Roughly an hour later, the battalion packs up and loads the trucks. Nixon, dressed in full uniform, strolls outside absently, nose-deep in is letter. "Jesus Christ, the dog?" he moans. Winters strolls up behind him. "Cathy's divorcing me," Nixon spits. "She's taking everything -- taking the house, she's taking the kid, she's taking the dog. It's not even her dog! It's MY dog! SHE'S TAKING MY DOG!" screams Nixon, his tantrum mounting and culminating in an angry toss of the helmet. All the extras stop on cue and method-act that Winters is naked, and whisper their "peas and carrots" gibberish before strolling off-screen to update their résumés. Winters, as usual, does little but breathe a bit harder and don a concerned expression. Oh, but he does it very well.

Bull Randleman helps the men load bags onto the trucks. Speirs appears and asks Perconte for a lighter. "No, sir, I don't smoke," Perconte says. Bull asks where they're headed. "The Alps," Speirs answers. "Let me see that lighter." Reluctantly, Perconte hands it over; maybe he's scared to give Speirs anything for fear the man will ship it to England for his wife to pawn. Speirs fondles it. Webster makes a big show of realizing they're headed for Bavaria, "the birthplace of National Socialism." Methinks Webster wants a cookie. Speirs informs the men that Hitler ordered the Waffen S.S. to hole up in the mountains to repel invaders via guerilla warfare. Bull drawls that he likes the sound of that. Bull has gotten chunkier and more Southern since that tank almost killed him. Same old story. Speirs starts to walk away, forcing Perconte to yell after him to return the lighter. Speirs, cradling the thing in his palm, thinks at least four times about it before finally tossing it back to its rightful owner. "Nice lighter," he says, thoughtfully. Shaking his head, Perconte turns back to the assembled men in the truck. "Waffen S.S., huh?" he says, telling "O'Flannery" that he'll likely get his combat wish. "It's O'Keefe," the kid practically whispers.