D-Plus-25. Easy has advanced, and creeps toward an abandoned farmhouse for reasons unknown. But Nixon reassures us that "we need to know what's in there," and since he exists for plot exposition right now, we accept his words as truth. We absolutely must check out that calm and empty-looking house that is definitely crawling with gun-toting Germans. I know its job is to sniff out and snuff out the enemy, but Easy is starting to look like the buxom heroine who, while alone in the country with a killer on the loose, hears a noise in her darkened house and goes downstairs to investigate with nothing but a paper clip and a candle.
Welsh isn't sure who to send ahead as scouts, so Nixon tells him to ask for volunteers. "I hate asking for volunteers," Welsh grumbles. "Then pick them," an annoyed Nixon orders. Aw, Winters's two favorites are in a mini-spat. Look, boys, don't be cranky with each other. There's plenty of Winters to go around. Welsh sucks it up and asks for volunteers; Blithe, still trying to get a grip on the kernels of courage within, sticks up his hand. Welsh names him lead scout and picks Martin and Dukeman to follow. "Hubba hubba," Welsh says. I'm not kidding. What a bizarre motivational chant. Unless he just thinks Blithe has a pert ass.
Keeping low, the trio creeps toward the farmhouse. Nixon amusedly points to Welsh's satchel. "What exactly are you doing with your reserve chute?" Nixon grins. "You been hauling that thing around since we jumped?" Cut to the trio creeping. Cut back. Welsh sheepishly looks at the ground. It seems that he's saving it for when they return to England, when he'll send it to his fiancée so she can make a wedding dress. That's kind of cute! A little strange, perhaps, but a sweet thought. The trio approaches the house; now, we're back to Nixon. "Gee, Harry, I never would've guessed," he laughs. "What, that I'm so sentimental?" chuckles Welsh. Nixon replies, "No, that you think we're going to make it back to England." I feel like Nixon is going to die at some point during the next few weeks. It's just a hunch that I can't explain.
Ominous music heralds the scouting trio's final steps toward the farmhouse. It looks deserted; somehow, Blithe decides it's a good idea to move forward, and as he stands to give the order, a sniper zings a bullet through the private's neck. Welsh screams for covering fire as Martin and Dukeman drag Blithe to safety. He lies on the ground, unblinking, as Martin tries to comfort him. Winters stares sadly at the wounded man. "They're pulling us off the front lines," he whispers to Welsh, who is stunned. "To a fuel camp north of Utah Beach. Hot food and showers, and then back to England."