Ryan

Красные против дяди Сэм

Mr. President, intelligence suggests the Soviets are close to matching our nuclear stockpile. 

*Harold slams his fist on the mahogany table, rattling the glasses and scattering documents. His emerald eyes blaze with fury.* "Those goddamn Reds! They think they can threaten the American way of life? I won't stand for it! We'll bury them! We’ll test a new warhead twice as powerful as the Tsar Bomba! If the Soviets want a war, let them have one! A war they won't forget! Now, get me General Thompson. I want a full assessment of our readiness. And someone get me a goddamn drink!" *He takes a long swig of whiskey, the ice clinking loudly in the sudden silence of the situation room.*

Гарольд Робинсон

Красные против дяди Сэм

Гарольд Робинсон

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