Band of Brothers - Contraband Scene - Captain Sobel

Pornography. Contraband. Non-regulation clothing. Contraband. This man had 200 prophylactic kits in his foot locker. How in the name of God was he going to have the strength to fight the war? How is it private, private Tipper has spare time for so much correspondence? Captain, a personal letters to be considered contraband. These men aren't paratroopers yet, Lieutenant. They have no personal property. What is this? Anybody? It's a can of peaches, sir. Lieutenant Nixon thinks this is a can of peaches. That is incorrect, Lieutenant. Your weekend pass is canceled. This is United States Army property, which was taken without authorization from my mess facility, and I will not tolerate thievery in my unit. Whose foot locker is this? Private Park, sir. Get rid of him. All weekend passes are canceled, officers included. Carry on. Lieutenant Winters. Colonel Sink has seen fit to promote you. As first lieutenant, you'll serve as my executive officer. Congratulations. Thank you, sir. And as a test of your organizational skills and command potential, I am designating you mess officer for 14 days. Report to the mess kitchen at 0515 hours, company breakfast to be served at 0600. Yes, sir. Oh, and Dick, there's rain forecast tomorrow, so the company will have a light afternoon of lecture and classroom instruction. I think a special meal before their afternoon off would be a welcome change of pace. Would you agree? Yes, sir. I like spaghetti. This stuff is orange. Spaghetti ain't supposed to be orange. This ain't spaghetti. This is army noodles with ketchup. You ain't gotta eat it. O'Connery, as a fellow Italian, you should know that calling this crap spaghetti is a mortal sin. Then why not? No, no, no, I'm eating here. Hey, guys. What has changed? Get up. Lectures are canceled. Easy Company is running a curry. Move, move. Three miles up, three miles down. Hail silver. Let's go, let's go. Watch out, Private Hoogland. You should pack up those ears and go home. Looks like Gordon, son. Aren't you, Gordon? You finished? You do not deserve to get your wing. Private Randleman, you look tired. There's an ambulance waiting for you at the bottom of the hill. It can all be over right now. No more pain, no more curry, no more Captain Sobel. We fall upon the rises. We fall upon the rest. We never land upon our feet. We always hit our ass. Heidi, Heidi, Christ Almighty, who the hell are we? Zim, zam, goddam, we're airborne infantry. We fall upon the rises. We fall upon the grass. We never land upon our feet. We always hit our ass. Heidi, Heidi, Christ Almighty, who the hell are we? Zim, zam, goddam, we're airborne infantry.