Will Knott: I'm not exactly sure what country we're in. Could be Belgium, Luxembourg, France, or even Germany. I don't know what day it is. I have no watch, so I don't know what time it is. I'm not even sure of my name. The next thing you know, they'll be making me a general. Bud Miller: You trust these fuckin' Nazis, Stan? Older German Soldier: [in German] Who are you calling Nazis? We're not Nazis! We're the German Army! Will Knott: Griffin was a mortician in civilian life, and he seemed to be spending most of his military life producing work for his army counterparts. Will Knott: It's thanks to Griffin and his military mortuary skills that I've made my recent headlong leap to three stripes. We lost half our squad, attempting one of his map-inspired, ill-conceived recon patrols. When I say 'lost', I mean 'killed'. Nobody in the army ever admits that someone on our side is killed. They're either lost, like Christopher Robin... hit, as in a batter hit by a pitched ball... or they get 'it' like in hide-and-go-seek. Or maybe they 'get it', as with an ambiguous joke.