mental weakling, and was seen as such, and treated with suspicion. You did not live long without someone watching your back and there were very few people, white or Indian, who did not see a stranger in the night and invite him to join the campfire.

The enemy won some points at the very beginning. On both of the two days preceding his remarks about Worth, Hitchcock notes that American deserters had been shot while crossing the Rio Grande. Probably they were just bored with army rations but there was some thought that they might be responding to a proclamation of General Ampudia’s which spies had been able to circulate in camp. Noting the number of Irish, French, and Polish immigrants in the American force, Ampudia had summoned them to assert a common Catholicism, come across the river, cease “to defend a robbery and usurpation which, be assured, the civilized nations of Europe look upon with the utmost indignation,” and settle down on a generous land bounty. Some of them did so, and the St. Patrick Battalion of American deserters was eventually formed, fought splendidly throughout the war, and was decimated in the campaign for Mexico City — after which its survivors were executed in daily batches.… This earliest shooting of deserters as they swam the Rio Grande, an unwelcome reminder that war has ugly aspects, at once produced an agitation. As soon as word of it reached Washington, the National Intelligencer led the Whig press into a sustained howl about tyranny. In the House J. Q. Adams rose to resolve the court-martial of every officer or soldier who should order the killing of a soldier without trial and an inquiry into the reasons for desertion. He was voted down but thereafter there were deserters in every Whig speech on the conduct of the war, and Calm Observer wrote to all party papers that such brutality would make discipline impossible. But a struggling magazine which had been founded the previous September in the interest of sports got on a sound financial footing at last. The National Police Gazette began to publish lists of deserters from the army, and the War Department bought up big editions to distribute among the troops. Taylor sat in his field works writing prose. Ampudia’s patrols reconnoitered the camp and occasionally perpetrated an annoyance. Taylor badly needed the Texas Rangers, a mobile force formed for frontier service in the Texas War of Independence and celebrated ever since. It was not yet available to him, however, and he was content to send out a few scouts now and then. So Colonel Truman Cross, the assistant quartermaster general, did not return from one of his daily rides. He was still absent twelve days later, and Lieutenant Porter, who went looking for him with ten men, ran into some Mexican foragers and got killed.

AND SO THE Kiowa and the Comanche lived and raided and hunted out on the long rolling plains while the telegraph and the railroad approached from the east, bringing news of the corruptions of Washington and the Communards of Paris and the street fighting there. Samuel Hammond still refused to issue the orders that would have sent the army after the Kiowa and Comanche and bring them back by force to the reservation. So a band of Comanche rode down on Ledbetter’s Salt Works west of Fort Belknap. The men left the hot salt pans and retreated behind a palisade and charged their small field cannon. They knew they had no help from either the Rangers or the army nor would they go back to where they had come from in the southern states, now an occupied country, and so they fought until they ran out of ammunition. Jiles, Paulette. The Color of Lightning: A Novel (pp. 288-289). HarperCollins e-books. Kindle Edition.

When William Harness, a regular soldier, was recruiting in Sheffield, he set off with three or four other officers, as he told his wife Bessy: Then follows a Cart with a Barrel of ale with fidlers and a Man with a Surloin of Roast Beef upon a pitch fork, then my Colours of yellow silk with a blue shield with a reath of oak leaves and trophies, and in Silver letters on one side ‘Capt. Harness’s Rangers’, on the other ‘Capt. Harness’s Saucy Sheffielders’.8 The sergeant, corps, drums and fifes followed. ‘You can conceive the stir in a prosperous place like this all this noise must make. I am become very popular.’ Harness was one of many officers recruiting their own companies. He had been in the army for thirteen years, saving money to marry his ‘adored Bessy’, Elizabeth Biggs, in 1791. During her long wait Bessy took up botany, tried to run a book club in her home town of Aylesbury, and loyally made him shirts.

Morgarath’s plan called for five hundred Skandian mercenaries to make their way through the swamps of the fenlands and attack the Araluen garrison at Three Step Pass. With the Pass undefended, Morgarath’s main army of Wargals would be able to break out and deploy into battle order on the Plains.

He is a US Army Rangers veteran and was once a small-town police chief. He says he retired when “the city council got afraid of me.” “When I was a cop, I knew damn well that I would shoot your ass. I didn’t carry two extra clips, I carried four. When I went to work, I went to war. When I got off, I still went to war. I carried two clips on me regardless of what I was wearing. I carried at least my Glock forty underneath my arm and usually I had a Glock forty-five on my ankle. Go ahead, play with me.

In Florida we got to hang out with some of America’s finest at Eglin Air Force Base. The army Rangers there had been clearing a section of bush for doing operations and had encountered a huge eastern diamondback rattlesnake. Diamondbacks grow to be the largest rattlers anyway, but this one was big for another reason: She was pregnant. Not long after the Rangers’ reptile handlers had transported her back to a holding facility, she gave birth. We watched as the newborn rattlers worked their way out, lay still for a short moment, and then immediately began striking at everything and anything nearby. Although it was a great defense mechanism, in case a predator was about to eat them, it appeared pretty comical. Bite, bite, bite, strike, strike, strike. Then they would curl up and hide for a while. Soon enough it was back on the offensive: bite, strike, bite. They were all fang, and trying to look tough. An interesting way to greet the world. Steve and I scooped up the baby rattlesnakes and held them until they went through their strike phase. We made sure to set them down before they went back to their frenzied biting. “What happens if you’re bitten by a venomous snake while you are breastfeeding?” Steve asked. “I don’t know,” I answered. “I’d probably have to stop breastfeeding, right?” “Just be sure not to get bitten,” Steve said. “Deal,” I said. I scooped up a little wet rattler, talked to the camera, then set the snake back down. Boing, boing, boing went the baby rattler, jumping madly around, trying to bite everything. Even the Rangers laughed. Once the Rangers had completed their training mission, all the dangerous wildlife they collected (including the rattlers) would go right back where they came from. We were very proud to have worked with some of America’s heroes.

What’s wrong, Mom?” Anna asked. Mom looked like she’d been crying, but she said, “Nothing, sweetie.” “Who is Dad talking to?” I asked. I knew she’d protect us from whatever was happening, so I went straight for facts. If I gathered enough facts I could figure it out on my own. “Some friends of his from work.” “Uncle Jack?” I asked. Jack wasn’t an uncle but we called him that. He was my dad’s foreman in the roofing business. “No, honey. From the Army. His old work.” It was September 11, 2001, and the call he’d made was to his commanding officer in the Reserve. I’d figure that out later. And I’d learn that he’d done ROTC through college, then served with the Fifth Special Forces Group in Desert Storm. I’d learn that his shoulder injury had come from shrapnel embedded in his rotator cuff. I’d learn, just from watching him, from listening to him talk to his buddies, about Ranger School. Jump school. The Ranger Battalions. The Scroll. The Creed. That Rangers lead the way. But I didn’t know any of that then. I knew my dad as a roofer. A fisherman. A lover of Pearl Jam and Giants baseball. He was the guy who launched me over the waves on the beach, and who bench-pressed Anna because it made her giggle in a way that nothing else did. He was my mom’s best friend, with some additional elements like kissing that seemed pretty gross because, you know, I was six. But I learned something new about him that morning. I learned that when bad things happened, my dad stepped forward first. I learned he was a hero. A real one. And that I wanted to be like him

Mitchell was a former army ranger who’d long operated in the grey area of society, both within the military and since retiring. He knew how to get answers to unwanted questions quickly and quietly.

Who are we, the people who have ADHD? We are the problem kid who drives his parents crazy by being totally disorganized, unable to follow through on anything, incapable of cleaning up a room, or washing dishes, or performing just about any assigned task; the one who is forever interrupting, making excuses for work not done, and generally functioning far below potential in most areas. We are the kid who gets daily lectures on how we’re squandering our talent, wasting the golden opportunity that our innate ability gives us to do well, and failing to make good use of all that our parents have provided. We are also sometimes the talented executive who keeps falling short due to missed deadlines, forgotten obligations, social faux pas, and blown opportunities. Too often we are the addicts, the misfits, the unemployed, and the criminals who are just one diagnosis and treatment plan away from turning it all around. We are the people Marlon Brando spoke for in the classic 1954 film On the Waterfront when he said, “I coulda been a contender.” So many of us coulda been contenders, and shoulda been for sure. But then, we can also make good. Can we ever! We are the seemingly tuned-out meeting participant who comes out of nowhere to provide the fresh idea that saves the day. Frequently, we are the “underachieving” child whose talent blooms with the right kind of help and finds incredible success after a checkered educational record. We are the contenders and the winners. We are also imaginative and dynamic teachers, preachers, circus clowns, and stand-up comics, Navy SEALs or Army Rangers, inventors, tinkerers, and trend setters. Among us there are self-made millionaires and billionaires; Pulitzer and Nobel prize winners; Academy, Tony, Emmy, and Grammy award winners; topflight trial attorneys, brain surgeons, traders on the commodities exchange, and investment bankers. And we are often entrepreneurs. We are entrepreneurs ourselves, and the great majority of the adult patients we see for ADHD are or aspire to be entrepreneurs too. The owner and operator of an entrepreneurial support company called Strategic Coach, a man named Dan Sullivan (who also has ADHD!), estimates that at least 50 percent of his clients have ADHD as well.

What you are, who you serve, and what you’ve come to do. I know it all very well. The evil you bring to our land. Uthar brings us death and destruction with his great bloodthirsty army of pale men with sun-colored hair and beards. With their murderous axes and their round shields, with their greed for conquest and pillage hidden behind them. But we don’t fear them, we’ll fight for our land. We’ll defend it to the last of our own people, because it is sacred and our cause is fair. We will kill all who soil this frozen ground.” Lasgol realized that he could not deceive him. That they would not get out of there alive. “We’ll kill you all, you cursed barbarian Norghanians.” The Shaman made a sign to the beast, which fell on them.

what job he worked, he’d never

How far do you think we’d get, afoot like we are?” “Maybe when we leave here we won’t be afoot.” “Takin’ other people’s horses is what got us into the army in the first place.” “And it’ll get us away from here. Stay close to me and maybe you’ll learn somethin’.” “I learned a lot the last time.

Pros and cons: What were they? Pros: They had fallen in with a group of pretty decent people, including two ex-Army Rangers. That was a major pro right there. Matt had been a good friend and a good partner, but Matt wasn’t an ex-Army Ranger. Or an ex-SWAT commando. Will and Danny were both. Cons: He couldn’t think of any at the moment. Conclusion: Things were looking up. Hell yeah.

Even though it was after midnight, the lights were still burning in Baron Arald’s office when Halt and Gilan reached the castle. The Baron and Sir Rodney, Redmont’s Battlemaster, had a lot of planning to do, preparing for the march to the Plains of Uthal, where they would join the rest of the kingdom’s army. When Halt explained Gilan’s need, Sir Rodney was quick to see where the Ranger’s thinking was headed.

Pros and cons: What were they? Pros: He was with Will. That was a hell of a pro right there. When there were men with guns around, he preferred to have the guy next to him be an ex-Army Ranger.

Hey,” a deep unfamiliar voice said from behind her. Every nerve went on alert. Her heart pounded with fear. Instinct told her to run, but how far could she go with him so close? She grabbed a knife from the butcher block beside her and spun around, hurting her sore feet but not really feeling the pain. “Stay where you are. Don’t come any closer.” Somewhere in her muddled mind he looked familiar, but the fear stole her rational thoughts. Her hands shook and she backed up into the counter, looking everywhere for an escape that seemed impossible. “Hey now, you’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” Tears filled her eyes. Too much to take in one night, she stammered, “Get out. Leave me alone.” The stranger took a step toward her, and she took one toward him. “Get out, or I’ll gut you where you stand.” One side of his mouth cocked up in a slanted grin. His eyes flashed with admiration, confusing her. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m looking for Owen.” “He doesn’t live here. Why does everyone think he lives here?” she yelled. A flash of movement came from her left; she swung to face the new danger and inhaled when Owen rushed her, pushing the knife out of his way and pulling her close. She immediately dropped it and grabbed hold of him as he kept his back to the stranger, her back to the counter, and his big body protecting her. “You’re okay, sweetheart. That’s my brother, Brody. He came to help me board up the glass door.” He hugged her closer when she grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and held him tighter, crying all over the front of his shirt, her face buried in his chest, her bravado from a moment ago drained away, overwhelmed by her fear. Owen was here, holding her, keeping her safe. She needed him and refused to let go, even when he tried to back away. “Brody, man, you want to give us a minute.” “Sure. I just wanted to let her know I’m here. She’s got a lot of guts, facing off with me with that knife. I like her.” “Yeah, I like her, too.” Owen brushed his hand over her head and settled into her, holding her tight and close. Brody left with a chuckle and an “I bet you do.” All of a sudden she felt foolish, but it didn’t stop her from staying in Owen’s arms. She shifted on her feet, and he slid his big hands down her back to her waist, hoisting her up onto the counter. His warm hands settled on her thighs, spreading them wide so he could stand between them. Close. Intimate. Their eyes met, and he reached up and swiped his thumbs across both her cheeks, taking away the tears. She got hold of herself enough to say, “Your brother is huge.” “You just faced off with an ex– Army Ranger. He could take you out with one lethal smile.” “He wasn’t smiling.” “He doesn’t much, since he got home. Unless he’s with Rain." -Brody, Claire, & Owen

Just imagine for a moment you are a Yazidi sex slave, spending an eternity of days being beaten and mounted by some filthy jihadi old man with cigarette-stained teeth and the blood of Christian children still splattered on his shirt. Then, U.S. Army Rangers storm the room, sending the rapist to the Hell he was long overdue for. They wrap you in a blanket and take care of you. Feed you. Mend your wounds, and do their best to salve your emotional and spiritual scars. They send you to America as a refugee. Blessed to live in a free and prosperous nation, you decide to take advantage of all America has to offer. You go to a good college on a scholarship and while there some woman authority figure with open-toed shoes and a closed mind tells you that you have it no better here than you did in that tent back in the desert. This talk isn’t just dumb. It’s not just dangerous. It is, quite simply, evil. [Responding to article by Amy Lauricella, staff attorney at Global Rights for Women, asserting that "While ISIS endorses rape, American college administrations similarly facilitate the rape of women on campuses"]

Lara said you and Danny were Army Rangers,” Josh said. “That’s right.” “You guys were in Afghanistan.” “We were.” “What’s the difference between this war zone and that one?

It read Staff Sargent Douglas Tibbs with the surviving members of his army ranger strike team, Libya 1984. The men in the picture looked solemn, sad. Jonathan had to assume that the keyword from the photo was ‘surviving.

Due to poaching and global warming, future generations will not be able to see some animal and plant species given the rate at which they are disappearing from the forests and seas. Both vices are man-made and man must be challenged and confronted on these global issues. Park rangers, armies and nature conservation trusts are still grappling to find lasting solutions – will you join them in this fight?

It read Staff Sergeant Douglas Tibbs with the surviving members of his Army Ranger Strike Team, Libya, 1984.

Pigpen is in his late twenties and thinks he's all handsome with his blonde hair and big muscles. Because he was a Navy SEAL or Army Ranger or something outrageous like that, he also thinks he's awesome, but he doesn't impress.

Somewhere between Burger King and now, the Syrian’s sleight-of-hand security system worked. Pike wasn’t here. I never doubted, not once, he would find me. My task was to stay alive until it happened or I could escape on my own. The United States Army sent me to something called Ranger School. The Ranger motto was sua sponte. It meant you’re on your own, asshole. Okay.

The Battle of Mogadishu on October 3, 1993, was part of Operation Restore Hope. We remember it now as “Black Hawk Down” from the novel (and subsequent film) of that name by an on-the-scene journalist, Mark Bowden. Army Rangers paid a heavy price for not looking “too intimidating” or “like invaders,” valiantly fighting while stripped of the equipment they requested. Had the administration not ignorantly meddled with events, the 160 Special Forces operators of Army Rangers and Delta wouldn’t have taken so many casualties. And here is what the Clinton Machine didn’t comprehend: Our guys wouldn’t have had to inflict as many casualties either, shooting their way out against 4,000–6,000 Somalis with an entire city of civilians trapped in the crossfire. The Rangers became a legend that day but lost eighteen fine men and suffered seventy-three wounded.

His Army Ranger unit had always been ready for an ambush. Five years in special ops had made him suspicious of most. On that last mission, though…even Luke had been taken in.

When is the army getting here?” “Never,” he said. “Well . . . One riot, one Ranger.” “Sure. Unless you’re the one Ranger.

To win you must change the way you approach day-to-day situations. You must have the courage to choose the harder right over the easier wrong.

of Talent, author Dan Coyle emphasizes his belief that

David Goggins is a retired Navy SEAL and the only member of the U.S. Armed Forces ever to complete SEAL training, U.S. Army Ranger School, and Air Force Tactical Air Controller training. Goggins has competed in more than sixty ultra-marathons, triathlons, and ultra-triathlons, setting new course records and regularly placing in the top five. A former Guinness World Record holder for completing 4,030 pull-ups in seventeen hours, he’s a much-sought-after public speaker who’s shared his story with the staffs of Fortune 500 companies, professional sports teams, and hundreds of thousands of students across the country.

Schuster, 1983. ———. The Supreme Commander: The War Years of General Dwight D. Eisenhower. New York: Doubleday, 1970. Ambrose, Stephen E., and Richard H. Immerman. Ike’s Spies: Eisenhower and the Espionage Establishment. Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1981. Ankrum, Homer. Dogfaces Who Smiled Through Tears. Lake Mills, Ia.: Graphic Publishing, 1987. Armstrong, Anne. Unconditional Surrender. New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 1961. Arnbal, Anders Kjar. The Barrel-Land Dance Hall Rangers. New York: Vantage Press, 1993. Ashcraft, Howard D. As You Were: Cannon Company, 34th Infantry Division, 168th Infantry Regiment. Richmond, Va.: Ashcraft Enterprises, 1990. Astor, Gerald. The Greatest War: Americans in Combat, 1941–1945. Novato, Calif.: Presidio, 1999. Auphan, Paul, and Jacques Mordal. The French Navy in World War II. Trans. A.C.J. Sabalot. Annapolis: United States

comforting

You asshole,” I punched him in the shoulder. “Gentle! I bruise easily.” He rubbed his carved biceps and I caught a glimpse of a tattoo on his arm: a skull wearing a beret. Army Ranger. Now I had seen everything.

During their brief history the newly formed Special Operations Forces had already achieved a notable record, but they had yet to tackle a major rescue of the magnitude of the Lady Flamborough hijacking. The orphan child of the Pentagon, the Special Operations Forces were not molded into a single command until the fall of 1989. At that time the Army's Delta Force, whose fighters were drawn from the elite Ranger and Green Beret units and a secret aviation unit known as Task Force 160, merged with the top-of-the-line Navy SEAL Team Six and the Air Force's Special Operations Wing. The unified forces cut across service rivalries and boundaries and became a separate command, numbering twelve thousand men, headquartered at a tightly restricted base in southeast Virginia. The crack fighters were heavily trained in guerrilla tactics, parachuting, wilderness survival and scuba diving, with special emphasis on storming buildings, ships and aircraft for rescue missions.

army’s

You’d be wise to adopt and refine the use of the self-talk technique. It is perhaps the single most valuable tool that you can use to develop the mindset, confidence, and resilience needed to achieve your goals.

If you anticipate mistakes and unexpected situations you will be better able to deal with them.

This is what you need to know. I keep the people around me safe, and sometimes I rain vengeance on my enemies. It's who I am, and what I do. As a former Army Ranger, I get the job done. After an unforgivable betrayal by one of my own, I created the Shadow Alliance. We handle the dark and dangerous work, jobs that governments won't.

Wikipedia: Plan of San Diego The Plan of San Diego (Spanish: Plan de San Diego) was drafted in San Diego, Texas, in 1915 by a group of unidentified Mexican and Tejano rebels who hoped to secede Arizona, New Mexico, California, and Texas from the United States and create a racial utopia for Native Americans, Mexican Americans, Asian Americans, and African Americans. The plan called for the execution of all white men over the age of sixteen. The goal of the plan is debated. The plan stated a supposed "attempt to overthrow the government in the Southern United States." However, some theories state that the true goal of the plan was to create the conditions to force the US to support one of the factions of the Mexican Revolution, as eventually occurred. The plan called for the killing of all adult white American men in the Southwestern states and the "return of land to Mexicans." It was, however, exposed before it could be fully executed. Although there was no uprising, there were raids into Texas that began in July 1915. The raids were countered by Texas Rangers, the U.S. Army and local self-defense groups. In total, 30 raids into Texas destroyed large amounts of property and killed 21 Americans. It is not known who was responsible for drafting the Plan of San Diego, but there are theories that Mexican revolutionary leaders helped to sponsor it.

The linebacker and the Army Ranger go into action as part of a team. But the artist and the entrepreneur enter combat alone. I take my hat off to every man or woman who does this.

By trying to stop all major wildfires, the Forest Service had only fed the beast. The woods were full of dry, dying, aging timber and underbrush—fuel. Big swaths were unhealthy, in need of a cleansing burn. Even with their armies, their aerial support, their billions in taxpayer money to hold back the flames, rangers became increasingly helpless. As firefighting took up nearly half the Forest Service budget, it was a mission at odds with the course of the natural world, and common sense. It was not what Roosevelt and Pinchot had in mind. The years brought bigger, hotter, longer, earlier wildfires. With a warmer climate, it all added up to something catastrophic on the horizon.

was taken aback. I really was. “The first kiss should be magical,” Liam continued. “It should transcend greatness. It should be the culmination of a mutual magnetic attraction, the coming together of two people in a moment of intimacy and passion.

Two Arm Kettlebell Swing Start Position—Stand one foot behind kettlebell, grasping KB with both hands, loading the hamstrings with a good athletic posture Execution—Throw KB in a 'hiking' motion between the legs maintaining a good athletic posture. This loads the body. Then triple extend the hips, knees, and ankles in an explosive manner. At this time, the arms should serve as a tether, only guiding the KB to about eye level. The height of the KB is dictated by the explosiveness of the lower body. Return—Lower the KB by using gravity to control the KB back into the athletic position with the KB high in the crotch (ie. a witch on a broomstick)

BACK WHEN I was a regular mortal kid, I didn’t know much about combat. I had some murky ideas that armies would line up, blow trumpets, and then march forward to kill one another in an orderly fashion. If I thought about Viking combat at all, I would envision some dude yelling SHIELD WALL! and a bunch of hairy blond guys calmly forming ranks and merging their shields into some cool geometric pattern like a polyhedron or a Power Ranger Megazord.

Somebody needs to be in charge! They may not always like what you’re doing, but press on!” My late uncle, CSM, US Army (Ret) Harris L. Parker, Airborne Ranger, aka Hardcore

the Army Ranger creed: It’s not your job to die for your country, it’s your job to make the other guy die for his.