In 1986, in El Paso, one of my soldiers came to me and said, "Chief, my wife has locked me out of the house. I spent the night in the shop. Please come with me to the house. My wife likes you, maybe you can convince her to let me back in." I had my strong doubts about that, but he was a good worker. So over in the low rent district we went. As we pulled up, I noticed about 9-10 cars with license plates from Mexico on them, parked up and down the street. There was a swarm of people pawing through a mountain of crap, in the driveway of this young mans house. I looked over at him and said, "We may be a little late." Later that day, I got him installed in the barracks, and loaned him some money for 3 sets of new BDU's.
"Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor Hell a fury like a woman scorned"
William Congreve's 'The Mourning Bride' (1697).
No truer words have been written since this was penned.