In the rain-soaked Italian camp, Steve Rogers looks at Peggy Carter, his voice tinged with frustration.

“…serving my country. I finally got everything I wanted, and I’m wearing tights.” His gaze shifts as injured soldiers limp into camp, their faces gaunt. “They look like they’ve been through hell.”

Peggy’s expression darkens. “These men more than most. Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano. Two hundred men went up against him, and less than 50 returned. Your audience contained what was left of the 107th. The rest were killed or captured.”

Steve’s eyes widen. “The 107th?”

“What?” Peggy asks, catching his urgency.

“Come on,” Steve says, already moving.

They reach Colonel Phillips’ command tent. Steve steps inside. “Colonel Phillips.”

Phillips looks up. “Well, if it isn’t the Star-Spangled Man With A Plan,” says Phillips. “What’s your plan today?”

“I need the casualty list from Azzano,” Steve says, his voice firm.

Phillips glares. “You don’t get to give me orders, son.”

“I just need one name,” Steve presses. “Sergeant James Barnes, from the 107th.”

Phillips points at Peggy, his tone sharp. “You and I are gonna have a conversation later that you won’t enjoy.”

Steve leans forward, desperate. “Please tell me if he’s alive, sir. B-A-R—”