Be seated. 

Qarmy is a team. It lives, eats, sleeps, and fights as a team. This namefagging stuff is bullshit. The bilious bastards who write that stuff for the New York Times don't know any more about real information warfare than they do about fucking. We have the best team—we have the Covfefe and equipment, the best spirit and the best anons in the world. Why, by God, I actually pity these poor bastards we're going up against. 

All the real heroes are not storybook autists. Every single anon in the army plays a vital role. So don't ever let up. Don't ever think that your job is unimportant. What if every meme farmer decided that he didn't like the whine of the shills and turned yellow and jumped headlong into a ditch? That cowardly bastard could say to himself, 'Hell, they won't miss me, just one anon in thousands.' What if every anon said that? Where in the hell would we be then? No, thank God, anons don't say that. Every anon does his job. Every anon is important. The autists are needed to supply the digs, the bakers are needed to bake the the bread for us because where we are going there isn't a hell of a lot of truth spoken. Every last damn anon in the kitchen, even the one who shitposts memes to keep the bread from getting to dark, has a job to do. 

One of the bravest anons I saw in the Mossad Massacre was on an RBG dig in the midst of furious fire while we were moving toward on Tel Aviv. I stopped and asked him what the hell he was doing down there. He answered, 'Digging on her medical condition, sir.' 'Isn't it a little boring down there right now?' I asked. 'Yes sir, but this goddamn dig has got to be dug.' I asked, 'Don't those kikes shitting up the bread bother you?' And he answered, 'No sir, but you sure as hell do.' Now, there was a real anon. A real man. A man who devoted all he had to his duty, no matter how great the odds, no matter how seemingly insignificant his duty appeared at the time.  

Sure, we all want DECLAS and arrests. We want to get this war over with. But you can't win a war lying down. The quickest way to get it over with is to get the bastards who started it. We want to get the hell in there and clean the goddamn thing up, and then get at those purple-pissing Rothschilds. The quicker they are whipped, the quicker we go home. The shortest way home is through Berlin and Brussels. So keep moving. And when we get to Rome, I am personally going to shoot that kiddie-diddling son-of-a-bitch Pope. 

Some of you anons are wondering whether or not you'll chicken out under fire. Don't worry about it. I can assure you that you'll all do your duty. Information warfare is a bloody business. The Clowns are the enemy. Wade into them, spill their secrets or they will spill yours. Kick them in the balls. Expose their true net worths.

I don't want any messages saying 'I'm holding my position.' We're not holding a goddamned thing. We're advancing constantly and we're not interested in holding anything except the enemy's balls. We're going to hold him by his balls and we're going to kick him in the ass; twist his balls and kick the living shit out of him all the time. Our plan of operation is to advance and keep on advancing. We're going to go through the enemy like shit through a tinhorn. 

Don't forget, you don't know I'm here at all. No word of that fact is to be mentioned on twatter. The world is not supposed to know what the hell they did with me. I'm not supposed to be commanding this army. I'm not even supposed to be on the Internets. Let the first bastards to find out be the goddamned Clowns. Some day, I want them to rise up on their piss-soaked hind legs and howl 'Ach! It's the goddamned QArmy and that son-of-a-bitch Pepe again!' 

Then there's one thing you anons will be able to say when this war is over and you get back home. Thirty years from now when you're sitting by your fireside with your grandson on your knee and he asks, 'What did you do in the Great Awakening?' You won't have to cough and say, 'Well, your granddaddy followed THOTS on Instagram.' No sir, you can look him straight in the eye and say 'Son, your granddaddy rode with the great QArmy and a son-of-a-goddamned-bitch named Pepe!' 

All right, you sons of bitches. You know how I feel. I'll be proud to lead you wonderful anons in battle anytime, anywhere. That's all.

>>4960947

Ft Knox, up until the late 90's was also the Armor Center where all tankers and scouts were trained. Then under Shinseke all Armor training was shifted to Ft Benning.

When there was gold in the vault, one battalion of Armor (or one squadron of Armored Cav) was tasked with 24hr Vault alert in addition to the civilian security force at the vault itself. This ended when there were no more heavy forces left on Ft Knox. What does that tell you?