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If anyone were to ask Carwood Lipton what his proudest moment serving in Easy Company was, he'd readily answer it was receiving his battlefield commission and being made a lieutenant.
The snag is, that isn't completely true.
That's not to say Lipton isn't proud of his promotion. He is. Being presented with those papers by Winters was one of the brightest moments of the war for him. It just isn't the one he's proudest of.
The one he's proudest of he's never told another soul. Those that know were there and they're the only ones who need to know.
Shortly after word of Nixon's demotion got around Lipton found himself hunting down Major Winters. He knew what he had to say wasn't his place. Hell, he wasn't even sure if the suspicions he had about the two men were even founded. All he was going on was a gut feeling, some heated looks, and a lot of hesitate touches between the two, but what he knew was he respected the two men, and someone needed to say something.
He found the major on the way to the CP and after saluting asked him if he had a moment.
Winters stopped walking and gave him his full attention. He asked him if something was wrong.
Lipton shook his head, "No, sir, I just…I need to talk to you about something."
Winters looked uneasy at the prospect, "About what?"
Lipton hesitated for a moment. He watched the group of MPs on the other side of the street, before he said, "About Captain Nixon, sir."
"What about Captain Nixon," Winters asked. Lipton wasn't sure, but his voice seemed a tad defensive.
Lipton managed to meet Winters eyes and he held them, "I…well permission to speak freely, sir?"
"You all ready are," Winters replied and gestured to continue. "What about Captain Nixon?"
Lipton took a deep breath, "I think I might know something to help him with his drinking, sir."
Winters raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, "And what would that be, Lipton?"
"You should tell him that you know, sir," Lipton said slowly, thinking hard about what he was saying.
"That I know?" Winters echoed.
"Yes," Lipton nodded, "That you know and….and that you do too."
Winters lips quirked into an ironic smile and he asked, "What is it I know, Lieutenant?"
Lipton mirrored his crooked smile, "Oh, you know, sir."
Winters shook his head, "I don't think I do."
"Just tell him," Lipton suggested again. "It might help."
Winters didn't answer, just shook his head again, but he was still smiling that tiny crooked grin as he walked away.
Lipton wondered if he'd been too vague, but he felt he'd risked enough boundaries saying what he had all ready. To just come out and say it wasn't his place.
He wasn't even sure anything had come of it at first. Either Winters had ignored his suggestion, or he had listened and Nixon hadn't responded. It gnawed at him for a while until he saw the two of them together again. Nixon was free with his touches to Winters, and Winters still easy smiles for Nixon and Nixon alone. Nixon's drinking hadn't stopped, but it settled back into the background where it belonged. Lipton couldn't really say if it was because of his exchange with Winters, the two didn't behave all that differently, but it didn't really matter to Lipton so long as the men he respected were still okay.
It had honestly faded to the back of his mind until they reached Austria. It was in Austria that he returned to the room he'd been billeted in to find a bottle of 1914 French Cabernet Sauvignon. There was a note attached. Nixon's scribbled handwriting read: "Apparently I owe you at least a drink."
Written below in a much neater and precise hand it simply said, "Thank you."
Lipton wasn't much of a drinker but it was probably the best bottle of wine he'd ever drink.
Carwood Lipton was proud of his battlefield promotion, but he left the war far more satisfied knowing that he'd had a hand in creating something that couldn't be measured in medals or symbols of rank, and would live on long after such objects had rusted and tarnished.