Leggett attempts to get word on the radio. Leggett: Kickoff, Fox Three, can you hear, over? Hartsock: So we're supposed to kill them all before they finish breakfast. Say, what do you suppose Krauts eat for breakfast anyway? Sausage? Toast? Garnett gets hit by pigeon turds. Garnett: Oh, goddamn it! Hartsock: Cold glass of blood? Leggett: Sarge, I can't get anyone on this thing. We're fucked. Mac: All right, same plan as before. Hartsock, you're with Baker. The Krauts know we're here, so go say hello the Airborne way. Allen: You mean shoot them? Mac: Yes, obviously, Private Allen. Garnett: Hang on!