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Dataset card Data Studio Files
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Makes you feel small, doesn't it?
It doesn't take this.
A couple of weeks. It started in Portsmouth when they brought us down for loading.
Is it getting worse?
No. It comes and goes. It stops when I look at it.
You may have to find yourself a new line of work, this one doesn't seem to agree with you anymore.
I'll be alright.
Yeah? What rule of thumb is that?
How about I go right, sir?
How about you take your position?
How about...?
How about you shut up and take your position?
HOLD YOUR FIRE!
Rolls to his feet. FIRE another BURST. KILLS the last of the German riflemen. Doesn't pause. RUNS onto the field.
Pulls Wade's hands from the wound. Pours sulfa powder.
About to pour his sulfa. Sees the wound. Stops. Knows it's fatal.
SHOVES THE NEEDLE into Wade's neck. Thick vein. Pumps the morphine straight to Wade's brain. Motions impatiently to Sarge.
More morphine, hurry up, come on, come on...
Hesitates. Then drops his sulfa. Fumbles in his pack. Finds the morphine.
Snatches the morphine from Sarge. Quickly and efficiently prepares a second shot. He's done this before.
You alright?
Let's just find someplace.
What was the name of that kid at Anzio, the one who got his face burned off?
Vecchio.
Yeah, Vecchio, I couldn't remember his name, he was a good kid, remember how he used to walk on his hands and sing that song about the man on flying trapeze?
Yeah.
You know why I'm such a good officer? Because of my mother. Have I ever told you about her?
Bits and pieces.
She's the best poker player you ever saw. My father used to go to these Saturday night games and lose his shirt. Finally, my mother gave him an ultimatum, either she gets a regular seat at the table or she locks him in every Saturday night. He squawked and so did his buddies but after a while they gave in and from the first night she sat down, she never lost. She could read those cocky bastards like they were playing open hands. And he bluffs? He had sixteen levels of bullshit. Her eyes, the tone of her voice, her bets, her jokes, the way she sipped her coffee, she was a master. She won more money on shit hands than anyone in the history of the game. Every Saturday night, my father would lose two, three hundred bucks and she'd win it all back and then some. And I'd stand there, glued to her shoulder, from the time I was five years old, watching every hand, every move, studying how she did it. That's why I'm such a good officer, I can look at a man's face and tell you exactly what he's holding, and if it's a shit hand, I know just what cards to deal him.
And what about your own hand?
No problem. A pair of deuces? Less? So what? I bluff. It used to tear me apart when I'd get one of my men killed, but what was I supposed to do? Break down in front of the ones who were standing there waiting for me to tell them what to do? Of course not, so I bluffed, and after a while, I started to fall for my own bluff. It was great, it made everything so much easier. Sarge Is that why your hand's been shaking?
It could be worse. You know the first thing they teach you at O.C.S.? Lie to your men.
Oh, yeah?
Not in so many words, but they tell you you can have all the firepower in the world and if your men don't have good morale, it's not worth a damn. So if you're scared or empty or halfastep from a Section Eight, do you tell your men? Of course not. You bluff, you lie.
And how do you bluff yourself?
Simple, numbers. Every time you kill one of your men, you tell yourself you just saved the lives of two, three, ten, a hundred others. We lost, what, thirtyone on the cliffs? I'll bet we saved ten times that number by putting out those guns. That's over three hundred men. Maybe five hundred. A thousand. Then thousand. Any number you want. See? It's simple. It lets you always choose mission over men.
Except this time, the mission IS a man.
That's the rub. I liked Wade. Who's Ryan? If they're both standing in front of me and I have to shoot one or the other, how do I choose? Look at my hand, there it goes again.
John, I've got to tell you, I think you're about used up.
I think you're right, Keith.
You want me to take over?
No, but if I get any worse, you'll have to relieve me.
Just what I want to do.
You know Wade was the eleventh of the twelve, you're the last one still alive.
I know.
Don't let yourself get killed, if you do, they might make me give back the medal and then I won't be able to lip off to colonels anymore.
I'll do my best.
Thanks for drawing that machine gun off me.
You're welcome, John.
But, that's my personal brand of stupidity, I feel kind of proprietary about it, if you do it again, you're busted.
Sarge, see what you can do to make those buildings inhospitable.
Yes, sir.
What do you think?
Well, if we had ten times the men and a lot more ammo, we might stand a chance, but not against those tanks.
What are we going to do?
We're going to hope like hell the tanks were on their way somewhere else.
Uh, oh.
Out of the mouth of babes.
Reiben, I don't know what I'd do without you. Sarge, keep Ryan close to you and alive.
Yes, sir.
I know about bracketing. I read about it. The next one is going to land right on us.
FORWARD! FORWARD! NOW REVERSE!
You can tell all that, just by the sound, sire?
That's not all. There were nine gunners on the eightyeights, one had a broken heel on his boot, two had bratwurst for supper last night, one of them is named Fritz, the other, Hans, maybe, I don't know, it's hard to tell.
Glad of it.
On the other side of the street, crouches in a doorway with Jackson. Upham is a bit in shock, less from the nearness of the bullets than from what Miller just did for him.
DASHES across the street.
Sir, I'm sorry about what happened, I...
It was nothing.
But you could have gotten killed and I...
Like I said, it was nothing. Don't bunch up.
Upham?
Pass.
Sarge?
I wasn't made for this.
You think the rest of us were?
It looks like a Renoir.
Yes. Do you know Sibelius' Fourth Symphony, The Normandy?
I've been humming it.
I heard.
It seemed appropriate.
You know classical music?
Some.
Where are you from, Captain?
Over threehundred.
I'll tell you what, if I'm still alive when it hits fivehundred, I'll let you know and we'll split the money.
If that's the way you feel, why don't we wait until it's up to a thousand.
I don't expect to live that long.
Five nights ago, he found this paratrooper caught in a tree with a broken leg. The leg got infected. Last night he went to Ville Cholet to get a doctor. The doctor refused to come and when he got back, this is what he found. The Krauts must have shown up while he was gone.
Did he see any sign of them?
No, but he heard firing, just east, less that a kilometer.
Thank him and tell him we're sorry about his loss.
What is it?
A machine gun.
Good luck, Captain.
Don't need it, I'm a cat, I've got five lives.
The men said, nine.
What do they know? I had nine, but I feel through the ice when I was seven, my brother pulled me out. Then I used one when a grenade landed in my foxhole in Sicily, it was a dud. I figure one on the beaches, one on the cliffs and two getting here.
That only leaves three.
Plenty.