Inside Colonel Phillips’ command tent in the Italian camp, the air is thick with tension. Phillips leans back, his face grim. “I can spell,” he says sharply. “I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count. But the name does sound familiar. I’m sorry.”

Steve Rogers, his jaw tight, presses forward. “What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?”

Phillips scoffs. “Yes, it’s called ‘winning the war.’”

“But if you know where they are, why not at least—” Steve starts, his voice urgent.

Phillips cuts him off, his tone hard. “They’re 30 miles behind the lines through some of the most heavily fortified territory in Europe. We’d lose more men than we’d save. But I don’t expect you to understand that because you’re a chorus girl.”

Steve’s eyes flash with resolve. “I think I understand just fine.”

“Well, then understand it somewhere else,” Phillips snaps, standing up and walking to a file box. “If I read the posters correctly, you got someplace to be in 30 minutes.”

Steve looks at a map on the wall, a pin with an “H” flag on it showing the location of the Hydra base. “Yes, sir. I do,” says Steve, leaving the tent.

Phillips points at Peggy Carter, without looking up from the file box. “If you have something to say, right now is…”