Winters speeds through the forest while Nixon, clad in suave sunglasses, rides shotgun and cradles a bottle of booze. The vehicle stops in front of a modest cottage that we learn is Hermann Goering's house. "We found it yesterday; had it on double guard ever since," Winters says. "I can vouch for that, sir," chirps an impossibly irrepressible O'Keefe. Winters teases him about being antsy to skip out on his responsibility. "No, there's just so much to see and do here, sir," O'Keefe bubbles innocently. He slaps a skeleton key into Winters's outstretched palm.
Leading Nixon down a flight of stairs, Winters unlocks an iron gate and flicks on the light. Nixon rips off his glasses and his face becomes the priceless embodiment of sheer, unadulterated astonishment. What he beholds is the largest wine cellar I've ever seen -- floor-to-ceiling racks of alcohol surrounding an iron tasting table that forms a three-quarter circle. "Ten thousand bottles of the world's finest liquor, wine, and champagne helped Easy Company mark the day the war in Europe came to an end," Winters narrates for us. In scene, he tells a stunned Nixon to help himself to anything he desires. Nixon can't even speak. This is his utopia. This is better than life in New Jersey with Winters. This is better than an orgy. Hell, this is better than college football! No, wait, I've gone too far there. Cheerfully, Winters instructs Nixon to have his pick, and then order each company to take a truckload back to camp. "We're headed for Austria in the morning," Winters exposits. "Don't feel you have to leave anything here for whoever comes next." O'Keefe is stunned that they're leaving. "Happy VE Day," Winters calls out, leaving. O'Keefe is completely confused. That's basically his lot in life -- utter confusion. "Victory in Europe," explains Nixon. He strolls across the hard floor, covered in parts with broken glass, and mumbles, "Happy VE Day." Staring up the length of the enormous liquor rack, Nixon lovingly grabs a bottle. "Instead of an aggressive combat unit, we became an occupation force, and no one wanted to leave Berchtesgaden," Winters narrates. "Until they saw Austria."
Cut to more absolutely breathtaking scenery. The battalion trucks peacefully drive past towns bathed in a golden glow, with majestic mountains poking above pristine valley lakes. Everything is clean, devoid of rubble, merry; even the villagers wave excited salutations. "Wonder if they'll make us run up those, or ski down them," Talbert jokes, recalling the Currahee days. Oh, and he's talking about the mountains, not the village women. It occurs to me that I should clarify that point. The men grin like heroes -- which they are, naturally -- and bask in the warm welcome they receive. "I think the war is over!" Malarkey cheers, looping his arms around two comrades' necks. Three shepherd girls wiggle their chests and coo.