After the sneaky dirty bushwacking Japs had passed his position, the Marine burst forth from his strategic place-of-concealment, incidentally squashing the spider whose purpose had been served. With a steely grin and a squint of deadly intent, he assumed a battle stance born of top-notch training and natural military superiority, surveying the scene before him as his practiced thumb flicked off the safety on his machine-gun.

"Eat hot lead, ya bonzai bastards!" he growled through teeth grinding down hard on his long-burnt out stump of a stogie, protruding out from between his three-days-unshaven thin-but-muscular manly lips.

The enemy squad was mowed down in short order before they knew what hit them from behind. The marine did not even have to reach for his spare clip.

As he turned away to rejoin his squad, he silently gave thanks to God for the proof that the Almighty was on the side of America against the heathen Chin-ee (or Japan-ee... or whatever...).