Strayer grabs Winters and demands his signature on the Market-Garden report; he also needs other battalion paperwork from him. Winters promises them by 1300, as well as a banal inventory of material that the British 43rd division left behind. Winters assents again. Col. Sink shouts out that he wants to give out citations for the Oct. 5 action Easy saw, and he can't do it unless Winters files a report. "Light a fire under it, Dick," he orders. Looking devastated to be away from the action, Winters leaves. Aw. Someone needs a cuddle.
In his office, Winters types slowly, as though the infernal letter-application machine is alien to him. He begins typing a report of the Oct. 5 mission, as promised, and his musing takes us back to the time.
In a wooden building, the lads are discussing where they are, and doing a mighty lousy job of it. All I can glean is that they're inside a wooden building, having a discussion. Talbert strolls over to Winters and smirks that the replacements are learning the ropes. They banter about a dog. They dance the polka and play freeze tag. I don't know. Suddenly, someone screams, "Penetration!" and we hear gunfire. A surprise attack outside has wounded Pvt. Alley, and the confused and scared men are pointing fingers, trying to blame it on Boyle's loud voice or Liebgott's incessant...liebgotting. Pvt. Alley is dragged inside, blood crusting the entire left side of his body. Someone blathers that they're at a crossroads, where a street crosses a Dutch dike. The Germans are defending the dike. Winters screams for everyone to gather all the ammo they can, while they wait for Eugene Roe -- the medic -- to arrive and tend to Alley. Back in his office, Winters types that an enemy grenade caught Alley and got Easy Company moving.
Winters has a squad from 1st Platoon with him, running through a ditch. They're trying to pinpoint enemy fire, but when an MG-42 fires near their location, the men dive to the ground. "They're shooting down the road at regimental headquarters. But that's three miles away," Winters says. "Why are they giving away their position?" Talbert doesn't know, not being clairvoyant or on the enemy side, or even awake. Winters tells him to await his signal; the word passes down the line that everyone is to hold his position until further notice. Leaping over a high bank, Winters slides down a slope, bolts across a dirt road, scales a fence, and hides again. This gives him a different vantage point, whereby he can see the German soldiers. Darting back over the fence and across the dirt road, Winters pokes his head over the grassy hill and signals to Talbert; looks like they're supposed to run across the field, pirouette three times, draw the Germans offside, and then thrust ahead to find the G-spot. Talbert nods, then gives the signal; the squad scampers over the hill, across the dirt road and over the fence. Now, everyone's with Winters. Phew. I'm out of breath.