Several unidentifiable men get hurt: one is shot in the knee, others are shot while firing from the hedgerow; another takes a bullet to the throat, and yet another takes one in the chest. Medics run around trying to tend to all the wounds, but it's hard to get concerned when we don't have anything invested in any of the injured men. They're just extras.
To the delight of Easy, Sherman tanks appear over the hill and start decimating the German side. "Well, hello 2nd Armored," cheers a man we should probably recognize, but whose face is obscured by binoculars. Whose decision was that? Lord, this show is driving me to drink. Well, okay, I was already there, but this show definitely bought me a few shots. Easy begins to celebrate, firing with renewed vigor at the urging of Winters, Welsh, and even young Perconte. Out in the field, Malarkey sighs, "About damn time!" and Winters shouts, "Let's go, pour it on! Let 'em have it!" The American tanks run wild, blasting the hell out of the enemy and even crushing one soldier under its treads. We hear the gruesome crunchy pop of an exploding skull, and I'm sort of surprised Spielberg and his realism fetish didn't result in viewers getting treated to a grisly shot of his remains. Maybe Stevie slept through this episode.
As things wind down, Blithe spies a pack of Germans fleeing the scene. But I reckon they'll be back. Easy should act with extreme caution if they see a giant wooden bunny on the outskirts of town tonight. Blithe, of course, knows the devils of the Trojan Bunny, so he takes aim and wills one of the men to run within his sights. There is total silence as Blithe focuses, shoots, and hits the man in the abdomen. As the man doubles over and sways, a tank drives past; once it's gone, so is the wounded man. A lone helmet rolls from the vicinity and out into the battlefield. Liebgott offers Welsh a smoke, because it was good for him, too. Back to Blithe, who collapses against the side of his foxhole with a huge sigh. Someone from the 2nd Armored trots over to check on him. "Looks like you fellas had a helluva fight!" Pvt. Cheerful calls out. Blithe staggers to his feet, stares at Cheerful for a second, then proceeds dazedly across the knoll.
The grass is littered with blood puddles. Blithe reaches the corpse of a man who died with his eyes open, and the private stares into them for a second before pilfering an Edelweiss blossom from the dead Nazi's lapel. Affixing it to his own uniform, Blithe zzzZZZZzzz. Whaaa? Oh, shoot. I nodded off. Is Winters naked? No? Dang.