"We were in a store, and a guy in that store told us to put our uniforms on." ""What the hell are you talking about?"" "He says, "The U.S.A's in a war with Japan."" "We couldn't believe it." "Our country was attacked." "It's a different—" "It wasn't like Korea or Vietnam." "We was attacked." "And, you know, it was a feeling of..." "Maybe we're just dumb country people where I come from... but a lot of us volunteered." ""Who would like to volunteer for the Tank Corps?" "For the Air Force?" "For the Navy?" Or whatever." "Then they said, "Who would volunteer for the Airborne?"" "So I says, "What the hell's the Airborne?"" "We came from a small, small town... and three fellows in that town that were 4-F committed suicide." "Because they couldn't go." "A different time." "I did things." "I didn't do them for medals or accolades." "I did them because they..." "It's what had to be done." "The guy says, "You jump out of airplanes to fight the enemy."" "These guys said, "Go to hell." Nobody put up their hands." "And I don't know what brought it up... but the guy speaking said, "You get paid $50 a month more."" "So that made it 100 bucks." "Okay, boys, let's get this gear stowed." "Fox Company, we go in five." "–Sergeant Maynard?" "–Nope." "In the name of the Father and the Son... 1st Platoon, draw small arms." "It'll be too late when you face the enemy." "Easy Company!" "Listen up!" "Gather up around me!" "Move it up!" "Come on!" "Let's go!" "The Channel coast is socked in with rain and fog." "High winds on the drop zone." "No jump tonight." "The invasion has been postponed." "We're on a 24-hour stand-down." "–Drill sergeants, take charge." "–1st Platoon..." "Well, this is quite a surprise." "Not particularly." "It so happens I rather expected it." "Well, I can't see how you people can pass up $80·000 for the cause." "For whose cause?" "If you're so interested in serving a cause, why don't you join the Army?" "–I'm 4-F." "–You look 1-A to me." "You don't look so bad yourself." "Well, it's my arteries." "Should you be giving blood?" "I think it's clearing up." "Think it's clearing up?" "Nope." "I think it's clearing up." "–How are your men?" "–They'll be fine." "Five o'clock in New York." "Four o'clock in Chicago." "–Happy hour, huh?" "–Yeah, happy hour." "A couple of drinks." "Maybe an early dinner before the theater." "Civilized place for civilized men." "Should have been born earlier, Nix." "What, and give up all this?" "We'll go to Chicago." "I'll take you there." "Yeah." "We'll see." "–Actually, you know who's from there?" "–Who?" "Oh, him." "712 days with that son of a bitch and here we are." "You people are at the position of attention!" "Pvt. Perconte, did you blouse your trousers like a paratrooper?" "–No, sir." "–Then explain the creases." "–No excuse, sir." "–Volunteering is one thing." "You've got a long way to prove you belong." "Your weekend pass is revoked." "–Name." "–Luz, George." "Dirt in the rear sight aperture." "Pass revoked." "When did you sew on the chevron?" "Yesterday, sir." "Long enough to notice this." "Revoked." "Sir." "–Name." "–Malarkey, Donald G." "–Isn't "malarkey" slang for bullshit?" "–Yes, sir." "Rust on the butt plate hinge spring, Pvt. Bullshit." "Revoked." "–Name." "–Liebgott, Joseph D, sir." "Rusty bayonet, Liebgott." "You wanna kill Germans?" "–Yes, sir." "–Not with this." "I wouldn't take this rusty piece of shit to war... and I will not take you in your condition." "Thanks to these men and their infractions, every man... who had a weekend pass has lost it." "Change into your PT gear." "We're running Currahee." "2nd Platoon, fall out." "We have two minutes." "I ain't going up that hill." "Perconte, what are you thinking of, blousing your pants?" "–Shut up." "He gigged everybody." "–Don't give him no excuses." "Excuses?" "Look at these trousers and tell me if there's a crease on them." "Let's go." "On the road, in PT formation." "Let's move." "Perconte." "Let's go, Perconte." "Pvt. White, why are you not in your PT gear?" "I asked you a question, private." "Easy Company." "While you run, we'll take your dames to the movies." "Good, they need some female company." "–Where do we run?" "–Currahee!" "–What's Currahee mean?" "–"We stand alone!"" "–How far up?" "How far down?" "–Three miles up, three down!" "–What company is this?" "–Easy Company!" "–And what do we do?" "–Stand alone!" "Do not help that man!" "Do not help that man!" "Do not stop!" "You have 13 minutes to get to the top of this mountain... if you want to serve in the paratroopers." "Hi-yo, Silver!" "Come on." "You can make it." "Come on, Alley." "Come on, Guarnere." "You got it!" "Come on!" "Never thought I'd see the day, Private Wynn." "We are coming on 23 minutes." "That may be good enough for the rest of the 506... but that is not good enough for Easy Company!" "We can do this!" "Come on!" "Come on." "Come on." "I'm gonna say something." "To who?" "Lt Winters." "–What is it?" "–Permission to speak, sir." "–Permission granted." "–Sir, we've got nine companies, sir." "We do." "Why are we the only one marching every Friday, 12 miles, in the pitch dark?" "–Why do you think, Pvt. Randleman?" "–Lt Sobel hates us, sir." "Lt Sobel does not hate Easy Company, Pvt. Randleman." "He just hates you." "Thank you, sir." "–He hates him back." "–He hates you too, Muck." "Lt Winters, I want canteens out, caps unscrewed." "Canteens out and open." "They will pour the contents onto the ground." "You will upend your canteen." "–Now, lieutenant." "–Pour them!" "Who is this?" "Christenson!" "Why is there no water in your canteen?" "You drank from your canteen?" "–Lt Winters!" "–Yes, sir." "Was this man ordered to not drink from his canteen?" "–He was, sir." "–You disobeyed a direct order." "You will fill your canteen and repeat all 12 miles of the march." "–Yes, sir." "–Fall out!" "What are you doing with my company?" "You're late and you allow troopers to disobey orders?" "No excuse, sir." "You're making me look bad." "This is not Dog Company." "This is not Fox Company." "This is Easy Company." "Under my command, this will be the first and finest company." "I want the names of six men... their infractions and your disciplinary recommendations by 0130." "Is that clear?" "What infractions, sir?" "Find some." "So, what did you do?" "Picked six men and gave them latrine duty." "The lucky six?" "McDonald, Toye, Perconte, Lipton, Muck and Guarnere." "–Why them?" "–It was their turn." "Sobel's a genius." "I had a headmaster like him in school." "I know the type." "Lewis, Michelangelo's a genius." "Beethoven's a genius." "You know a man who wouldn't double-time Currahee... just to piss in that guy's morning coffee?" "Let's go, let's go." "–Go!" "–1000, 2000, 3000, 4000..." "Stand in the door." "–Go!" "–1000, 2000..." "You just broke both your legs, Gordon." "–Are you trying to get killed?" "–No, sir!" "Stand in the door." "Shit." "To the wall!" "Over as a team." "Come on, against the wall!" "Jesus, what the hell is this?" "That's pig guts, boy." "Goddamn it." "–Why are you here?" "–To be in the Airborne." "–I don't believe you." "Why?" "–To be in the Airborne." "You have 50 minutes to the top and back, and I will be watching you." "What are you waiting for?" "Easy Company has the best performance record in the 2nd Battalion." "I believe every bit of that is thanks to you." "–Congratulations, Captain Sobel." "–Thank you, sir." "Isn't that Lt Winters leading Easy Company in PT?" "Yes, sir." "He's a good man." "I was planning on giving him these today." "Why don't you do it?" "He'd be proud to get them from you." "Pornography, contraband." "Non-regulation clothing, contraband." "This man had 200 prophylactic kits in his footlocker." "How in the name of God was he gonna have the strength to fight the war?" "How is it Pvt. Tipper has spare time for so much correspondence?" "Captain, are personal letters to be considered contraband?" "These men aren't paratroopers yet." "They have no personal property." "What is this?" "Anybody." "It's a can of peaches." "Lt Nixon thinks this is a can of peaches." "That is incorrect." "Your weekend pass is cancelled." "This is United States Army property... which was taken without authorization from my mess facility." "And I will not tolerate thievery in my unit." "Whose footlocker is this?" "Private Parks', sir." "Get rid of him." "All weekend passes are cancelled, officers included." "Carry on." "Lt Winters." "Colonel Sink has seen fit to promote you." "As first lieutenant, you'll serve as my executive officer." "–Congratulations." "–Thank you, sir." "And as a test of your organizational skills and command potential..." "I am designating you mess officer for 14 days." "Report to the mess kitchen at 0515 hours." "Company breakfast to be served at 0600." "Yes, sir." "And, Dick, there's rain forecast tomorrow." "The company will have a light afternoon of lecture and classroom instruction." "A special meal before their afternoon off would be a welcome change of pace." "–Would you agree?" "–Yes, sir." "I like spaghetti." "Hold on, more coming." "These guys are packing it away." "It's orange." "Spaghetti ain't supposed to be orange." "This ain't spaghetti." "It's Army noodles with ketchup." "You ain't gotta eat it." "As an Italian, you know calling this spaghetti is a mortal sin." "–I'll eat it." "–I'm eating!" "Get out of here!" "Orders changed!" "Get up!" "Lectures are cancelled!" "Easy Company is running up Currahee!" "Move!" "Three miles up, three miles down." "Hi-yo, Silver!" "Let's go!" "Let's go!" "You're a washout, Pvt. Hoobler." "You should pack up and go home!" "Looks like Gordon's done." "Finished?" "You do not deserve to get your wings." "Pvt. Randleman, you look tired." "There's an ambulance waiting for you." "It can all be over, right now." "No more pain... no more Currahee, no more Captain Sobel." "–Are we ready to be Army paratroopers?" "–Yes, sergeant!" "I hope so." "This will be the first of five exits from a C-47 aircraft set for today." "Get ready!" "Stand up!" "Hook up!" "Upon completion of your final jump, you'll be certified paratroopers." "Check equipment!" "Sound off for equipment check!" "Nine okay!" "Eight okay!" "Seven okay!" "Six okay!" "Five okay!" "Four okay!" "Three okay!" "Two okay!" "One okay!" "There'll be many men jumping today, hopefully under deployed canopies." "Stand in the door!" "I guarantee you're gonna love it, lieutenant!" "Go!" "Go!" "Jumping from 1000 feet AGL, in sticks of 12 jumpers per aircraft." "You just have to remember what you were taught." "I guarantee gravity will take care of the rest." "Go!" "Go!" "Go!" "Damn it." "Gentlemen, rest assured, any refusals in the aircraft or at the door... and I guarantee you will be out of the Airborne." "Four okay!" "Three okay!" "Two okay!" "One okay!" "Stand in the door!" "Now!" "1000, 2000, 3000, 4000, 5000... 6000, 7000, 8000, 9000." "Yeah!" "Hi-yo, Silver!" "If you had style like me, somebody might mistake you for somebody." "You mean like your fucking sergeant?" "I'm just kidding." "–Congratulations, Martin." "–Cpl Toye." "There will be no leaning in my company." "Are those dusty jump wings?" "How will you slay the Huns with dust on your jump wings?" "Luz, just give me a drink." "Hell of an idea, Joe." "There you go." "Three miles up, three miles down." "Ten-hut!" "Well, at ease, paratroopers." "–Good evening, Easy Company." "–Evening, sir!" "Parachute Infantry is a new concept in military history." "But the 506 will forge that new concept into victory." "Yes, sir!" "I want you to know I'm damn proud of every one of you." "Now, you deserve this party." "–Thanks, Sgt Grant." "–Sir." "So I want you to have fun, and remember our motto:" "–Currahee!" "–Currahee!" "Petty!" "Map!" "Come on!" "Oh, Christ." "We're in the wrong position." "–We're in the wrong position." "–We're in position for ambush." "Let the enemy come into our killing zone." "They're right out there." "Let's get them." "–Sir, we have perfect cover here." "–Lieutenant, deploy your troops." "2nd Platoon, move out." "–What?" "–Tactical column." "You've just been killed, along with 95% of your company." "Your outfit?" "Easy Company, 2nd Battalion, 506." "Leave three wounded men on the ground and report back to the assembly area." "Goddamn it." "You." "You." "You." "What are you gonna do?" "Nothing, just keep training the men." "Am I interrupting?" "No, no." "Lt Lewis Nixon, Lt Harry Welsh, just in from the 82nd." "–Congratulations on the promotion." "–If you wanna call it that." "You'll learn him pretty quickly." "No flaws, vices or sense of humor." "Just like your chums up at Battalion Staff?" "–What's up?" "–I'm hearing a lot of rumblings." "Sobel?" "We were just talking about that." "So he gets a little jumpy in the field." "–He gets jumpy and you get killed." "–That's nice." "Listen, if we discuss it, it should be among ourselves." "Absolutely." "–2nd Platoon ready?" "–Ready, sir." "Then get them in formation." "We're moving out." "Yes, sir." "Goddamn, you gotta admit." "He's got no chance." "Either the Krauts will get him, or one of us." "Who?" "Sobel?" "He screwed up one maneuver." "I'm always fumbling with grenades." "It would be easy if one went off by accident." "They must have put him in charge for a reason." "Because the Army wouldn't make a mistake, right, Shift?" "–Going my way?" "–Where the train takes me." "–Where's that?" "–I haven't a clue." "Yeah, come on." "Take a guess." "Atlantic, Pacific." "Atlantic?" "I'm not the intelligence officer." "As such, I know, but if I told you, I'd have to kill you." "So don't tell me." "New York City." "Troop ship." "England." "We're invading Europe, my friend." "Fortress Europa." "Since when do I drink?" "If I thought you'd drink, I wouldn't offer it to you." "Nix, what are you gonna do when you get into combat?" "Oh, I have every confidence in my scrounging abilities." "And I have a case of Vat 69 hidden in your footlocker." "–Really?" "–Oh, yeah." "Morning." "This could turn into a real nice trip." "Dear Sir or Madam:" "Soon your son will drop from the sky to engage and defeat the enemy." "Your letters of love and encouragement will arm him with a fighting heart." "With that, he cannot fail but will win glory for himself, make you proud... and his country grateful for his service in its hour of need." "Signed Herbert M Sobel, Captain, Commanding." "Right now, some lucky bastard's headed for the South Pacific." "He'll get billeted on some tropical island." "Sitting under a tree with naked native girls... helping him cut up coconuts so he can hand-feed the flamingos." "–Flamingos are mean." "They bite." "–So do the naked native girls." "With any luck." "Guys, I'm glad I'm going to Europe." "Hitler gets this across the windpipe." "Roosevelt changes Thanksgiving to Joe Toye Day... and pays me $10·000 a year for the rest of my life." "What if they send us to North Africa?" "–My brother's there." "He says it's hot." "–It's hot in Africa?" "Shut up." "Point is, it don't matter where we go." "Once we get into combat, you trust only yourself and the man next to you." "–Long as he's a paratrooper." "–Yeah?" "What if that paratrooper turns out to be Sobel?" "If I'm next to Sobel, I'm moving down the line." "Hook up with another officer, like Heyliger or Winters." "I like Winters." "But when bullets fly, I don't want a Quaker fighting for me." "–How do you know that?" "–He ain't Catholic." "–Neither's Sobel." "–That prick's a son of Abraham." "–He's what?" "–He's a Jew." "Fuck." "–I'm a Jew." "–Congratulations." "Get your nose out of my face." "What's all that about?" "Gonorrhea called Sobel a Jew." "Liebgott took offense because he's a Jew too." "Fighting over Sobel." "That's smart." "Attack!" "No!" "You wanna kill him!" "Parry right!" "Parry left!" "Front!" "Recover." "Okay." "We talked about magnetic declination and the left-add, right-subtract rule." "Today we'll use it." "There are two basic fighting positions." "The first is a prepared position." "This position's advantages are that it gives you cover and concealment." "Commence fire!" "We'll maneuver through these trees." "At the same time, our 2nd Platoon, in this case, moves over here." "He'll then kill or capture that German." "Sobel's late." "Why is there a fence here?" "There should be no fence here." "Tipper!" "Give me the map." "Perconte." "Luz." "Get the men." "Get them ba—" "–Take cover behind those trees." "–All right." "Let's go." "Move it out." "There should— There should be no fence." "We could go over it, sir." "Really?" "That's not the point." "Where the goddamn—?" "Where the goddamn hell are we?" "–Perconte." "–Yeah?" "–Sobel's lost again, right?" "–Yeah." "–Fucking Christ." "–Hey, Luz?" "Can you do Major Horton?" "Does a wild bear crap in the woods, son?" "Maybe the major can goose this schmuck." "Get us moving?" "–No way." "I'm not gonna— –Oh, yes." "Luz, you gotta." "Come on." "All right, just this once." "356833." "Isn't that the intersection?" "No, sir, it's here." "You're a full grid off." "Goddamn it." "–Is there a problem, Captain Sobel?" "–Who said that?" "Who broke silence?" "I think it's Major Horton, sir." "Major Horton?" "What, is he—?" "Did he join us?" "Maybe he's moving between the platoons." "What is the goddamn holdup, Mr Sobel⁈" "A fence, sir, a— God!" "–A barbed-wire fence." "–Oh, that dog just ain't gonna hunt." "Shut up!" "Now, you cut that fence and get this goddamn platoon on the move!" "Yes, sir!" "–Where are my wire cutters?" "–Sir." "–We have to move." "–Without Sobel and 1st Platoon?" "It's a T-intersection." "We improvise." "Lay down fire to cut the road in all directions." "Go right with 1st Squad." "Tell 2nd to go left." "I'll be center with 3rd." "–Go." "–Yes, sir." "Dearie me." "Bloody hell." "You've done it now, Yanks." "You've captured me." "Hi-yo, Silver!" "Would that be the enemy?" "As a matter of fact, yes." "Good work, 2nd Platoon." "We took the objective." "Who was the idiot who cut that man's fence?" "–I was ordered to." "–By who?" "–Maj. Horton, sir." "–Maj. Horton?" "–Yes." "–He told you to do that?" "–Yes, sir." "–He ordered you to cut the fence?" "Yes, he did." "Major Horton is on leave in London." "Get those cows out of here." "Lt Winters." "With Capt. Sobel's compliments, sir." "Lieutenant." "–Oh, for crying out loud." "–Misspelled "court-martial"." "No, sir, I do not understand." "Your orders were to inspect latrines at 1000 hours." "From 0930 to 0955, I was censoring mail by order of Col. Strayer." "At 1000 hours, I followed your orders." "I changed that time to 0945." "–No one told me." "–I telephoned." "The family I'm with has no phone." "–And sent a runner." "–No runner found me." "When given a task to perform by a ranking officer... you should have delegated latrine inspection to another officer." "You failed to do so." "Were I to let this go unpunished, what kind of message is that to the men?" "–I performed my duty as I was ordered." "–And I disagree." "So your options are quite simple, lieutenant." "Punishment will be denial of a 48-hour pass for 60 days." "Stand before me at attention." "Or you may initiate an appeal and request a trial by court-martial." "You spend weekends on the base anyway." "Be a man." "Take the punishment." "May I borrow your pen, sir?" "My endorsement, sir." "I request trial by court-martial." "–We lost Winters to the mess." "–You're joking." "Strayer did it while he figures out the procedures for his court-martial." "–Nixon better get him out." "–And if he don't?" "Winters scrambles eggs while we make the big jump with Sobel." "Not me." "–We're going through with this, right?" "–We gotta do something." "–Yeah." "–Yeah." "All right." "Good." "–Let's be clear of the consequences." "–I don't care about the consequences." "We could be lined up against a wall and shot." "Now, I'm ready to face that." "And every one of us had better be too." "I will not follow that man into combat." "Me neither." "All right." "Then let's do it." ""I hereby..." ""no longer..." ""wish to serve..." ""as a non-commissioned officer... in Easy Company."" "All right, boys." "Good luck." "I ought to have you all shot!" "This is an act of mutiny while we prepare for the invasion of Europe." "–Sgt Harris?" "–Sir." "Turn in your stripes." "You are transferred out of my regiment." "–Sir." "–Get out." "–Sgt Ranney?" "–Sir." "You're lucky I'm only busting you to private." "All of you NCOs have disgraced the 101st Airborne." "You're lucky we're on the eve of the largest action in war history... which leaves me no choice but to spare your lives." "Now, get out of my office and out of my sight." "Get." "Keep them coming." "Thattaboy." "That's it." "I can only speculate." "Most men would never do this." "But I believe just a few of the sergeants may have felt... their loyalty lay more to the platoon than to the company." "And these few convinced the other NCOs to turn in their stripes?" "As staff sergeants, they have a great influence." "But the rest are good men." "I can work with them." "Winters' court-martial has been an unpleasant distraction." "Indeed it has, sir." "However, your command of Easy Company has been exemplary." "Thank you, sir." "In fact, except for the actions of a few of your non-coms... you fielded one of the finest companies of soldiers I've seen." "Yes, sir." "Division has established a parachute training school at Chilton Foliat." "The idea is for non-infantry types... vital to the invasion, such as doctors and chaplains... to take jump training there." "I can't think of anyone more qualified to command such a school than you." "Sir?" "I'm reassigning you to Chilton Foliat." "I'm losing Easy Company?" "The war effort needs you elsewhere." "–Permission to speak, sir." "–Granted." "Is—?" "Who will be replacing me?" "Lt Meehan from Baker Company is senior." "Good luck at Chilton Foliat, Herbert." "Don't let us down, now." "No, sir." "Carry on." "2nd Platoon, listen up." "I want the 1st Squad in A-side tents there." "3rd Squad, second row..." "Holy shit!" "No, it's all right." "We're Tommies, not Boche." "–Is all this real?" "–Yeah, yeah." "It's for you lads, so you can get your mince pies on some Jerry clobber." "–If you know what I mean." "–Not really." "You got a Luger?" "–I'm dying to hold a real Luger." "–Yeah, go on, then." "Quick butchers, yeah?" "–She's a doozy." "–That's pukka, isn't it?" "–What?" "–Eh?" "Hey, Petty!" "Hey, mate?" "You're having a bath if you think you're half-inching that." "Oh, yeah." "Sorry." "Well, good luck." "You too, mate." "What's up, Hoobs?" "These men have been through the Army's toughest training." "Under the worst circumstances." "And they volunteered for it." "I was just shooting craps with them—" "You know why they volunteered?" "So when things got bad, the man next to them would be the best." "–Not a draftee who'll get them killed." "–Are you mad because they like me?" "Because I'm getting to know my soldiers?" "You've been with these guys two years?" "I've been here for six days." "–You were gambling." "–So?" "Soldiers do that." "–I don't deserve a reprimand for it." "–What if you'd won?" "–What?" "–What if you'd won?" "Never put yourself in a position where you can take from these men." "–Lt Meehan?" "–Enter." "On the last training jump..." "I had a compass." "Close the flap." "–Then we turned left." "–Yeah." "Bearing 0-4-2,12 minutes." "–Then another left." "–Yes." "Call it 3-5-8." "For 10½ minutes." "–Green light, right over Ramsbury." "–Ramsbury." "Every single time." "Linear distance on the grid of about..." "Okay." "Ramsbury." "Upottery." "So..." "It's Normandy." "Sainte-Marie-du-Mont." "Causeway number one." "Causeway number two." "The ultimate field problem." "The Douve River estuary divides two beachheads, code name Utah, here... and Omaha, here." "Seaborne Infantry will hit these beaches at a specified date and time." "H-Hour, D-Day." "Airborne's objective is to take the town of Carentan... linking Utah and Omaha into a continuous beachhead." "—linking Omaha and Utah into one continuous beachhead." "Each trooper will learn this operation and know his mission to the detail." "–Lt Meehan?" "–Yes, Dukeman." "–Are we dropping tonight?" "–We'll let you know." "In the meantime, study these sand tables, maps and recon photos... until you can draw a map by memory." "We'll drop behind this Atlantic Wall... five hours before the 4th Infantry lands at Utah." "Between our assembly area and the objective, there is a German garrison." "In this area, Sainte-Marie-du-Mont." "Easy Company will destroy that garrison." "Three-day supply of K rations, chocolate bars, powdered coffee... sugar, matches, compass, bayonet, ammunition... gas mask, musette bag with ammo, my webbing, my .45, canteen... cartons of smokes, Hawkins mine, smoke grenade, Gammon grenade..." "TNT, this bullshit and a pair of nasty skivvies." "Your point?" "This weighs as much as I do." "I still got my chute, my Mae West and M-1." "–Where are your brass knuckles?" "–I could use some." "–Sgt Martin!" "–Vest, anything for me?" "Nope." "Sgt Martin!" "Talbert!" "Floyd." "Floyd M Here." "–Heavy." "Condoms?" "–I don't know, probably." "–What you got?" "–"Dear Floyd:" "Give them hell."" "It's from chief of the Kokomo Police Department." "You gotta love cops." "All right, listen up!" "Listen up!" "If you did not sign your GI life insurance policy... you go on and see Sgt Evans at the Headquarters Company tent." "You boys don't let your families miss out on $10·000." "–You hear, Gerry?" "–Lip!" "Yeah, boy?" "–Has Guarnere mentioned his brother?" "–No." "I got a problem." "My wife keeps up with things at home." "Casualty lists and like that." "–Guarnere's brother in Italy..." "–Henry?" "Killed in Monte Cassino." "–Well, I'm sure he doesn't know." "–Damn." "What do you think I should do?" "–If it were me?" "I'd tell him." "–A couple hours before we jump?" "I don't know." "Why are they springing these on us now?" "It's just 80 extra pounds strapped to your leg." "Does anybody have any idea how this thing works?" "Colonel Sink." "Colonel Sink." ""Soldiers of the regiment:" ""Tonight is the night..." ""of nights." ""As you read this, you are en route to the adventure... for which you have trained for over two years."" "That's why they gave us ice cream." "Easy Company!" "Listen up!" "Channel coast is socked in with rain and fog." "No jump tonight." "The invasion has been postponed." "We're on a 24-hour stand-down." ""Dearest Johnny?"" "I got the wrong goddamn jacket." ""Bill Guarnere's brother..."" "–Good luck, lads." "–See you, Tommy." "Give Jerry one for me." "Johnny." "You might be looking for this." "I took your jacket by mistake." "I'm sorry." "You read it?" "–Where the fuck is Monte Cassino?" "–I don't know." "Italy somewhere." "Sorry about your brother, Bill." "I'm sorry for my ma." "He was..." "Let's get this over with." "Bill?" "I'll meet up with you over there." "Doc Roe is giving these out for airsickness." "Orders are, every man takes one now." "Another, 30 minutes in the air." "Lieutenant." "2nd Platoon, listen up." "Good luck." "God bless you." "I'll see you in the assembly area." "If the wire cuts are successful, all we should have to deal with is..." "–Goddamn, Lieb." "–That airsick pill is making me loopy." "⬄24000÷1001⬄"