It was past 3 AM, time for the changing of the guard. Parks decided to have the men take turns on watch. He walked to Smith's foxhole, squatted down, and patted his helmet: "Hey, Smith, it's your turn."
Smith opened his eyes, then he saw Parks and mumbled, "Is it my turn already?" As he spoke, he climbed out of the foxhole. He adjusted his gear, then took up his bayonet-fixed rifle and went to stand watch.
Without the friendly fire incident of the "Night of the Bayonets," Parks had replaced Tibbett, saving Tibbett from being accidentally injured by Smith, and also preventing Smith from harming his own brother. Parks looked at his retreating figure and couldn't help but smile slightly. Everything he was doing was to minimize casualties among his brothers, and it seemed to be having some effect. Although many of his brothers were saved without their knowledge, it was more than worth it.
Parks found Sergeant Lipton and asked him to take his place, patrolling all the sentry posts of Easy Company. He was too tired and needed to rest before the attack, otherwise, he could easily get injured in battle. Now, his main objective, the friendly fire incident of the Night of the Bayonets, would not happen.
"Alright, Sir!" Lipton didn't say anything; he was a very disciplined man.
Parks nodded to Lipton, then walked towards his own foxhole. Most of the men in Easy Company were asleep, with a few not sleeping soundly, often making subtle sounds of turning over and sighing.
"Bloy?" As Parks passed a foxhole, he saw the soldier inside staring wide-eyed at the dark void opposite, showing no sign of sleepiness. Parks recognized him and couldn't help but call out.
"Sir!" Bloy glanced at him and responded in a low voice.
"What are you thinking about?" Parks jumped into Bloy's foxhole. They huddled together, sitting. Parks spoke while taking out a raincoat from his backpack, spreading it against the foxhole wall, then leaning back and gently closing his eyes.
Bloy looked at Parks, shook his head, and then looked forward into the darkness again, as if trying to see through the fear of the night. After a moment of contemplation, he softly said, "I'm thinking about tomorrow's battle, Sir."
But then, soft snoring came from beside him. He couldn't help but turn his head and saw that Parks's steel helmet almost covered his entire face, and the snoring was coming from under the helmet—he was asleep.
Bloy was somewhat stunned, then turned his eyes back to the front. He was filled with fear for the war; ever since the D-Day airborne drop, his heart had been in constant turmoil, never ceasing. In battles big and small, brothers constantly fell before him, or he saw their blood-stained uniforms and heard their agonizing screams—all of this endlessly magnified his fear.
To be honest, he envied Parks. He envied his agile movements and accurate marksmanship; he envied his courage to constantly move through the Germans' hail of bullets; he envied the genuine respect he received from his brothers. He respected him greatly too. But all of this was swallowed by his own cowardice. He even wondered if he was worthy to fight alongside him. He now understood why Parks didn't go back to his own foxhole but stayed with him. He was trying to pull himself out of his predicament.
Bloy stretched out his hand, and in the darkness, he spread his five fingers. Then he felt an inner tremor, and this tremor made his hand tremble along with his heart.
"Damn it!" He cursed inwardly, somewhat annoyed, and slammed his hand hard against the side of the foxhole. The stinging sensation surprisingly brought him a slight sense of comfort.
After this almost cathartic punch, Bloy's heart gradually calmed down a bit. And Parks's snoring, his steady breathing, seemed like a calming balm, allowing his taut heart to slowly relax. Once his tense heart relaxed, he felt tired, and then gradually fell asleep.
On the night before the battle, the position was quiet. Not only was the U.S. Army position quiet, but the German Army also no longer had anyone wantonly trying to provoke anything. They were either asleep or quietly and nervously awaiting the order to attack.
Colonel Hight stood motionless at the rear of the position, staring at the darkness before him. He didn't constantly check his watch, as that would give his subordinates a sense of unease. He had to stabilize morale and give them enough confidence to defeat the Americans.
A staff Major beside him, however, couldn't bear it and kept raising his wrist to check the time. The time for the attack was getting closer and closer, which made the Major inexplicably nervous.
"Major Andries!" Hight glanced at him, smiling softly, "Nervous?"
Major Andries was startled, then looked at the smiling Hight. His expression relaxed a little, and he shook his head somewhat sheepishly, then straightened his chest: "Not nervous, Colonel!"
Hight looked at him, shaking his head and smiling: "That's not true, Major, your actions and expression betray you!"
Andries was very embarrassed. This feeling of having his thoughts exposed in front of his superior was like being stripped naked and thrown into a crowd. He twitched his mouth, trying to resolve it with a smile, but the muscles in his face were stiff, and he couldn't smile.
"I'm also very nervous!" Hight didn't even look at him again, speaking faintly towards the dark front.
These words immediately left Andries dumbfounded. But he couldn't ask. He just looked at Colonel Hight , his expression a little stiff. Andries actually knew that the American landing had already succeeded, and their forces were not enough to stop the Allied advance. He looked at Hight's somewhat solitary figure in the night, and suddenly felt a bit of sympathy for him.
Actually, sympathizing with him was also sympathizing with himself. Andries gave a wry smile. But he didn't say anything. He knew his duty was to obey orders, either to die in battle or to fight to the death. Because of this, his heart also became nervous. He pressed the pocket of his jacket, felt the thin piece of paper and photo inside, and his heart seemed to calm down a little.
"What's in your pocket?" Hight suddenly turned his head and saw his action. He knew many soldiers liked to keep photos of their family or girlfriends in their jacket pockets. Not just soldiers, but he did too. However, his pocket contained a photo of him with the Fuhrer, which he had kept close for over a year—it was his most precious photo, always kept close to him.
"A photo?" Hight smiled slightly; he could see Andries's Pay attention to of it.
Andries was once again seen through by Hight , and his face immediately flushed. He murmured, "It's… yes, it's a letter to my wife, and… and a photo of our family." As he spoke, he reached out and took out the photo, handing it to Colonel Hight .
In the photo, Andries was wearing an officer's uniform, looking very handsome. To his left was an ordinary-looking woman, the kind seen everywhere in Germany, very quiet but very diligent. To his right was a small girl, about three or four years old, with a round face and a chubby mouth open in a wide laugh.
Hight was stunned and silent. He regretted taking the photo the moment he received it. It reminded him of his wife and son back home. His wife's gentle beauty, his son's handsome elegance. He loved his wife very much, and he loved his son even more. Although his son strongly wanted to join the U.S. Army, he flatly refused.
He sent him to university, forbidding him from participating in politics and military affairs. He vaguely knew the final outcome of his empire. He was leaving a way out for his family. But he himself had to fight for the person he most respected—the Fuhrer—until death. He had no other choice.
"Sir!" Andries saw Colonel Hight seemingly lost in thought and couldn't help but call out. He was a little worried about the Colonel.
Hight quickly snapped back to reality. He knew he couldn't think about these things now; it would be fatal for him on the battlefield.
"Here, Major!" Hight handed the photo back to Andries, looking at his still young company, "If you have a chance to survive, go back and see your wife and daughter! They must miss you very much!"
"Sir?" Andries almost suspected he had misheard. Hight had always been known as a strict officer, but these words were heard by his own ears.
Hight didn't explain; he just nodded slightly. Then he raised his hand to check his watch. The time for his attack was very, very close. The final outcome of a battle could affect the future course of the war.
The sky was already hazy, and dawn would soon arrive.
Parks woke up reflexively. He raised his hand and checked his watch: five o'clock sharp, only half an hour until the attack. Just then, Winters came over, glanced at the already awake Parks, and whispered, "Go wake up the men, get ready, we're going to attack."
Parks nodded. Then he nudged Bloy beside him. Bloy opened his eyes, his face still showing the confusion of just waking up from a deep sleep.
"Get ready for battle, check your weapons!" Parks instructed, then climbed out of the foxhole. He woke up Guarnere, Tibbett, and Landers, among others.
"Wake up the men, get ready for battle! We're going to start the attack!" Parks said, "Remember, don't make too much noise. We still need to be cautious before the attack!"
Soon, all the men of Easy Company were woken up. They began to check their weapons and, during this time, quickly ate something. Although it was still k ration, no one could complain anymore. There was no time to complain; being able to eat a little would be of great benefit for preserving stamina during the battle.
Subsequently, F Company and D Company also began to prepare. Everyone entered their positions, quietly waiting for the moment the battle would begin. No one spoke, and no one was distracted.
Bloy curled tightly in his foxhole. The fear that had gradually dissipated during sleep slowly returned to his heart with the oppressive and heavy atmosphere. He covered his helmet with one hand and tightly gripped his rifle with the other, trembling slightly.
Dawn quietly arrived, and hazy scenes gradually appeared before them. Then, the objects in front gradually became clear. The blurry outlines before their eyes slowly became distinct, clearer and clearer…
Winters checked his watch—the last minute. The minute hand moved steadily…
Parks quietly jumped into the position, then raised his rifle. Through the sights, he could gradually see the fence opposite, and the moving shadows of Germans behind the fence.
"Attack!" Colonel Strehl gave the order.
"Attack!" Colonel Hight also gave the order.
The orders from both men were given almost simultaneously.
"Bang!" A crisp sound from an m1 garand rifle shattered the tense atmosphere, cutting through the quiet dawn like a curtain sliced by a sharp knife.
A German fell to the ground.
Parks fired the first shot.
This shot heralded the start of the battle.
All the cannons, mortars, machine guns, rifles, and other weapons fired at once; for a moment, the sound of guns and cannons was deafening, and the sky and earth turned dark.
The brothers of Easy Company, who had endured non-stop fighting, began to feel very tired, but they all held their ground.
"Stay put, no retreating!" Welsh shouted loudly as he rushed to the front line of the position, firing frantically and yelling, "Duck down, watch out for the Germans, don't let them charge!"
Winters also moved constantly through the position, shouting loudly and issuing orders: "Mortars, aim at the Germans, return fire immediately."
"Patrick Christenson, tell the brothers around you not to panic, duck down, find cover, and shoot!"
"Concentrate fire!"
"Keep firing, maintain superior firepower, watch your left!"
Winters moved back and forth among Easy Company, boosting morale.
He yelled hoarsely, making the brothers of Easy Company feel at ease; at least their commander was still holding on.
Bloy shivered in the foxhole, looking fearfully at the moving figures outside the foxhole, not daring to utter a sound.
The "thump, thump, thump" sounds were bullets piercing bodies.
A moving figure suddenly fell in front of Bloy's foxhole; his head drooped, and a stream of blood gushed from his mouth, then spread over his entire face.
It was soldier Folkman of the Second Platoon; he had been shot in the chest and abdomen and died on the spot.
"Ah—" Bloy finally screamed, stepping back abruptly and leaning tightly against the foxhole wall, covering his head with his hands and letting out a hoarse cry; he was terrified.
"Bloy!" A voice sounded above his head, "Damn it, get up, stand up, pick up your rifle, and kill those Germans! Hurry!"
It was Parks's voice.
Bloy finally looked up; Parks was glaring at him: "Have you forgotten what I told you? You are already dead, do you understand? You are dead.
You have no fear, no cowardice, and no more death, because you are already dead! Quickly pick up your weapon, yes, just like that, shoot!"
Under Parks's stern reprimand, Bloy finally picked up his rifle and, without looking, fired all the bullets forward in one breath.
This clip of bullets seemed to have shot out all his cowardice.
He shouted loudly: "Yes, Sir, I am already dead.
I have no death, I will kill those Germans!"
He changed a clip, then raised his gun again and began to aim.
"Bang!" A bullet casing ejected, tumbling in the air, drawing an arc.
As if a beautiful rhythm, Bloy seemed unable to hear the deafening sound of guns and cannons, only the crisp sound of this m1 garand firing, and the beautiful trajectory of the casings scattering in the air.
This was war, this was firing!
Bloy experienced this feeling for the first time.
When the bullets were fired again and the clip ejected, the 'ding' sound seemed to wake him from his daze; he looked up and Parks was already gone.
"Come on, Germans, watch how I'll take you down!" Bloy changed the clip again, lay on the edge of the foxhole, and pulled the Trigger on a German charging towards Easy Company's position.
That German fell headfirst.
Eliminating the enemy was that simple.
"Tank!" Someone suddenly yelled, and at the Germans' barricade, a tank turret appeared, and then German tanks were seen charging forward.
The tanks charged towards the position defended by Second Battalion, continuously firing shells, with German infantry following behind the tanks.
"Boom—" A shell exploded ten meters from Christenson.
"I'm wounded!" Someone shouted; it was Strollo next to Gordon, who had been hit in the thigh by shrapnel.
Gordon also sustained shrapnel wounds to his shoulder and leg.
"Take out the tank!" Parks shouted, "Christenson, take out that tank!"
Fortunately, preparations had been made; each platoon had received an extra bazooka.
Christenson, Ramirez, Malarkey, and Joseph each carried a bazooka and rushed forward.
They each found their targets.
Malarkey stopped in an open area, then squatted down.
Malarkey loaded the rocket and shouted loudly to Joseph: "Fire, take it out!" A tank charging towards them tried to break through the barricade.
"Boom—" A rocket, after hitting the tank, ricocheted and exploded.
The tank was completely undamaged.
"I told you, this isn't a good idea!" Joseph kept muttering, "We two will be killed by this bazooka sooner or later, hurry, the tank is lifting, it's about to cross the barricade, now's our good chance, its head is tilted up, let's hit its belly." Joseph shouted excitedly.
"Fire!" Malarkey shouted loudly.
At the same time, Joseph fired; the rocket hit the tank's unprotected underside, which was the tank's vulnerable spot.
In an instant, the tank exploded and caught fire, emitting thick black smoke.
"Hurry, retreat, hurry!" Malarkey slapped Joseph and quickly ran back, because they saw the German soldiers following the tank.
"Cover, cover!" Winters shouted loudly.
Christenson's machine gun swept across that area, immediately slowing the German assault.
But bullets still whizzed past Malarkey and Joseph's heads and bodies.
"Come over here!" Parks yanked Malarkey into the position's cover.
Joseph jumped up, attempting to leap over the cover.
The Germans' concentrated fire shot at him.
With a "thud," Joseph and the bazooka on his shoulder fell to the ground together.
"I told you this wasn't a good job!" Joseph said with a bitter face.
He tried to get up but quickly fell again.
A patch of crimson blood rapidly spread across his chest.
"This really isn't..." He suddenly began to cough violently, then a mouthful of blood gushed from his mouth, making his voice muffled, "Not... a good job!"
"Joseph!" Parks called out, but Joseph's eyes had gradually lost their luster and become dim.
"God!" Malarkey couldn't help but cover his face with one hand, then lowered his head in frustration, "Damn it, no, no, Joseph, you're fine, please, don't be like this!" Malarkey choked up.
"He's dead!" Parks patted Malarkey's shoulder, "Go kill the Germans! Kill them! His death was worth it."
Parks didn't know how to comfort Malarkey; he slowly closed Joseph's still-open eyes.
By this time, Christenson had retreated; he and Ramirez had been driven back by a barrage of German gunfire and had no chance to take out the tank.
But because the tank Joseph destroyed blocked the path of the German tanks behind it, they turned and attacked Easy Company's two flanks.
"Damn it, the left flank is done for!" When Welsh looked to the left flank, F Company, unable to withstand the German tank and artillery attack, began to retreat like a tide.
F Company's retreat was followed by D Company's retreat.
On the entire front line, only Easy Company remained.
Easy Company was completely isolated on the position, forming a salient, which subjected them to even fiercer German firepower.
"Gordon, suppress the Germans on the right flank with machine gun fire!" Winters refused to retreat; he could still command the battle.
"Guys, hold on." Parks continuously encouraged the brothers.
"Colonel, F Company and D Company have retreated!" Nixon, who was observing the battle from the rear, reported anxiously to Colonel Strehl; if F Company and D Company weren't quickly sent back up, Easy Company's situation would be very dangerous.
"Who gave that order?" Lieutenant Colonel Strayer was furious, "Damn it, I'll relieve him of his command."
"Nixon, immediately tell them my order: F Company and D Company must return to their defensive line, they must!" Colonel Strehl added with an unquestionable tone.
The German tanks outflanked Easy Company from the right.
"Oh, it's over!" Ramirez looked at the tank driving towards them and cried out in despair.
"Not yet! soldier." A voice came from beside him; it was Parks, "We're not done yet, don't be so disheartened.
The battle isn't over, hurry, keep firing, don't stop, or the Germans will have an opportunity!"
"Yes, Sir!" Ramirez raised his rifle and continued to fire.
Since retreat was impossible, they could only fight to the death.
"Mortars, target the enemy on the right flank, don't let them encircle us.
We still have a chance!" Winters continuously issued orders, directing the brothers to stubbornly hold their ground on this position.
Under Lieutenant Colonel Strayer's strong command, F Company and D Company began to advance again.
They filled the gap in the line in front of them, and after multiple strong assaults, the Germans were no longer able to break through Second Battalion's defensive line.
"The German tanks are coming again!" Christenson suddenly shouted, and he said to Ramirez, "Alright, buddy, watch us two, take it out, and we'll still be saved!" With that, he picked up the bazooka and moved to the flank, intending to take it out from the side.
"Although this is a suicide mission, it's clear you can't do it alone, so I'll have to go with you!" Ramirez picked up a rocket and followed him.
They had no retreat, only to go forward bravely.
"Boom—" The tank was suddenly hit and burst into flames.
The German tank was hit and caught fire, but it wasn't Christenson who fired; he hadn't even gotten into position when he suddenly saw the German tank explode with a huge bang.
"Alright, 2nd Armored Division!" someone cheered from Easy Company's position.
"Beautiful, Sherman!" Hubler exclaimed with heartfelt admiration at the rolling steel behemoth, just like the loud cheers from the brothers beside him.
Six tanks from the 2nd Armored Division, supported by some infantry from the recently deployed 29th Division, charged towards the German.
The remaining two German tanks, seeing the unfavorable situation, quickly reversed, attempting to escape.
However, the sherman tanks didn't miss the optimal opportunity to attack them while they were reversing; six tanks fired almost simultaneously, hitting the two escaping tanks, which instantly burst into flames.
"It's our tanks!" Gordon, his face covered in blood, slapped Strollo on the shoulder, laughing heartily.
Patrick Christenson stood up, raised his gun, and fired continuously at the retreating German, then laughed and shouted at the German soldiers who were retreating, having charged forward only to flee back: "Hurry and run, you pathetic worms!"
"Now is the time for a counterattack!" Winters shouted loudly as he moved, "Fire, fire, don't let them go.
Let them know what we're capable of."
The German offensive was quick, but their retreat was even quicker now.
German soldiers constantly fell, then were trampled by those behind them, and then were hit and fell again, with screams occasionally piercing through the hail of bullets and explosions.
"The line is finished!" Hight , behind the German position, raised his binoculars and looked at the troops in front, who were being routed by the Americans, and couldn't help but sigh.
Then he slowly lowered his binoculars.
"Colonel, should we order them to retreat to the second defensive line?" Major Andries looked at Hight's face, which was somewhat gloomy, and his tone seemed to convey a sense of helplessness after exhausting all his strength.
Hight nodded, ignored Andries, and walked directly into the battalion headquarters command post, where a large map was spread out.
His eyes were fixed on the map; he just looked at it quietly, doing nothing.
Andries tried to call the front line, but the phone lines were cut, and it was already chaos.
He decided to go personally to withdraw the scattered and defeated troops; perhaps they could still be useful on the second defensive line.
The German troops, who had charged, quickly retreated to their positions under the American tank assault.
Upon entering their positions, they began to organize some resistance, but their formation was in disarray, and their effective resistance was not strong, while sherman tanks had already begun to assault their barricades.
This was the barrier of their first defensive line; once breached, the defensive line would be completely gone, swept away by the sherman tanks.
Bloy crawled out of the foxhole; this battle had almost drained all his energy.
The brothers of Easy Company began to advance with the troops of the 29th Division.
After advancing a dozen meters, Bloy once again raised his rifle, searching for those flickering figures behind the barricades.
Although he had emptied several magazines, he knew that the probability of him hitting a German was very small; it was merely to bolster his own courage.
A figure clearly appeared in his sights.
It was a Major, loudly shouting something at the scattered German soldiers, seemingly directing them to retreat.
He stopped, and the German Major stopped; this was a very good moment.
Bloy muttered, "Forgive him, God."
With that, he pulled the Trigger.
With a "bang!" Bloy could still see the Major in his sights, swaying and trying to steady himself.
But soon, he was hit again by a bullet fired by an American soldier from behind.
"Good job, Bloy!" As Parks advanced, he saw a German Major and was about to raise his gun to aim when he suddenly heard a gunshot—it was the sound of an M1—and the German Major was hit.
He turned his head and saw that it was a shot fired by Bloy, so he gave him a thumbs-up and loudly praised him.
The German Major finally fell.
And the sherman tanks finally broke through the German barricades, sweeping through the remaining German on the position, driving them out of their positions.
"Bloy, go take a look, maybe that Major has a luger!" Parks shouted loudly at Bloy.
Upon hearing this, Bloy's spirits immediately lifted, and he ran towards where the Major had fallen.
A luger was an irresistible temptation for any American soldier, not only because the luger was an excellent pistol, but also because the luger represented a status symbol among the German, a mark of nobility.
Thus, for an American soldier who captured it, it was an immense honor.
Bloy was already squatting beside the Major, beginning to search, when another figure ran towards the Major, shouting loudly at him: "Hey, Bloy, I hit him."
It was Malarkey, shouting at Bloy.
"No, don't even think about it, I was the first one to hit him with a shot." Bloy turned over the body of the prone German Major; an handsome face, bearing the pallor of death, with lifeless eyes.
He was dead, but from his pistol holster at his waist, a pistol grip was clearly visible.
Bloy reached out his hand.
"luger!" Bloy exclaimed in surprise, then took out the pistol.
"Damn it!" Malarkey looked helplessly at Parks, who was walking over, "I hit him too."
Parks shrugged and smiled, "Bloy hit him first.
Looks like you'll just have to wait until next time, and I hope you're quicker next time, don't let anyone beat you to it."
Malarkey grumbled and then charged forward again.
Bloy put the luger in his pocket and then began to search the German Major's pockets, hoping to find something else inside.
This was a Major, meaning there would definitely be no shortage of valuable items.
And in fact, the Major's body did not disappoint him; he found a pocket watch, pure gold, and then his hand also felt a thin object in the German Major's inner pocket.
It was a photograph.
When Parks took it out, he saw a photograph, a family portrait.
A serene woman, an handsome officer, and a lovely little girl.
He flipped the photograph over and saw a line of text on the back.
But he couldn't read it.
Bloy suddenly felt his hands trembling slightly, and his chest felt as if it had been struck hard by something, causing him some pain.
He didn't know what to do, and looking at Parks, who had already walked up to him, his eyes revealed a look of bewilderment.
Parks took the photograph and glanced at it, only sighing in his heart.
How many families, besides this one, had been sacrificed in the war?
German, American, French, British… who knew how many families had been ground to dust in the gunfire like this.
"Wife Emma, daughter Lina, Andries, July 1943." Parks read aloud.
"What?" Bloy looked at Parks.
"It's written on the back of the photo!" Parks gave a bitter smile.
Then he saw Bloy's eyes seem to dim a bit; he knew what was on his mind.
"This isn't your fault, Bloy!" Parks could only tell him, "Forget this, think about the American families destroyed in this war, and of course, those families in other countries; this is war!"
Parks returned the photograph to him, then patted him on the shoulder, shouldered his rifle, and continued forward, attacking the German position.
Bloy paused for a moment, then pressed the photograph against his body, put it into his inner pocket, and also shouldered his rifle, following Parks.
"Boom—" Suddenly, a huge explosion erupted on the German position, sending soil and tree branches from the barricades flying high, and then the massive explosions became a continuous roar.
"German artillery!" Parks shouted, "Get down!" He threw himself, pushing Bloy beside him to the ground.
All the attacking American soldiers scrambled for cover, seeking shelter.
"Boom!" A sherman tank was hit by a shell and burst into flames.
The tank crew tried to drive the tank away, but soon the ammunition inside ignited, causing a massive explosion that completely destroyed it, along with the tank crew inside.
The remaining tanks quickly retreated, trying to escape the German artillery fire.
But this round of shelling was sudden and intense, and then another sherman tank was hit and caught fire.
"Steady, steady!" Winters shouted loudly, "Everyone find cover."
He moved through the artillery fire, and although exploding rocks, mud, and branches constantly flew past him, he seemed not to notice them.
The brothers of Easy Company began to take cover in the German positions, and the follow-up troops of the 29th Division began to continuously pour into the positions; this was Easy Company's support, and they came to take over Easy Company's defense.
After a round of shelling, the American offensive was halted.
They occupied the German's first defensive line, entered their defensive positions, and began to confront the German's second line of defense.
Colonel Hight slowly lowered his binoculars; he did not sigh.
He knew that by ordering the shelling of the position, he couldn't avoid killing his own men, but without the shelling, no one could stop the Americans, supported by sherman tanks, from charging towards the second defensive line.
After Major Andries went out to make contact, he never returned.
Hight knew that Major Andries would not be coming back.
When he issued the shelling order, his own hand couldn't help but tremble slightly.
But he knew he had to do it; he tried to attribute the trembling of his hand to excitement, unwilling to attribute it to pity.
If it were pity, that would be his greatest weakness.
He suddenly remembered that photograph of Major Andries.
"Colonel, the American offensive has been stopped by us!" At this moment, a Captain ran over, reporting loudly and happily to Hight .
Because this meant they might still be able to organize a counterattack or defense.
"Yes, we've defended against them, that's really good news!" Hight tried his best to make his tone sound a little more relaxed; he didn't want to create tension among his subordinates, which would be detrimental to morale.
"Yes, Colonel!" The Captain nodded, "We have time to spare and teach those arrogant Americans a lesson!"
Colonel Hight's counterattack was something the soldiers of Easy Company wouldn't experience.
They received orders to retreat, and the entire 506th Regiment pulled back into Carrington.
Now, other units of the 101st Airborne Division had been sent to the front lines, while the 506th Regiment served as the 101st Airborne Division's reserve unit.
This was undoubtedly excellent news for the soldiers of Easy Company, who had just been through a major battle.
"Lipton, Talbert, Guarnere!" Parks called the three over after returning to the Town.
"Go find some places in the Town for the soldiers to spend the night, and remember, make yourselves comfortable."
"Yes, Sir!" The three replied in unison.
Parks nodded, then went to find Winters; he had told him to find him after returning to the Town during the retreat.
Guarnere and the other two watched Parks leave, then turned and asked, "Talbert, what exactly does 'comfortable' mean?"
"Who knows?" Talbert shrugged.
"For you, a haystack might be a pretty comfortable place right now."
"Maybe we should find a hotel or something!" Lipton suggested.
"There are also some houses that haven't been bombed, which are also good options, at least so the soldiers don't have to sleep on the streets."
"Damn Germans!" Talbert cursed.
"They bombed this place to pieces; I don't want to sleep in a pile of ruins on the street.
All right, let's go, folks, get those U.S. Army soldiers settled, or they'll tear down every house here."
The soldiers of Easy Company didn't have the energy to tear down houses.
They were simply too tired.
After settling into the undamaged houses, they lay sprawled across the rooms, sleeping on beds or floors, some even falling asleep while sitting up.
Parks found Winters in a hotel; he was shaving in his room, and Nixon and Welsh were with him.
Those two were drinking.
"Do you have to shave again before going to sleep?" Parks approached Winters, joking, "It seems the Lieutenant is very strict about his appearance."
Then he walked over to Nixon and took the drink he offered him.
"Whiskey!" Welsh said from the side.
"The barrel we found."
"That's his biggest advantage," Nixon glanced at Winters, who was shaving.
"Maybe one day he'll stand on a trench and yell at the Germans: 'Hey, Germans, you beggars, come and see our American Airborne Division, always so clean and tidy.'
Perhaps that will make those Germans die of shame."
"And maybe one day I'll yell at you too, Nick!" Winters had finished shaving by then, wiping the foam from his face with a towel.
"Then you'll also die of shame like those Germans!"
Nixon touched his chin and cheeks, then smiled awkwardly at Parks: "Being with such a clean person, I don't know if it's my luck or misfortune."
Then he took a sip of his drink.
"But I still have to stick close to him at all times, because I've hidden all my liquor with him; this idea is really too good."
"I think so too! That's a good idea!" Welsh echoed.
Then he got up to pour drinks but accidentally kicked his backpack, revealing a length of white silk.
"What's this?" Nixon looked at his backpack in confusion.
"It's a parachute; it's made of silk.
If it's made into a wedding dress, Betty will definitely love it."
Welsh tucked the exposed white silk back in and then poured Parks and Nixon another drink each.
"Of course, adding some embellishments would make it even more beautiful."
"Good idea!" Winters wiped his face clean and then sat down.
"Parks, Welsh, are the soldiers in the platoon all settled?" Winters asked casually.
Welsh nodded and said, "Don't worry, they're all arranged.
These guys have no problem finding a place to sleep.
If they still had the energy now, they'd definitely have plundered all the pubs in this Town."
Parks stood up: "Alright, I'm going to sleep.
Are there any other rooms here?"
His eyes scanned the four people in the room, and there was still one bed.
"Of course, go find one yourself!" Nixon pointed outside the door.
"There are rooms upstairs, and there should be a shower, but only cold water."
Parks nodded, bid farewell to the three, and then climbed upstairs.
There were a few more rooms there, but only one had a bed and bedding.
But this was already enough.
He walked in and smelled a musty odor from afar; it wasn't very strong, just slightly pungent.
But it was tolerable, and Parks wasn't picky.
He put his gear and rifle by the bed, ready to sleep.
But he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
"Harry—" He didn't turn around, unbuckling his belt.
"It's me, Parks!" Winters' voice came from behind him.
"Dick?" Parks turned around, then smiled at him.
"It seems Nick has taken over your bed!"
Winters looked at him, a slight smile on his lips.
He found a chair in the room, moved it to the bedside, and sat down, then gestured for Parks to sit on the bed: "Let's talk."
"Alright!" Parks took off his jacket, which was already covered in mud, then threw off his boots, and rolled onto the bed, making himself feel more comfortable.
"Because of what?"
"How have you been feeling lately?" Winters suddenly asked, then he saw Parks' somewhat surprised expression and smiled, "I mean physically and mentally."
"Hmm, is this a question from a superior?" Parks smiled.
He didn't know why Winters would bring this up.
"If it's from a superior, I'd say, 'I feel great, Sir, thank you very much for giving me this opportunity to fight.
I will do my best in every battle, and now I feel very energetic.
If you have any missions to assign, I would be very happy to serve you, Sir.
It would be an immense honor to liberate Europe and capture the little mustache, Hitler, Sir.'"
Winters couldn't help but smile slightly and said, "You know I don't mean that."
Parks also smiled and said, "Very tired, and very exhausted, Dick.
You know, when we retreated today, I suddenly felt a strong aversion to fighting, to this battlefield piled with dead bodies and blood.
Although I know this is due to fatigue and overexertion, if we keep going like this, I'm afraid the soldiers will become war-weary and even desert before we even leave France."
"I know!" Winters' expression became somewhat serious.
"Have a good talk with the soldiers! Tell them that we will rest here for a few days.
We will recover our strength."
The casualty count for Easy Company in this battle was out: six wounded, four dead.
This made Winters feel a bit heavy-hearted.
"I understand, don't worry, I'll talk to the soldiers!" Parks nodded.
He looked at Winters, but he showed no sign of leaving, as if he still had something to say.
"Lieutenant, is there another mission?" Parks used his rank to address him, which was a more formal address, because Parks saw Winters' hesitation, and it must be related to a mission, as Winters never troubled the soldiers for personal matters.
"Hmm, yes!" Winters cleared his throat, then looked at Parks, a hint of apology in his eyes.
Parks couldn't help but smile and said, "Go on, I'm ready."
Winters looked at Parks' smiling face and finally spoke: "It's like this, do you know a soldier named Niland from D Company?
It's Fritz Niland."
Parks nodded and said, "Not very familiar.
On D-Day, I saw him in Grandcamp-Maisy; he was on duty then.
What's wrong with this U.S. Army soldier?"
"He's dead!" Winters said.
"On our way to this Town, we encountered a German harassment at night, and he was killed."
He cleared his throat again.
"But what does that have to do with us?" Parks spread his hands.
Winters shook his head: "It concerns us now, Parks.
He had three other brothers: one, a platoon sergeant, died on Utah Beach on D-Day, and another, a pilot in the China-Burma-India theater, also died this week.
In other words, Fritz Niland's mother received three telegrams of casualty notification from the Army Department on the same day."
Parks' eyes widened.
He knew what this meant.
"So where's the other brother?" Parks voiced the question on his mind.
His first thought was, is this brother named Ryan?
But obviously, the names were different.
However, the situation was very similar.
Winters gave a wry smile and said, "He serves in the 82nd Airborne Division.
His name is Bob Niland."
Parks breathed a sigh of relief, then said, "What a poor mother.
Why don't the people from the Army Department send Bob back to his mother?
Why do they still make her last son fight to the death here?"
Winters smiled bitterly: "The people at the Army Department thought of it.
They did want to send Bob back to his mother, but it's not easy to do, very difficult."
Winters couldn't help but stand up at this point and took a deep breath.
"Bob also died in battle?" Parks asked this question, then realized he was wrong.
If Bob had died in battle, Winters probably wouldn't be standing here talking to him.
Clearly, Winters was looking for him because of this matter; he wouldn't say such things to him for no reason.
"I don't know!" Winters said with a bitter smile.
"Maybe he's dead, maybe he's not, who knows?
He was captured by the Germans.
In an attack on the 82nd Airborne Division by the German Sixth Parachute Regiment led by Colonel Hight, Bob was shot in the calf and couldn't disengage from the battle in time.
Someone from the 82nd Airborne Division saw him being captured by the Germans with their own eyes."
"So that means..." Parks couldn't help but frown.
"The Army Department directly issued the order to the 506th battalion headquarters, which is currently confronting the German Sixth Parachute Regiment, demanding that all means be used to rescue Bob Niland." Winters' tone was helpless.
"So Colonel Sink thought of Easy Company?" Parks couldn't help but shake his head.
"That's just great, this is really interesting."
"Parks, besides you, I can't think of a second person who can carry out this mission!" Winters said somewhat helplessly.
Winters truly couldn't think of a second person, just as Colonel Sink couldn't think of a second company to execute this mission.
In any case, the 506th Regiment was the elite of the 101st Division, and Easy Company was the elite of the 506th Regiment.
This had been proven in both training and combat.
Furthermore, Easy Company had one of the 101st Division's finest soldiers—Private Perks.
This soldier, who had been repeatedly praised by General Lee both then and later, left a very deep impression on Colonel Sink.
"Dick, this is the mission," Sink used Winters' nickname.
"We can't refuse.
This order came directly from the Army Department, and I've always believed that only Easy Company can complete this mission.
You can send out a combat squad to execute it."
"Sir, the brothers of Easy Company are exhausted.
They've been in endless battles since D-Day, and what they need is rest."
Winters was a bit unhappy, because since D-Day, Easy Company had been undertaking the heaviest combat missions and had always completed them brilliantly, especially this time.
When D Company and F Company collapsed and retreated, they held their ground, ultimately saving the entire battle, and the brothers of Easy Company paid a huge price.
Sink paused, then nodded, "Dick, we have no choice."
Yes, this mission was already set, and there was no turning back now.
The same went for Winters; though he could complain, he had no choice.
"You are all valuable assets of the U.S. Army, and the U.S. Army's finest resources.
You should be used where you are most needed!" Sink continued, though he knew these words offered little comfort.
"So Dick, talk to the brothers well."
Winters nodded.
He stopped talking, then turned to leave the battalion headquarters.
"Dick!" Sink called out to him from behind.
Winters turned, looked at Sink, and waited for his next words without a sound.
"Parks might be a better choice," Sink nodded to him.
"Reese Parks."
He then loudly reminded him, "The battalion headquarters will provide you with all the resources you need."
Winters made no sound and walked directly out of the battalion headquarters.
He knew this was a very dangerous mission, and the person chosen to complete it had to be an excellent candidate with strong discipline.
The first name that came to his mind was Reese Parks.
Although he didn't know how to approach Parks, he still found an opportunity to speak.
It was difficult, but no matter how difficult, he had to execute the order, so he now faced Parks and could only do it this way.
"Those bastards!" Parks cursed under his breath.
Winters knew who he was cursing; the U.S. Army Department, the 101st Division's 506th Regiment Commander Colonel Sink could all be included.
"Parks!" Winters cleared his throat again, looking at him worriedly.
Parks glanced at Winters, then nodded, "Alright, I agree.
Rather than letting other brothers risk it, I'd feel more at ease going myself.
Dick, talk to the battalion headquarters about supplies.
I think some things are essential to complete this mission."
Winters nodded, "Don't worry, the battalion headquarters will fully support you."
Winters pulled out a map from his pocket, spread it on the bed, and said to Parks, "We are currently in a standoff with the German Sixth Parachute Regiment at this position.
They've retreated to their second line of defense.
We can't capture them in a short time; they have heavy artillery and mortars, and of course, tanks.
And about three kilometers to their right, there's a small village called Neuwildorf.
The Germans should be holding prisoners of war in this village, but the exact location is unclear."
"Should be?" Parks couldn't help but frown.
"Are you saying this is just an estimate?
Or even higher-ups don't know the exact location of the POWs?
This is truly wonderful, completely up to luck."
His tone was sarcastic.
"How many people are guarding the prisoners?"
"Don't know."
"Are there other deployments at the POW camp?"
"Don't know, Parks!" Winters said apologetically, "This is all the intelligence they know!"
"Alright then."
Parks decided not to discuss this intelligence further; he could only improvise when the time came, but he added, "Dick, how much time do we have?"
"Before we defeat the Germans, or before the Germans defeat us," Winters said, because if the U.S. Army defeated the Germans, the Germans might kill all the prisoners, and if the Germans defeated the U.S. Army, then these prisoners would be transferred to concentration camps, making rescue impossible as well.
"There should be five days," Winters said.
"Within these five days, whether our reinforcements or German reinforcements arrive, it will greatly impact the rescue, so the best rescue time is the five days starting tomorrow.
During these five days, you need to cross the lines of both armies, bypass from the right side into the German defense zone, you have to take a big detour.
Within the German defense zone, you also need to constantly evade German patrol squads, and there might be small-scale battles."
"I know!" Parks nodded.
He was very familiar with this.
As an experienced former agent, he had not only carried out various assassination missions but also various special operations, especially leading small squad special combat.
Agents like him were rigorously trained, fought arduously, and faced far more dangerous situations than Easy Company currently did.
"The personnel needed are entirely up to you.
All soldiers in Easy Company are within your selection."
This was the greatest support Winters could offer.
"Okay, I'll draw up a list and give it to you!" Parks nodded.
"And all the equipment resources needed."
Winters nodded.
He looked at Parks, patted his shoulder, "Reese, do a good job.
Whether the mission succeeds or not, remember to come back alive."
Then he turned and went downstairs.
At around seven in the morning the next day, Winters woke Parks.
When they returned to the room downstairs, not only Nixon and Welsh were there, but Compton was also inside.
"Colonel Sink has decided to hold a banquet for the officers of the 506th Regiment, so we must attend," Winters smiled.
"I suggest changing into neat uniforms.
This is also what Colonel Sink requested.
He said that officers represent the face of the 506th Regiment; don't look like beggars, or the Germans will mock us."
"Oh, so that's it," Welsh whistled, then looked at Nixon, "Nick, didn't expect revenge to come so quickly, did you?
You should really be compared with Dick."
Clearly, he was referring to Nixon mocking Winters for shaving last night, which brought him some amusement.
"Alright, you have ten minutes.
At exactly eight o'clock, we must be at the battalion headquarters.
They're at the largest hotel in town, and there's plenty of good wine!" Nixon changed the subject, quickly urging them.
Colonel Sink's banquet venue was spacious, and all the officers of the regiment were present, making it very comfortable with fine wine and delicious food, though, of course, there were no beautiful waitresses pouring wine everywhere.
"This is truly a great place!" Compton forked a large piece of roasted beef onto his plate, still chewing something in his mouth, making his words muffled and unclear.
"Sink is truly kind!" Welsh forked a piece of roasted meat, put it in his mouth, chewed for a while, then raised his glass and took a sip of wine, exclaiming with exaggerated praise, "Perhaps this is the benefit officers should enjoy."
Nixon shook his head and smiled, "Harry, you're wrong.
The brothers won't be worse off than you.
You know those lads, they've practically dug up the entire town now.
They can find all the good wine, food, and useful items.
It's said that this morning, they even butchered two cows, and no one knows where they got them from."
"Wow, this is great!" Welsh exclaimed exaggeratedly.
"If I had known this, I wouldn't have needed to attend this banquet.
Because there's nothing here to attract me except the food."
"Including Colonel Sink's speech later?" Compton laughed.
"I'm sure," Welsh nodded.
"Colonel Sink will probably say that the brothers are working hard, that he will definitely be proud of us, and that the 506th Regiment is invincible.
Actually, I already know all this content."
Sure enough, not long after, Colonel Sink walked onto a raised platform and began to deliver his speech to all the officers.
From his impassioned language, it was indeed full of passion and inspiration.
"...The brothers of the 506th Regiment have endured various hardships and become more like true men.
I am proud of you.
The 506th Regiment, not only now but in the future, will be invincible..."
"Pfft—" Compton desperately tried to hold back his laughter, but still sprayed a mouthful of wine from his mouth onto Welsh's back, who was standing in front of him.
"Oh—Compton, you've dirtied my only clean clothes!" Welsh couldn't help but complain in a low voice.
"I told you, you really have no psychological preparation."
"Cheers!" Just as the two were whispering below, they heard Sink shout from the stage.
"Cheers!" All the officers roared, then drained the wine in their glasses.
The purpose of the banquet was merely to boost morale.
While Welsh and Compton were whispering, Sink also announced that he would apply for medals for officers who had participated in multiple battles and shown bravery.
This was also an important reason for the officers' cheers.
"Private Perks!" Someone called him.
Parks turned to see it was a Lieutenant.
"Sir?" Parks looked at him in confusion.
"Colonel Sink is waiting for you in the room next door!" The Lieutenant nodded at Parks.
"Please follow me!"
Compton and Welsh, who were next to Parks, looked at him in surprise; only Winters understood a little, because he had already told Colonel Sink the name of the person in charge of this operation before this.
When Parks entered the room, Colonel Sink was sitting there, with Lieutenant Colonel Strayer and Major Horton sitting beside him, whom he knew best.
There was also a Major and two Captains, but Parks didn't recognize them.
"This is Major Robert, sent by the Army Department," Sink didn't waste words and directly introduced the young Major who was sitting.
Major Horton stood up and walked over to Parks, scrutinizing him from head to toe before smiling, "I believe you already know why we've come to see you. What are your thoughts on this mission?"
Parks frowned, looking at Colonel Sink in confusion.
"Major Horton wants to hear your general ideas about this operation. I'm sure you already had a concept when Lieutenant Winters told you last night, didn't you?" Colonel Sink, holding a cigar between his fingers, nodded and smiled at Parks.
Parks knew that the U.S. Army was still somewhat uneasy, but seeing Colonel Sink nod, he could only give a general overview. After all, without specific reconnaissance, he couldn't have a detailed deployment plan.
"We plan to bypass the German defenses and then conduct a specific observation of the prisoner-of-war camp, such as the number of German guards, the time of their shift changes, and of course, the surrounding environment or other arrangements," Parks spread his hands. "Because the U.S. Army hasn't reconnaissance any useful intelligence from the Germans, we can only arrange it this way for now. The specific operation can only be formulated after the intelligence is clear and detailed."
Evidently, Parks' answer somewhat displeased the Major. He paced back and forth a few steps, looked at Parks, and frowned, "Lieutenant, we need Bob Niland rescued alive. If there's no specific, detailed plan, can you guarantee that?"
"No, sir!" Parks answered truthfully. "I can only say that in a specific operation, any unforeseen event could lead to its failure. Even the most detailed plan can't keep up with changing circumstances, especially since our rescue needs to happen within a few days."
"Alright, I've asked what I needed to ask!" Major Horton nodded, then sat back down expressionlessly. He then gestured for Colonel Sink to proceed.
Colonel Sink frowned, then stood up and walked over to Parks: "I know you are the best soldier in the entire battalion and even in the 101st Airborne Division, but the conditions this time are a bit harsh. We must ensure everything is foolproof, and it's always good to be prepared. You go back first, select your team members, and then await my orders!"
"Yes, sir!" Parks saluted, then walked out. He had said what he needed to say, and even if that Major was dissatisfied with him, he couldn't be blamed.
Watching Parks leave the room, a Captain closed the door.
"Major Horton, what do you think about this matter?" Colonel Sink sat down and asked the Major. Since the U.S. Army had directly sent people down, Sink also had to humbly listen to their opinions.
"He's not ready yet." Major Horton shook his head. "Are you sure he's the best candidate?" The Major was furious. If the U.S. Army hadn't instructed them to select personnel from the 506th Regiment of the 101st Airborne Division, he would never have wanted to stay here for another minute. The U.S. Army's reasons were sufficient: the 101st Airborne Division was currently confronting the German 6th Paratrooper Regiment, so they had some understanding of the enemy situation and were the closest. Also, the 506th Regiment's performance after D-Day was the best in the 101st Airborne Division.
"Yes, Parks is a model for the 506th Regiment!" Sink was a little displeased, but his tone remained calm. Moreover, Colonel Sink's thoughts were somewhat similar to Parks': it was impossible to formulate a specific and detailed rescue plan without clear intelligence. This Major was clearly a bit young and impetuous; his impatient expression showed his lack of political experience.
Major Horton was silent for a moment, knowing that he couldn't change Colonel Sink's mind, so he just nodded and said, "I hope you're right, Colonel. The U.S. Army places great importance on this operation, just don't mess it up!" With that, he stood up and began to straighten his uniform.
Colonel Sink also stood up and smiled at Major Horton, "Don't worry!"
Major Horton took his leave. But Colonel Sink was very annoyed; he knew the Major was using the U.S. Army to pressure him. Watching the Major depart, he couldn't help but curse, "Damn it."
"That guy is so proud, is it because he's been in the U.S. Army for too long?" Colonel Strehl shook his head and smiled. "Colonel, don't mind him, we'll just follow our own arrangements."
"I know!" Sink nodded, his expression a little grave. "But you just heard it, if we can't complete the mission, our 506th Regiment will lose face. Whether that guy named Niland can be rescued, I'm afraid many people are watching now. Once we fail, just think about it, the national newspapers and media, and those people in the U.S. Army, are not to be trifled with. The prestige we've worked so hard to build will plummet."
"Then what do you plan to do, Colonel!" Colonel Strehl stopped, asking with concern, "Are you sure you want to send Parks? Or can we send more people, perhaps an entire company!"
"That would only allow the Germans to devour them." Sink shook his head. "Too many people will certainly attract the Germans' attention, and they might even mobilize heavy troops to encircle and obstruct us, which would instead lose the opportunity for rescue."
"Your meaning?" At this moment, Major Horton spoke, "It can only be Parks?"
"At this point, he's probably the only one!" Sink nodded somewhat helplessly. "What Parks said just now makes a lot of sense. For those bureaucrats in the U.S. Army who haven't fought in wars, it's certainly not pleasant to hear, but it's the truth. Parks was very calm just now; he didn't eagerly try to take credit or talk about useless detailed plans."
Lieutenant Colonel Strayer and Major Horton both nodded. Sink's words made sense, and they thought the same. Keeping a clear head was more important than anything, and Parks also had the best performance in the battalion's training. Moreover, in the recent series of battles, the tactical proficiency he displayed definitely made him the ideal candidate for this operation.
"Major Horton, tell Lieutenant Winters to have Parks select his personnel as soon as possible. It can be done across the entire battalion, and all weapons and supplies they request will be unconditionally met!" Colonel Sink gave the order decisively. If this mission could succeed, he wouldn't mind promoting Parks' military rank.
After Parks came out, he had been in a bad mood. However, he didn't need to let it affect his appetite; he kept drinking and eating heartily, so much so that even Compton, who was usually ravenous, was a little wide-eyed.
"Has he always eaten that much?" Compton couldn't help but ask Welsh beside him.
Welsh looked at Parks, then quietly said to Winters, "Dick, he's definitely troubled. Didn't someone from the battalion headquarters come looking for him earlier? Did he get lectured by the battalion headquarters? Or is Colonel Sink displeased with him?"
Winters nodded, then walked over to Parks: "Full?"
"Hmm, almost!" Parks nodded.
"Shall we go for a walk?" Winters gestured towards the door.
Parks hesitated for a moment, then nodded, "Alright." With that, he followed Winters out of the hotel and they strolled down the street.
"Is it about the mission?" Winters asked.
Parks nodded, then shook his head, and sighed, "Dick, I don't know who Niland's mother is, and I don't care how she feels. To be honest, everyone has a mother, so why do we have to sacrifice our lives to save that kid? Even if we save that kid, why don't we, the people involved in the rescue, have the right to decide our own actions, and still have people from the U.S. Army pointing fingers and being overbearing? We fight and bleed on the battlefield, can't those so-called big shots show us a little respect?"
Parks vented all his grievances in one breath. Yes, he saw contempt in that Major's eyes, and that was something he couldn't tolerate. He couldn't tolerate an officer who had never been on the battlefield showing disrespect to him, who had risked his life on the battlefield, because that was also disrespect to his brothers.
"People from the U.S. Army?" Winters suddenly understood. It seemed those high-ranking guys really liked to meddle. No wonder Parks was in a bad mood. "What did Colonel Sink say?"
"I don't know! Dick." Parks stopped and looked at Dick. "I don't know his attitude. Maybe I can't carry out this mission. I'm sorry, this is my fault."
"No, no, that's not your problem!" Winters comforted him. "I know this is difficult, but whether it's ultimately you or not, we don't need to prove how great our Easy Company brothers are this way; we don't need to."
He saw Parks seemed a bit silent, patted his shoulder: "Alright, don't overthink it, even if it's not you, it's nothing. Let's go, the atmosphere of the banquet is really stifling, I can't stand it anymore!"
"Me too." Parks smiled faintly and walked with Winters towards the company headquarters. Actually, Parks just needed an outlet to vent, and his recent outburst served that purpose. Since D-Day, he had been under immense pressure, far greater than other officers and brothers, and it had finally accumulated to this day. If he didn't vent, problems would eventually arise. This was a psychological sensitivity he possessed as an agent.
Not long after Parks returned to the company headquarters, Captain Hawk from the battalion headquarters arrived. He relayed Colonel Sink's order, appointing Parks as the commander and full person in charge of this rescue operation.
After Captain Hawk left, Parks looked at Winters with a strange expression. He hadn't expected Colonel Sink to be able to stand up to the U.S. Army and specifically appoint him as the rescue leader.
"Looks like you can't escape!" Winters smiled wryly and shrugged at Parks.
Parks made a nonchalant gesture and smiled at Winters, "Looks like this is fate. Alright, Dick, I need to go pick out personnel. Can you give me some suggestions?"
Winters nodded, then pondered for a moment, "First, let's hear yours."
"Landers, Martin, Guarnere, White, Christenson, Shifty, Patrick Christenson, Talbert, Toy, Gordon, and Liebgott," Parks said. "That's all I can think of."
"What about Dukeman?" Winters suggested. "His shooting is quite good, and he's participated in many Easy Company battles. He's also a good choice."
"Hmm, then let's add him, but we don't need that many people," Parks suddenly seemed to remember something, "Christenson is already injured, so let's use Dukeman to replace him!"
Winters completely agreed with his selection of personnel; these were the elites of Easy Company, experienced: "Bring them back alive, Parks!"
Parks looked at his solemn expression and nodded gravely, "I know, Dick, don't worry!"