Two Italians jump into a foxhole. Ray's foxhole. Ray freaks out a little bit, momentarily thinks that he's mobbed by the mafia in some Godfather movie scene. But it's Gonorrhea and Midget. So Ray can calm himself.

"George told us. Is that true? You from future?"

"Like you motherfuckers will believe me."

"You won't lie for something that serious."

"So that's true?" Frank asks while he's preparing his toothbrush and toothpaste. Ray can't believe the sight.

"Really, Frank? You have to brush your fucking teeth right now?"

"We just eat! You must brush your teeth after you eat."

"Ray…focus...you from future?"

"Yeah…but do not…I repeat…do not tell anyone. I don't want they sent me to aid station for 'alleged hallucinating' and then they sentenced me with 'battle fatigue'" Ray use a lot of quotation mark with his hand within that sentence.

At this time, U.S. Army use the following flow chart: Soldier shows symptom of combat stress reaction - the soldier diagnosed with battle fatigue - the said soldier are accused for cowardice or attempts to avoid combat duty - the soldier will be tried by court-martial - the particular soldier's ass is fucked (metaphorically and probably literally). Even the notorious General Patton blatantly "forbade battle fatigue" in his Army.

Bill pats his shoulder "We got your back, buddy." Frank nods while brushing his teeth.

Bill's 'We got your back'…Brad's 'I got your six'… different words but has same meaning. Albeit Ray's apparent no filter between his brain and mouth, Ray always surrounded with people who support him unconditionally.

"Thanks, homes."

"Homes?"

"That's like 'buddy' or 'mate'. In the future we use 'homes', 'dawg', sometimes 'brah'"

"Sounds retarded." Frank finally finishes his brushing.

"Word to the motherfuckin' street, yo! It ain't retarded. It's fucking cool, man."

"You sound demented." Bill deadpanned.

"What-the fuck-ever, homes. So yeah I'm from the future. I'm Corporal Josh Ray Person of Marine Corps' 1st Reconnaissance Battalion. I was deployed in Iraq in 2003 when I was thrown in my Gramp's body. Ta daaa" Ray gestures the ta-daaa-hands.

"Then you can't call me midget! I'm your Gramp's friend! Show some fucking respect, kid!"

"Can you respect this midget while he got a fucking toothbrush surgically attached in his hand?" Ray asks Bill.

Bill appraised Frank for a moment then answers dryly "Good point."

They spend the rest of their limited free time talking bullshit and teasing Frank. But neither of them asks Ray about the outcome of the war, or worse, ask who will be dead. Because, honestly, Ray is freaking out about the future.

"Sergeant Person, you will accompany Capt. Nixon again for reconnaissance patrol tonight. Take two men to guard you."

"Yes, Sir. Can I ask why I should do this again, Sir? I'm not an S-2."

"Capt. Nixon speaks highly of your recon skill, Ray. I don't know how, but it looks like you have trained of this before. Your recon report two days ago contributes greatly for last night fight in the eastern line. We need your report before we move to the woods overlooking Foy."

Because I'm a motherfucking Recon Marine, Sir. Ooo-Rah! "Roger that, Sir"

"Ray, one more thing. Capt. Nixon considers transferring you to S-2. What do you think?"

"Permission to speak freely, Sir."

"Granted"

"Thank you, Sir. Not that I'm not grateful, but who will take care of my minion…Sorry, I mean…my men, Sir. If I can conclude from our recon patrols, we're planning to attack Foy anytime soon. With all due respect, I'm not confidence with our CO. Our officers are not experienced for this, Sir. Lt. Peacock can't even read the map. Lt. Shames keeps yelling like he's in some kind of war movie. You'll need all your experienced NCO to make this works. Thank you for Capt. Nixon's and your trust in me, Sir. But I will stay with my men. At least until you can kick Lt. Dike's ass...Sir"

Winters smiles "You're very… observant, Ray. But I trust you not to share your personal feelings to our men. They need morale boost. I'm sure you understand this. Just between you and me, we share the same…opinion…about our officers. I will pass your concern to Capt. Nixon. Thank you for your effort, Sergeant. That will be all."

"Yes, Sir"

"Oh…Sorry, Ray. One more thing. Who's turn for patrol this afternoon?"

"I think it's Hoobler, Christenson & Hashey's turn, Sir."

"Thank you, Ray. Tell the boys I'll join them for lunch."

Ray nods and salutes the Captain.

Winters looks weary. But at least Ray has told his concern. Ray knows Winters' hands are tied. Dike is a favorite of somebody at Division. Even if Easy has one experienced combat leader, Winters cannot replace Dike. The men now depended on the NCOs and only few capable officers. But even Buck shows some sign of 'weirdness' since he got shot in Holland. More serious and jumpy.

The morale of Easy Company has hit the all-time low. Constant shelling from the Krauts already gives several soldiers signs of PTSD (or shell shocked they said). Added with incapable officers and limited ammunition, Easy's confidence is deteriorating.

Two days later, Ray says quietly to Lipton on his side "Swear to God, Lip. If I see Dike yawning again, I'll shove my fucking boots and my used-ass-wipe to his fucking throat. Or maybe shove a cattle prod up to his ass so he can wake the fuck up for once. That son of a bitch mouth is like a fucking black hole; sucks everything around him, including hope."

Lipton tries to stifle his laugh. In Ray's other side, Buck's shoulder also shaking with barely-contained laughter. Bill, walking in front of him, lowers his head and shaking his head slowly. Ray can only see his back, but Ray is assured that Bill is grinning.

They are walking back from receiving Dike's "instruction for today", which is completely and utterly full of bullshit, according to Ray. What's the point of gathering Easy's officers and NCOs to announce that he will be "called away regularly to Battalion S3" and to use "as per usual" formation for the patrol? The fuck?! Ray wants to slap the lieutenant silly so the said asshole can make a decent command for once. The son of a bitch even didn't mention Hoobler's death.

Buck says in mock prayer "Dear Lord, give me strength to fight alongside this sorry excuse of a redneck."

"That's fucking hurt, LT. You prefer to follow Dike's bullshit command, than to fight alongside this death-dealing, blood-crazed warrior who wakes up every day just hoping for the chance to dismember my enemies and defile their civilizations. Okay then. Your loss."

"Ha! Warrior my ass…."

"Shut it, Bill! You're just jealous. My warrior aura can beat your skinny ass anytime."

"Ladies…please shut the fuck up. Just…do our job …okay?"

"Sorry Momma Lipton. Please don't spank me."

"Raaay"

"Okay…okay…you know…we're already idiots who volunteered to jump out of a perfectly good airplane, but going on combat patrol looking for a fight…it's the worst, I tell you."

"Yeah…well…it has to be done, Ray."

"At least we're moving and not in the fucking foxhole freezing our balls."

"Bill, I would rather freeze my balls off rather than risk my life doing patrol without any good plan. There is no valuable information and strategy from that motherfucker Mister Indecision. I have to conclude that the only Ivy Leaguers, who is not a dicksuck, is only Nixon."

"Save your bitching for later, Ray. Look, gents…We'll do anything we can. Okay? So here's the plan. We'll go to the east side of the wood through the logging road. Bill, your squad on the right. Lip's on left. Ray, you're center with me. Each squad will form a column of twos; send out two scouts on point. Call your squad. We're leaving in 5 minutes."

"Roger that, LT."

Ray walks toward his boys and whispers to himself "Here we go again. Move out. We're Oscar Mike."

"Ray, you're coming?"

"For what?"

"Don't you hear? Peacock's leaving. We're going 'congratulate' him." George use the quote sign when said congratulate.

"No shit! Really?"

"Yup. Nixon gave up his 30-days furlough to the States. He said that this will solve Easy's leadership problem by give it to other officer that Winters wants to remove."

"And they choose Peacock. Ooo…I wanna kiss Nixon."

"Yeah…get in the line."

"So we're saying farewell to Peacock now? Where?"

"CP. Come on now."

Ray and George walks to the CP. When they arrived, Peacock has been surrounded by the other officers and NCOs.

Bull taps Peacock's shoulder "Congratulations, Lt. Peacock. I can't think of anybody who deserves this more."

George grins "Really glad that you're going home". Ray declares that George should be nominated for Academy Award.

Christenson adds with "Best news I've ever heard in weeks. Hell of a guy."

Ray bites his tongue to prevent him laugh out loud. Seriously, Easy men are fucking great actors.

Peacock, completely misunderstanding, naïve and oblivious as usual, blushing and grins "Thanks, guys. I mean, it really means a lot, you know?"

Bull cuts him "Stop, get outta here. Three cheers to Lt. Peacock."

When they say three "Hip, hip, hooray" for Lt. Peacock, Ray can't stop a shit-eating-grin on his face.

After Peacock finally gone (Lt. Foley replaced him), Ray goes back to his foxhole but runs into Nixon and Winters. Both with their hand on their mouth, obviously holding back grins.

"With all due respect, Sir. But shame on you." Ray says to them, grinning ear to ear.

Nixon has the audacity to feign innocence and says "What did I do?", but his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Winters can't hold it anymore and openly laugh.

23 days in Normandy + 78 days in Holland + 15 days in Bastogne = 116 days of Easy Company had spent in the front line.

But the last 15 days in Bastogne is a test for everyone's endurance. Mentally and Physically. For some people, it's the last straw.

15 days of constant tension, sleep deprivation, limited ammunition, hunger and harsh winter.

Grim Reaper and Misery are feasting in Bastogne in the last 15 days.

And January 3rd 1945 is officially the worst day of Ray's fucked up life.

The worst thing of being shelled is the feeling of hopelessness. You can't do anything about it. Just make yourself as small as possible in your foxhole. If you made it to your foxhole. If the mortar does not directly fall to your foxhole. If the mortar does not blow up the trees above your foxhole and showered you with splinters and shrapnel so big, it can kill in instant. If you don't see you friend blown up in front of you.

And it all happened on January 3rd. It's the worst shelling Easy has endured in war so far.

Ray is familiar seeing dead body. Civilians and comrades alike. He had seen a little girl corpse without legs, another little girl corpse with a bullet hole in her head and a headless man in the middle of Baghdad road. But all those time, he's able to convince himself that those corpses are inevitable victim of war; collateral damage that has no relationship whatsoever with him.

But when he heard Buck's desperate scream for Medic and then saw Joe Toye's and Bill Guarnere's mangled bodies in front of him, his mind goes blank with unexplainable pain. They are not just comrades. They are his brother.

Both are still alive, but most likely they'll lose their legs.

Bill holds his shattered legs and says "Hey, Lip. They got Ol' Guarnere this time. And what did you said before, Ray…FUBAR? I'm FUBAR now, right?"

Ray's voice is hoarse when he finally has the strength to talks "You are FUBAR BUNDY, homes. Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition, But Unfortunately Not Dead Yet."

Bill manages a shaky laugh "I'll see you in States, buddy. Maybe our grandchildren can hang out together sometimes." And the badass Italian fucking winks.

A wounded soldier consoles a perfectly fine soldier.

Ray desperately fights the urge to cry. He vaguely feels George's hand in his shoulder.

"He's gonna be okay Ray. You're gonna be okay. You will go back home alive. And you know why I'm assured of this."

Ray nods. Perfectly understand he will go back home alive, but he will not be a man he was before.