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.
My roommate wanted to watch this show, but said he didn't have time to get involved in a good show. I had to point out that this isn't a good show, and here's why: the acting is super, and it sure looks slick and purty, but the content is lacking. I'm bored. The mini-series is a lovely complement to the book, but it can't stand alone. Moments of brilliance are too few; they'll solve one problem but create another. For instance, each show identifies more clearly the soldiers, but the initial efforts to explain how Easy's activities fit the grander scheme have fallen aside. This episode is a perfect example of that: it hasn't established the purpose of this mission Winters is recounting, so we're not sure how it fits or where they're going, or why, or on whose orders. It's frustrating to see so many good ingredients but a sub-par product; it's like Hanks and Spielberg shopped at the nicest markets in the world, baked a cake from the best, most costly recipe, but then let the cake burn to a crisp in the oven.
"Fix bayonets!" Winters screams. Perconte and Randleman oblige. So does Liebgott, who winks at me to prove his continued vitality. Replacement Garcia readies his weapon, looking like a seasoned soldier with the gritty determination in his face. Or maybe that's actual grit. Winters tosses a can of red smoke into the field, then takes off across the field. Alone. Not sure how this fits into his "I'll take ten men up the middle" plan. Everyone wants to run after him, but Talbert holds them back until the air starts to fill with red smoke from the hissing canister. Under this extremely dubious cover ("Oi, Helmut, vat is zat suspicious bright redness in ze air?" "Relax, Gunther. Zat is just ze vapors that little wee bunnies kick up ven zey run. All is safe") Easy runs safely to a new position.