One minute he was there, half-asleep, the next he was sailing off the end of the pier like a drunken trapeze artist. Dick Winters’ mouth dropped open in surprise as Lewis Nixon did a Flying W right into the drink. Boots, jacket, the whole kit and caboodle. He disappeared under the water with a mighty splash.
The major stood knee-deep in the shallows, towel wrapped around his shoulders like a shawl, staring.
Nixon surfaced with a shriek and a sputter. “J-JESUS CHRIST IT’S FREEZING!”
Winters’ laughter echoed across the lake with his best friend’s screams.
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