가입 후 초대 링크를 공유하면 동영상 재생 및 초대 보상을 받을 수 있습니다.

Mike Netter
@nettermike
Candidate California State Senate 22. Main proponent for previous drive to Recall Newsom! Media Host Lets take back California Donations to link below help
가입 April 2012
43.5K 팔로잉 중    116.8K
Fifteen years ago, under a cloudless Afghan sky and the crushing heat of the Helmand sun, Captain Ryan Cohen stood before his Marines of Kilo Company, 3rd Battalion, 7th Marines. The air was dry, the dirt baked hard, and every man there knew they were about to step deep into Taliban-controlled territory. Cohen didn’t give them some polished, ceremonial speech. He spoke like a man about to fight alongside them—and he was. He told them about fear, sadness, and regret. He didn’t pretend those feelings didn’t exist—he warned them they would come for you if you let them. Then his voice turned like steel: “The enemy is not ten feet tall—they’re four-foot-two, they’ve got a short reach, and you’re gonna fuck them up.” He told them to be methodical. To move with precision. To expect the unexpected—and when it came, to destroy it without hesitation. He gave them the rule that would outlive the fight: “Don’t let fear get inside that head of yours.” What seemed like moments later, the Marines of Kilo Company stepped off, and Afghanistan exploded around them. Machine-gun fire, mortars, and chaos—and Cohen was in the middle of it, moving through enemy fire, pulling Marines forward, and leading from the front. His actions that day, and on countless others, broke the enemy and lifted his Marines through hell. Today, Cohen wears the silver eagle of a Colonel. The days of gripping a rifle in the dust are behind him, but the words he gave that morning still stalk the ranks of the Marine Corps. Young Marines—many who were just kids when he spoke them—still repeat those lines before their own battles. Because that speech wasn’t just for one fight—it was a battle standard. A reminder that fear dies when you refuse to give it space, and that no matter what stands in front of you, it’s never ten feet tall. Repeating him in his Mickey Goldmill voice, deep within the Hundu Kush Mountains of Afghanistan in 2005,
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