It was freezing out in the woods. The ground where the foxholes were dug and tents were set up were covered in snow and ice, leaving everything around them with a sparkling sheen. Winters and Nixon were in their tent, and Winters was concentrating on his strategy plan to capture a German prisoner (who was needed for information), while Nixon quietly watched, taking occasional sips from his flask. The only sounds penetrating their tent were the muffled voices of men from Easy Company outside, and Nixon's occasional comment. Winters let out a sigh, set his pencil down, and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. This was more difficult than he thought it would be. The clock ticked by slowly as his thoughts continued to run circles in his mind, every possibility and worst-case scenario being played out in his head. Winters closed his eyes, trying to focus on the task at hand. But his mind was heavy with worry for his men's safety and fatigue from the long, cold nights. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, staring at the blank paper in front of him. The silence weighed heavily in the tent.