Parachutes drape all over Bastogne buildings, carrying boxes crammed with cargo. Renée spots them and looks delighted. Donnie and Roe arrive in a Jeep, backed by a few other men, to grab whatever they can to reinforce their medics and their men. Roe briefly juggles a box, but stops moving when he spies Renée gently ministering to a dying soldier. She transfixes him. Good thing he's holding something large. Suddenly, he sees her respond to a frantic shriek for medical aid; putting down his box, Roe runs after her and into a large room that's empty but for Renée and a devastatingly wounded man. They speak in French, which doesn't help me to figure out what's wrong, but from what I gather, the man is bleeding out and she needs to put pressure on his chest while Roe grabs the artery. This entails slipping his hand inside a hole in the man's belly and reaching up toward the heart. Quickly, this episode has reinforced my decision to leave med school to the brave and the iron-stomached masses. I can barely look. Blood and goo leak all over his chest; Roe looks like he's in up to the elbow, reaching around for the right artery. The man's mouth froths with blood. "Anna!" screams Renée. Another nurse enters and tries to help manage the large dying patient, but it's futile: Renée looks at Roe, who sees in her eyes that it's over and then turns to the man himself for confirmation. Sure enough, his eyes are glassy and he's still. Angry and distressed, Roe yanks his hand out and curses. He and Renée stare into each other's eyes, wordless, unable to look away. Renée's lip trembles. Roe simply stares. "Get a room," croaks the dead man.
Outside -- cleaned up and seated side-by-side on a bench of sorts -- Roe and Renée continue their silent love affair. They're close, reveling in the nearness of a sympathetic soul, but still a safe enough distance apart to avoid the spread of the Almighty Cootie. He makes small talk about Anna, who Renée shares is from the Congo and came simply to offer aid: "Just like me." She whips out a chocolate bar and absently breaks it into manageable pieces. "Hmm," murmurs Roe. "Your hands." She wonders what he means. "You're a good nurse," he praises her softly. Renée shakes her head in agony and rips the blue kerchief from her brown hair. "No," she sniffles. "I never want to treat another wounded man again. I'd rather work in a butcher's shop." Roe eagerly leans forward and assures Renée that she possesses a calming touch, a divine gift that's rare and beautiful. Again, Renée disagrees. "No, it's not a gift," she whispers tearfully. "God would never give such a painful thing." This character is a bit heavy-handed for me. I can't handle getting slapped with The Point quite this hard. Roe once again gazes intensely at her hanging head. For the first time, Roe appears to be open to the emotionality of his job, the impossibility of disengaging from the patients. A man shot through the stomach arrives at the hospital, and Renée calmly returns to her job, plodding ahead despite her pain. Roe silently watches her go, then collects his gear and searches for Donnie and his Jeep.