Meanwhile, Hall bolts through the trenches and disappears from sight when an explosion rocks his portion of the trench.
Donnie crawls across the field on his stomach. Liebgott -- trust me on this one -- suddenly balks and sits up, anxious to turn around and head back to the battalion. As Donnie tries to talk him down, a bullet zips through Liebgott's helmet and fells him. Donnie cocks his head and stares curiously at the corpse of his former colleague, as if to say, "That'll sting tomorrow." Finally, he arrives at Gun One triumphantly waving TNT -- only to learn it's not needed anymore.
Running through the Gun Two trench, Winters screeches to a halt when he stumbles over Hall's body. His left cheek torn, cuts and scars slicing his features, Hall looks gruesome, but his eyes are wide open and clear. The breath rushes out of Winters for a split second, and Damian Lewis does an admirable job of conveying his stoic character's obvious distress, yet his keen awareness that he can't dwell on it until the objective is achieved. Abruptly, he shakes it off long enough to spy a map in the sheltered area and pocket the information.
Suddenly, reinforcements arrive from Dog Company, led by Lt. Speirs, who boldly asks for a chance to pop over to Gun Three and have a quick slay-and-capture. Winters and Compton wave him on just as Donnie arrives, panting and apologizing for his delay in getting to and through the trenches, now littered with bodies and debris. Brandishing the TNT once more, he's chagrined to see that Gun Two has also already been reduced to a hollow, smoking mess. Meanwhile, Compton watches and shakes his head as Lt. Speirs executes a sloppy attack on Gun Three, getting most of his Company killed but safely making it to the gun himself, and disabling it.
Or, we presume he does; suddenly, Winters is dashing through the trenches screaming for the men to move out and return to their original positions. As men pour over the walls and out of the trenches, Winters orders his soldiers back to the battalion. The group flees the scene amid a storm of gunfire; slowly, the noises of war diminish.
Corporal Strayer somberly walks beside Winters through the encampment, where wounded warriors meet up with their buddies and attempt treatment of their battle scars. The final tally, Winters reports, was that they killed roughly twenty German soldiers manning three MG-42s; he guesses forty remain, and predicts artillery would cleanly annihilate the Battery. Popeye passes on a stretcher, and Winters waves without smiling. The men stop short when a procession of tanks and armored vehicles arrives, with none other than Nixon riding on the lip of a tank. "Going my way?" he asks. Winters looks relieved, and compliments Nixon on his sweet ride; the tank takes off with Winters riding shotgun, leaving behind a dirt road bathed in blood.