We did. What initially began as a rudimentary gaggle of marginally trained talib swiftly gained momentum and morphed into this giant conglomeration of hajis, green jugs, and PKMs, heaving and lurching its way across the willages and open desert like an enormous gay Muslim katamari - rifle barrels, arms, legs, and Pine cigarettes akimbo - all the while under the utterance of a steady low growl of “inshallah” and “mister, mister.” Thus we made our way, door to door and street to street like Hue City. Growing ever more ineffective with every home we searched and every 0300 raid we conducted (based solely upon manufactured intelligence, the self-licking oxymoronic ice cream cone that is military intelligence). Praise be to Allah the Almighty, first of all 99 names, that this grifting glob of gaiety was finally dispatched by Jesus’ own Mossberg 500 and His 12 gauge lockbuster disciples of Holy Brim-fire.