Speirs charges up to Dike and grabs his chest. "I'm taking over," he seethes. Donnie briefs him: Easy is spread out all over the place, and 1st platoon is stretched across Foy's flank and unable to move because of a deadly sniper. He also points out the caved-in roof under which the worst of the snipers lurks. Speirs needs one second to make a decision. "I want mortars and grenade launchers on that building until it's gone and when it's gone I want 1st platoon to go straight in forget going around everyone else follow me," he rapid-fires, completely eschewing implied punctuation because dammit, we don't have time for pauses where commas would be. Donnie relays these orders to the other platoons, one of which he is leading in Compton's absence. James Alley sets up the mortar gun and shells the fuck out of the building with the caved-in roof. "Come on, Luz, let's get the bastards!" shouts a soldier. Shells pepper the fields as Easy finally scurries toward Foy.

Donnie arrives in town and takes cover behind a wall. Peering out, he recoils when a sniper bullet dings off the wall and scrapes his cheek. Stunned, he looks up and then notices a whole mess of German infantrymen and their weaponry approaching. He frets that Item Company is nowhere to be found, and Easy must link with those men in order to successfully capture Foy. He's also nervous that Item will just pull back and leave Easy alone. Speirs sets his jaw, then makes a rash decision. Bolting away from cover, he sprints across the town in search of Item Company. Donnie gapes at this selfless act. "At first the Germans didn't shoot at him," he narrates. "I think they couldn't quite believe what they were seeing. But that wasn't the really astounding thing." From the smoke, Speirs suddenly emerges again. "The astounding thing was that after he hooked up with I Company, he came back," Donnie informs us. Speirs slow-motion runs toward the camera, and I swear Chariots of Fire should be playing in the background as a beaming smile breaks across Donnie's face. His hairline celebrates by inching forward a few centimeters.