The furrowed brow here shown belongs to Winters, who is at his desk, sitting.
Daybreak. Talbert tells Winters that the rest of 1st Platoon has arrived, and Gordon's toting a hefty gun. But enough about his trousers. Winters intently studies a grimy map, determining that the Germans are behind a solid roadway embankment and they're just in a small ditch. "They can outflank us along the dike and catch us here as soon as they figure it out," sighs Winters. But he figures that they have no choice in the matter, and must attack. Or they could adopt one of my patented techniques, which is to sprint like hell to the nearest tavern and clamp their mouths around a keg tap. Winters, being a stickler for honor and duty and courage, and all those pesky qualities, formulates a plan: Talbert takes ten men to the dike, Peacock takes ten along the left flank, and Winters takes ten up the middle. Everyone scatters.
Mid-brow-furrow, a knock at the door interrupts Winters. Nixon saunters up the stairs and dangles his empty flask from one hand, his facial expression conveying exactly why he's there. Rolling his eyes, Winters crosses to his foot locker and opens it, inviting Nixon to it with an exaggerated gesture. "I don't know why I'm still doing this," Nixon says cheerfully. Winter, back at his desk, looks up. "Drinking?" he asks. "No, hiding it in your foot locker," Nixon replies, filling his flask. "I'm a captain, for chrissake." Winters: "Why don't you just give it up?" Nixon: "Drinking?" Winters: "No, hiding it in my foot locker. You're a captain, for pete's sake." Nixon smirks. "Maybe you're right. Maybe this is the perfect place to stop drinking -- right here on the business end of an Allied advance," he says, pausing for a second before holding aloft his flask with a wry smile: "Cheers." Winters laughs. Look, they're opposites, but they're still friends! That Paula Abdul is one smart woman -- she sang about this. As Nixon replaces the bottle, he notices Winters's complete focus on finishing his report. "That's not lit," he offers helpfully. "Keep it simple. Try writing in the first person plural. Say 'we' a lot." Winters retorts, "Thanks for the tip," but with affectionate annoyance.