Disclaimer: it all belongs to Tarantino. Nicht mir! Oh- and the lyrics used in the chapter titles comes from Last Exit by Pearl Jam.

They had only been roaming for two days, and already they were whining about the girls back home. Well, the recruits were, over in the clearing. Donny didn't know what Raine was up to, didn't care much either. Probably smoking somewhere, burning down trees with those cigarettes.

Wicki was watching them all and smirking, shaking his head. "I had a French girl once, from Paris." he boasted as he cleaned his knife. "Lucienne. Beautiful, sophisticated, intelligent."

"Pfft, the French." Hirschberg waved a hand. "My girl's from my hometown. Wants to be a doctor, she says, a doctor! She ain't no dimwit, she's gonna make a name for herself. Gonna marry her when I get home."

Donny listened to them from his position in the tree, their voices faint, yet still recognizable. He was watching, watching for- what did Raine call them?- Krauts. Nazis. Raine was going easy on the new guys, he knew it. He felt absurd up in this tree; he was a city boy, after all. What kind of city boy takes hikes and climbs trees in his free time?

"The kind under Aldo Raine." he muttered, spitting and watching it fall to the muddy French ground. Patches of grass had sprung up here and there, but it was mostly mud and rocks and some moss. He'd made an idiot of himself, sliding all over the place while the rest of the guys had trekked easily through the element. And Donny was pretty sure he heard Raine and Omar laughing about something involving the Yanks.

He had stretched out a knee until he heard its satisfying crack when Sakowitz came stumbling over the hill to the clearing, tripping over himself as he found Raine. He was mouthing something that Donny couldn't hear. Raine nodded and turned to him then, waving him down impatiently.

"Got us a couple of Germans over that hill there. About twenty to thirty. With that I reckon three, four scalps a man. Now, y'all listen to me, none of you is fucking this up.."

Donny's jaw clenched. He wish he had his baseball bat

Donny eyed the group from his spot; he was thankful for the tall grass, the trees that sheltered the silhouettes of his comrades, because he sure as shit wasn't painting his face with mud. The Krauts were speaking quickly, laughing as they cleaned their rifles.

This was going to be a damn good time.

They didn't see Wicki when the bullet hit one of the men, a beefy blonde. They had looked around at each other, wide-eyed. In that moment, Donny knew they were new at this, a bunch of fresh recruits just like the men that were around him.

Difference was, they were ready. These Krauts were hesitating a mere moment too long.

As Donny finally stood and took aim, he felt a little like he should have some epic music swelling behind him, just like in the movies. But as he tumbled down the hill, one of the Nazis missing him by inches, he remembered this shit was real. His adrenaline was pumping, more than the time he and his buddies made a home run cycle against O'Reilly and his boys, someone call the newspapers because this shit never happens not even with the big guys, boys we are gonna be fuckin' famous after this! He saw guys falling, this was too easy but he didn't mind, get a couple of scalps and leave 'em behind for their buddies to find and they'll be shitting their pants, Donny had three down, ninety-seven to go...

He was sweaty and disgusting and covered in mud, so Donny supposed the whole face painting didn't matter, it was on him anyway. He whirled around, clutching his Garand to his chest, when out of the corner of his eye he saw another Kraut, crawling on the ground, trying to look dead but it wasn't working. Take a couple of steps, give the guy a little credit, make it look like he's doing something right...

Donny turned quickly on his heel, aimed the Garand right for the German's face, fired. He swore under his breath and reeled back as the man took cover under one of his dead buddies and shot without pause. "What the hell is your problem, mama not love you enough?" he shouted. This man said nothing, only snarled at Donny's babble before his shoulders jerked back, mouth transforming in a gape. He dropped his rifle on the face of the corpse and staggered up right, pulling out a handgun and fired one shot behind him, one at Donny.

Idiot! Donny wanted to laugh, wanted to throw down the Garand and collapse on the ground laughing at the ignorance of this new recruit as he aimed once more, get it right Donny make papa proud, and squeezed the trigger and now the guy was writhing around on the ground screaming bloody murder.

Too easy, Donny thought, as he sauntered up to the man and gazed down at him. He couldn't hide his grin, finish this guy off, finish the murderer off, and Donny lifted the Garand high and brought it down like an axe, over and over again, smashing the man's face into bits. Blood mixed with the grime on the stolen uniform, brains and other parts that Donny barely recognized splattered around him. Things were silent, everyone was watching Donowitz go crazy on this guy, but his blood was pumping so hard he barely noticed...

"Gehrig ain't foolin' no one this is the World Series-" lifted the rifle high again and shot into the air- "gonna shit them Cardinals up bad and the park is goin' nuts and-"

An arm around his neck in a grip, another hand pulled the Garand away. Donny struggled, "Fucking Krauts aren't taking me, get off me dammit, get off of me right now!"

"Calm down, Donowitz." Raine hissed in his ear. "What if there are more Krauts around, what we gonna do, huh?" he released his sergeant, who stumbled and whirled around on Raine. Donny blinked a couple of times, the ringing in his ears subsiding, his breathing hard. He looked around; everyone was staring silently, unmoving.

"Get your scalps." Raine called to them, and there was shuffling, yet still no words exchanged. Raine glanced back at Donowitz, who was fumbling for his knife. "All right there, sergeant?"

Donowitz said nothing as he bent down and sliced off the hair of the Nazis around him. He heard Raine's boots slipping over the mud near him, the Garand thrown down at his side. Donny extended his arm for Raine to take the scalp. "Take it, I don't want to hold this scum much longer." he muttered. Raine did so, the boots sloshing away, towards the other men.

When Donny looked up, he saw Raine regarding him silently, the scalp still in his hand.