Then, we're treated to a slow-motion softball game, lovingly filmed to show off the cast. Buck Compton throws off the catcher's mask and backs up to catch a pop-up, looking as strapping and sensational as ever. "Buck Compton came back to see the Company to let us know he was all right," Winters tells us. Compton became a prosecuting attorney in Los Angeles, famously convicting Sirhan Sirhan of the murder of Robert Kennedy. He later served on the California Court of Appeals. Webster became a writer for The Wall Street Journal and The Saturday Evening Post. And, incongruously, Winters chirps that Webster later wrote a book about sharks. Maybe that's deeply symbolic of his career in journalism. Apparently, though, Webster went out to sea alone in 1961 and never returned. That's incredibly sad; it makes me vaguely uneasy to know he wrote about sharks and then died on the cruel waters he probably studied. Gulp. Replacement Garcia swings -- uh, he put on a bit of weight in Austria, I think. He doesn't merit a mention here, sadly. Johnny Martin makes a catch, at which point we learn he returned to his job on the railroad, then started his own construction company and splits his residency between Arizona and Montana. Martin throws to Luz; Winters shares that George lived out his days as a handyman in Providence, Rhode Island. "As a testament to his character, 1600 people attended his funeral in 1998." Okay, that, coupled with the gorgeous shot of the actor, totally had my lip trembling. I'm not sure 1600 people even know that I'm alive.

Eugene Roe is up next, literally -- he's batting. After a life as a construction contracter, Roe died in Louisiana in 1998. Perconte returned to Chicago and "worked a postal route as a mailman," as though he could somehow work the postal route as a bagel chef, or a male prostitute. Perconte slides toward the base, but Liebgott merrily calls him out. I love Liebgott. I'm so, so glad he survived my recaps -- narrowly, but still successfully. He did indeed return to his cab company in San Francisco. Fortunately, he didn't embark upon a career as a baseball umpire, because Perconte was totally safe and everyone knows it. "Bull Randleman was one of the best soldiers I ever had," Winters chirps as the big man hulks up to the plate and swings a bat into position. His typical cigar stub dangles from his lips. "He went into the earth-moving business in Arkansas. He's still there." Yay! Anyone up for a road trip? Bull swings and we pretend he hit the ball. There's something incredibly moving about the modest post-war lives of men who performed with such extraordinary heroism during battle. Winters shares that Alton More returned home to Wyoming with a wicked souvenir -- Hitler's personal photo albums. Heh. I knew it. But he died in a 1958 car accident. "Talbert -- we all lost touch with in civilian life," Winters notes with regret. "Until he showed up at a reunion before his death in 1981." He exposits that everyone chose a unique path for himself -- like Donnie, who lived in North Carolina and became a glassmaking executive in charge of global factories. That's pretty cool, actually. Donnie applauds the game while wearing a tank top, which does fabulous things for his shoulders. I didn't know he was so...broad. "Harry Welsh!" Winters exclaims as we see the man beside Donnie. "He married Kitty Grogan and became an administrator for the Wilkes-Barre, Penn., school system." Ronald Speirs, we learn, stayed in the Army through Korea, then retired to Germany in 1958 to serve as governor of Spandau Prison. He was a lieutenant colonel. Buck smiles. I don't know why, but he's there, and he's grinning, and it warms my cynical heart.