Capt. Ronald Speirs: Flash.
Pvt. Albert Blithe: Thunder, thunder. Lieutenant Spiers, sir.
Capt. Ronald Speirs: Where are you going, private?
Pvt. Albert Blithe: Check out the noise, sir.
Capt. Ronald Speirs: I just came from there. Everything's under control.
Pvt. Albert Blithe: Yes sir.
Capt. Ronald Speirs: You got some nervous privates in your company.
Pvt. Albert Blithe: We do, sir. Yeah we do. I can vouch for that.
Capt. Ronald Speirs: They just don't see how simple it is.
Pvt. Albert Blithe: Simple. What is, sir?
Capt. Ronald Speirs: Just do what you have to do.
Pvt. Albert Blithe: Like you did on D-Day, sir? lieutenant. Sir, when I landed on D-Day, I found myself in a ditch all ny myself. I fell asleep. I think it was... it was the air sickness pills they gave us. When I woke up I really didn't try to find my unit... to fight. I just... I just kinda stayed put.
Capt. Ronald Speirs: What's your name, trooper?
Pvt. Albert Blithe: Blithe, sir. Albert Blithe.
Capt. Ronald Speirs: You know why you hid in that ditch, Blithe?
Pvt. Albert Blithe: I was scared.
Capt. Ronald Speirs: We're all scared. You hid in that ditch because you think there's still hope. But Blithe, the only hope you have is to accept the fact that you're already dead, and the sooner you accept that, the sooner you'll be able to function as a soldier's supposed to function. Without mercy, without compassion, without remorse. All war depends on it.
Nixon: Harry... what exactly are you doing with your reserve chute? You've been hauling that thing around ever since we jumped.
Harry Welsh: Gonna send it back to Kitty when we get back to England. Silk. Figure it'll make a good wedding dress, you know. What with the rationing and all.
Nixon: [Chuckling] Jeez, Harry, I never would have guessed.
Harry Welsh: What? That I'm so sentimental?
Nixon: No, that you think we're gonna make it back to England.
Harry Welsh: I want light and noise discipline from now on. That means no talking, no smoking, and no playing grab-fanny with the man in front of you, Luz.
Mrs. Lamb: Oh... um... Private? Lieutenant Meehan' one of yours, isn't he ? I hope he hasn't forgotten his laundry.
Donald Malarkey: I'll take it.
Mrs. Lamb: You... um... you couldn't be a dear and help me with a few others, could you? Ah... let's see... Sergeant Evans... Private Moya... Blowzer... Gray... Miller... Owen... Collins... Elliot... Blithe.
SSgt. John Martin: Flash.
Harry Welsh: Thunder.
[referring to Germans singing across the field]
Harry Welsh: Catchy tune, ain't it?
SSgt. John Martin: Hey, Lieutenant. What's the news?
Harry Welsh: Oh, the same as it was this afternoon. They're in their hedgerow. We're in ours.
SSgt. John Martin: Spell me a minute sir.
Harry Welsh: You gonna let Blithe get some sack time?
SSgt. John Martin: My back teeth are floating.
Harry Welsh: Get back here ASAP, Martin.
SSgt. John Martin: You can count on me, sir.
Harry Welsh: How you doing, Blithe?
Pvt. Albert Blithe: I'm okay, sir.
Harry Welsh: What happened at the aid station today?
Pvt. Albert Blithe: Doc Roe, he called it hysterical blindness.
[Welsh offers blithe a drink from his canteen]
Pvt. Albert Blithe: No thank you, sir.
Harry Welsh: You know what they said in basic. Dehydration's a soldier's worst enemy.
Harry Welsh: It's a game, Blithe. That's all. We're just moving the ball forward one yard at a time. Nothing but a game.
Pvt. Albert Blithe: What is, sir?
Harry Welsh: This. The whole thing.
[offers Blithe another drink]
Pvt. Albert Blithe: No, thank you, sir.
Harry Welsh: Just a game.
Maj. Richard D. Winters: Hey, Harry.
Harry Welsh: How's the leg?
Maj. Richard D. Winters: Stiff. Sore. They want me to take it easy for a few days.
Harry Welsh: Yeah, you should.
Maj. Richard D. Winters: Talked to Colonel Sink. He said he appreciated Easy holding the line.
Harry Welsh: Hmmm.
Maj. Richard D. Winters: Said General Taylor was pleased.
Harry Welsh: Well, that's why I came to France. To please General Taylor.
Maj. Richard D. Winters: [sighs] Yeah.