Wearing that uniform with the screaming eagle on it, people knew two things about you: You were a damn good soldier- and half crazy. - Donald Malarkey

On New Year's Eve, I thought back to a year ago, Skip and I celebrating with the guys in England. Warm. Wild. All the food you could eat. Now, we sat in our foxholes and talked quietly. Then, with permission from Compton, just because we had ammo, we fired off six rounds of mortars to let the Germans know the worst was yet to come. A few days later, we were hunkered down when a jeep pulled up down the way, snow kicking up from its tires. It was Father Maloney. And who in the hell's with him but Joe Toye. Arm in a sling. Hadn't shaved since Adam was born. But there he was, walking across the field towards the front line. Winters saw him. "Where are you going?" he asked. "You don't have to go back to the lines." Toye looked at him. "Gotta get back with the fellas," he said. And he walked back to join the boys in Easy Company. Like the others, I just stood and watched in awe.

The previous July, two months after V-E Day, I was on a three-day pass and wound up in the "U" section of one of Hitler's stadiums in a city called Worms. In the morning, the head of the facility came to me, the ranking noncom, and asked us to come salute Patton, who was coming by for an inspection. At the appointed hour, we heard sirens. Motorcycles led Patton's staff car in, flags flying. His car stopped. I called our group to attention. Patton looked us over and said something about the 101st Airborne Division I'll never forget: "If I had two divisions of you bastards, I would have had the Germans blowing straws up their asses by Thanksgiving and you would have been home by Christmas."

I didn't cry after learning Skip Muck was dead. That would come later. Much later. Not that it didn't hurt. Hell, I'd never felt pain so deep. He was like my brother. No, closer than my brother. But by January 9, when he'd died in a shelling about one hundred yards east of where I was, I was too mentally numb to really react. Too tired. I didn't sleep a wink for two nights after Roe broke the news to me. And after seeing Toye and Guarnere carted off, and Compton leaving, it was like dumping ice on a guy who was already frozen stiff. But the main reason I didn't crumble at his death is I couldn't. That wasn't allowed. With Compton gone, I realized I had to step up and lead. After Guarnere went down, Winters had promoted me to permanent sergeant status. Now, Buck was gone. From day one, you're taught that the good of the whole is more important than just you. That you can't let your emotions get in the way of the task at hand. So like a doctor who deals with pain and death each day, you just bury it somewhere deep down inside, thinking it'll go away on its own.