Original subtitles

♪

♪

It's only Grey Bull.

How, Schmidt.

You ain't been around much.

Hey, I heard you been having big doings at the Agency, huh?

I bet you had yourselves a time.

I'll bet I know what you want.

Some of that home-brew of mine, right?

Well, I'd say that's what friends are for.

Maybe I could spare a couple... Couple of bottles.

♪

Turner, if you made the brand hotter

and you kept it on the calf a shorter time,

wouldn't it make a better brand

and be less painful for the calf?

You ever brand cows in England, Colonel?

Well, no, I can't say that...

Well, then let's make a deal.

You tell me when to brand 'em, not how.

- I've been branding these... - I know, I know.

Your first brand was the NA.

- NA? - Noah's Ark.

All halt.

Rest easy.

- Colonel MacKenzie? - Oh, well, hardly, sir.

Colonel MacKenzie is marking stock.

Well, I'd like to speak to him, please.

- Official Army business. - Of course, sir.

If you'll wait by his tent, I'll bring him.

Looks like your command could do with a nice hot drink.

It could, and so could I.

I'll see to it myself. This way please, sir.

Sir? It seems we have the Army.

Yes, so I've noticed, Parker.

The young Lieutenant would like a word with you, sir.

That's the story of my life, young lieutenants.

Oh, Turner?

You think you can possibly manage without me?

Go on, boy.

Gracious me.

Look at all of them there soldier boys.

My goodness, that mean old officer of yours

take you away from that nice warm fort, huh?

Looky here, soldier boy.

You got dust on that there shine.

Now, you know better than that.

The first one of you who shoots that man

will be dealt with severely.

Gentlemen, I have a nice pot of hot coffee,

and I might be able to produce a sandwich or two.

Any takers?

We never turn down anything free, sir.

And our thanks to you.

Splendid.

O'Connor, Park! Take care of the mounts.

Would you follow me to the field kitchen, please?

- Lieutenant. - Sir.

- Come in, sit down. - Thank you, sir.

- Can I offer you a drink? - Thank you.

Ah, this is rather spartan quarters.

Oh, this is luxury, Lieutenant.

Some of the places I've been in the world, this is luxury.

- Thank you. - What can I do for you?

Oh...

That's Scotch whiskey.

The soldier's best friend.

Sir?

Why don't you do what the Highlanders do?

You drink enough of that and you eat enough haggis

and you'll be man enough to take on the world.

Didn't answer my question, Lieutenant.

Oh, yes of course.

First of all, my commanding officer, Colonel Harmon,

made a particular point of my passing on his greetings to you.

Well, thank you.

We understand that you commanded an English regiment.

British regiment.

To be precise, the 16th Lancers.

Lancers?

Yes, light cavalry.

Oh, Africa or someplace like that,

wasn't it, where your outfit was?

India.

Oh.

I'm afraid I'm not doing very well, am I, Colonel?

Well, it doesn't matter.

Don't worry.

I'm not an expert on the American Army.

We're 5th Cavalry, you know.

We're the finest regiment in the Army.

Why, we date back, oh, way before the war.

What war, Lieutenant?

The late war, the war of the cessation,

the, uh... the last war.

Well, I'm glad to see you're proud of your regiment,

because I was proud of mine, too.

How long have you been with the 5th Cavalry?

Almost five years.

- Five years. - Yes, sir.

Well, I was 25 years in the field with mine.

By the time I retired, I got the feeling

I was just beginning to know them.

Everything satisfactory, Sergeant?

You got a Colleen and a nip of Irish whiskey,

- I may never leave. - Splendid.

My name's Parker.

Terence Mulcahy, F troop,

5th Calvary, Fort Laramie, Mr. Parker.

Mulcahy. Mulcahy.

Don't I know you, Sergeant Mulcahy?

Not to my knowledge. Have you ever been in Ireland?

Never. Have you ever been in England?

- Never. - Oh.

India, perhaps.

Now what would a man like meself be doing in India?

Possibly the same thing you're doing here.

A soldier I am, Mr. Parker, but a fool I'm not.

Your coffee's very good.

Ghost dancers?

Sort of a religious movement

going on among the northern tribes.

They seem to think that the spirits

of their warrior ancestors will come back

and help drive the white man out.

Oh, I see.

Well, there was the same kind of superstitions

among some of the more primitive tribesmen

on the northern frontier in India.

Yes, well, the thing is, they're making big medicine.

See, each ghost dancer gets a medicine bag

full of, oh, all kinds of nasty little things.

And as long as they wear these medicine bags,

why, they're completely invulnerable to bullets,

and they really believe this.

You know, Lieutenant, I think your problem

is a defeated, desperate people clutching at straws.

It's not a red Indian characteristic.

It's a human characteristic.

I don't think there's too much to worry about.

Well, we don't think so either, really, but, well,

a week ago, a couple small bands of young Indian braves

left the reservation with their amulets.

By now, they've lifted five scalps that we know of,

and now they're heading in this general direction.

Hmm.

A word with you, sir.

This MacKenzie who owns the ranch,

tell me about him.

The Colonel? Sure.

Colonel? Colonel MacKenzie.

Yeah, he was in the English army.

You know, I didn't know that they had an army

after Washington whooped 'em, but he was in it, India.

As far as a boss, though, he's the best.

Imagine that now.

India.

Offer you another one, Lieutenant?

No, sir, one's enough for me.

Well, I'll tell you,

I've got 32 men working for me at Shiloh,

and they're all very capable of looking after themselves.

I have no doubt, Colonel, it's just that we'd like

to recommend that they go about their duties in small groups.

We're giving the same warning all the ranchers in this area.

All right, all right, I'll give the order.

We don't think they'll get this far.

At first we thought they were headed for Canada,

but then they swung back south.

Colonel MacKenzie! Colonel!

We've got an awful mess up at the north flats, Colonel.

What kind of a mess?

Ten prime heads slaughtered. Injuns.

Are you sure?

I said so, didn't I? Pony tracks all right.

Couple of head had arrows in 'em.

They didn't even butcher them for eating, Colonel,

just cut them down and rode off.

- Go on, get yourself some hot coffee. - Thanks.

I thought I knew Indians. Stealing cattle, certainly.

Butchering one or two of them for food?

It happens all the time, but a thing like this.

It's a pretty good battle tactic, Lieutenant,

if you're planning an all-out war.

Russians did the same thing to Napoleon.

You give them a little too much credit, Colonel.

Yeah, and you don't give them enough credit.

Don't forget one thing, Lieutenant, Indians are man,

and men, well, they're pretty much the same all over.

No, they just slaughtered those cattle

as a pure gesture of defiance, that's all.

Colonel, take my advice.

These murderous savages we're dealing with out here

are nothing like the tribesmen you fought in India.

Oh, yes, they are, in all the most important ways,

but it takes a long time to realize that.

I'm afraid you're gonna have them all killed off

before you do.

Anyway, will you give my respects to Colonel Harmon?

Tell him I'll drop by for the a visit

- next time I'm near the fort. - I shall, sir.

Parker, was I as self-important

and serious when I was his age?

Never, sir.

Well, rarely, sir.

You are getting tactless in your old age.

Colonel, there's something rather strange, sir.

What?

The sergeant, would you mind taking a look at him, sir?

- Sergeant? - Forward ho!

But it's impossible. Baxter's dead.

10 years ago, dead.

Yes, sir, and that one's a sergeant in the American Army,

and yet I'll wager everything I own in the world

that we're standing here watching...

Watching...

Watching the long-dead Lieutenant Patrick Baxter

of the 16th Lancers ride out of Shiloh Ranch.

Come on, this isn't your mother's farm you're working on.

What do you men think you're doing?

Would you tell me that?

Are you looking for something?

Look around, Parker, huh? Ask some questions.

Keep away from Mulcahy if you see him.

I don't want to frighten him away.

- Of course, sir. - Hmm.

Alfredson.

Do your old Sergeant a favor

and go saddle up his horse, if you please.

I just remembered a thing I must do.

Yes, sir.

Colonel, MacKenzie!

Well, this is an overdue pleasure.

- Yes, thank you. - Sit down, sit down.

Long ride from Shiloh.

- Yeah. - Like a drink?

Oh, I'd be delighted.

I know that we're not as eminently civilized

as your regiments in India are, Colonel,

but our posts on the frontier are not permanent.

To your health and to the military life.

Well, that's rather a contradiction in terms, but...

Mmm.

What about Sergeant Mulcahy?

That's what I'm asking you.

Best sergeant in the regiment,

which makes him the best sergeant in the U.S. Army.

Mm-hmm.

Why?

You know about his, uh.. Background?

Sergeant Major!

Yes, sir.

Will you bring me the service record file

on Sergeant Mulcahy?

Tell Lieutenant Dorn to report to me at once.

Yes, sir.

Baxter! Lieutenant Baxter!

Lieutenant Baxter!

Sergeant Mulcahy leaving the fort.

Right.

Terence Mulcahy,

born County Kerry, Ireland, 1853.

Father was so-and-so, so-and-so, so-and-so.

Ah, arrived in this country and enlisted in the Army

and in this regiment 10 years ago.

If I may add, he holds the Congressional Medal of Honor

among other commendations.

He's the best soldier I ever saw.

In your entire career in the Army, Lieutenant?

I have done some soldiering, Colonel.

When old Shannon retires,

Mulcahy will become the new Sergeant Major

of this regiment after only 10 years.

That's an accomplishment worthy of note.

May I ask the Colonel specifically

why he's interested in Sergeant Mulcahy?

Well, I may know him under another name.

I only caught a glimpse of him at Shiloh the other day,

but my batman spoke to him, and he swears he's the man.

What man? Tell us more.

All right.

About 10 years ago,

my regiment was fighting the Batans

on the northern frontier in India.

I had a young, very young lieutenant in my command,

Patrick Baxter.

Anglo-Irish, Sandhurst, very old family,

history of regimental service 100 years old,

all that sort of thing.

Now this Patrick Baxter led a patrol into the field.

He was ambushed by the tribesmen,

fought them to the last man, wiped out.

In consequence of course, both he and the patrol

rank rather high on our regimental list of honors.

And you think that Mulcahy was a member of this patrol?

Oh, he was more than a member.

He was in command.

You see, he's Baxter.

Well, doesn't the British Army count

and identify their dead, Colonel?

Well, when it's possible, Lieutenant.

It's rather difficult to count heads

when there aren't any heads.

You see, the Batans leave a rather messy battlefield.

Look, there is one way we could solve your curiosity.

Lieutenant, why don't you bring Sergeant Mulcahy in here?

Yes, sir.

He's a fine young officer, Colonel,

very protective of his men.

Yes, so I've noticed.

Suppose Sergeant Mulcahy is your man,

what do you propose to do about it?

He has four more years of his present enlistment to go.

He has broken no laws in this country,

far from it.

He's served the United States exceedingly well.

And this Army and this regiment,

my regiment, Colonel MacKenzie.

And you will find that I, too,

am very protective of my men.

And you are, after all, a civilian.

Yes, I became a civilian, Colonel Harmon,

because I was fed up with military red tape,

and I have no intention of letting it stand in my way now.

Oh, Colonel...

why don't we agree to disagree, hmm?

At least while we're waiting.

Very well.

Isn't it rather late in the day for an Indian uprising?

I don't believe it's an uprising yet,

just a band of braves letting off steam.

We thought they're headed for Canada.

The Canadians are a lot friendlier

to their aborigines than we are,

but they fooled us and swung back down here,

where they burned out a settlement

and shot up a camp of sheepherders over here,

and I have no idea where they're gonna come next.

Sooner or later,

they'll have to return to the reservation

to show off their scalp collection.

You don't seem overly worried.

I'm not happy about it.

Having to small find a small band

in a land this size?

What does worry me

is what will happen when they come back.

I'm afraid...

I'm afraid I don't understand.

Well, I think it's a test of their big medicine,

their magic.

If these raids are successful,

every young Sioux and Blackfoot

from Minnesota to the mountains

will be putting on ghost dance amulets

and heading out after scalps.

Mulcahy seems to have left the fort, sir.

- On whose authority? - I can't seem to find out.

But of course, he might've just gone into town.

Yeah.

I tried to intercept him, Colonel,

but he was off before I could reach him.

- Tell the sentry where he was going? - No, sir.

Apparently he left on a personal errand of some sort.

It wouldn't be at all surprised.

Obviously, he saw us arrive.

That proves nothing, Mackenzie.

It does to me.

Mulcahy's past is no concern of mine.

If you want an official inquiry,

I'll be happy to pass your request

along to the War Department.

And give your precious sergeant all the time he needs

- to get out of the country? - Mulcahy is no deserter.

He'll be back in the requisite time.

He was running from me. You know it as well as I do!

He won't be back, and in my Army,

that makes him a deserter.

I don't know what you're getting so upset about.

The incident you spoke of took place over 10 years ago!

You're not in the British Army now!

You're a rancher, and you're behaving

- as if it's a personal matter! - It is.

Patrick Baxter was in command of that patrol,

but his second in command was a very young,

green lieutenant named Donald MacKenzie,

my kid brother.

Now, wouldn't you say that made it a personal matter?

- Did you manage? - Quite well, sir.

Rations, cold-weather clothing, everything you asked for.

You are a talented man, Parker.

Oh, not talent, sir,

years of experience bribing supply sergeants.

I'm sure he's gonna head for the coast, Astoria.

He'll try and pick up a ship there.

Now either he'll take the pass at Freemont

or over the mountains at Lovelace.

Lovelace is the easier.

And Fremont is quicker. He'll know I'll be after him.

Look, you stay here, keep your eyes open, huh?

Maybe he'll try and give me the slip and double back.

And if you do catch Baxter, sir?

- I'll deliver him here. - Of course, sir.

This time of year there may be early snow in the mountains.

Yeah.

Won't be worse than the Himalayas.

I wouldn't put that on for a minute or two, sir,

until you're well away from the fort.

It's one of the Colonel's.

Parker.

Mulcahy didn't desert, sir. He'll be back.

Of course.

He probably just rode into town. Maybe there's a woman.

Mm-hmm.

He's always been a great one for women.

He'll be back in time.

If he isn't, post him, Lieutenant.

Yes, sir.

♪

Big fella, black hair, black eyes, a scar on his cheek.

- You see him? - No.

You sure? You didn't see him? He didn't go up this way?

Thank you.

You mean Mulcahy.

Yes, Sergeant Mulcahy.

Went by here like a scalded calf.

First time he ever passed a saloon that I know of.

Did you talk to him?

Well, I yelled at him.

He just waved at me and kept moving.

Wanted ask him about them Injuns I keep hearing about.

Oh, these ghost dancers?

Injuns is Injuns.

They killed old man Twambe and his wife

up along Wild Onion Creek the other day.

Folks around here are getting real scared.

Which way was he heading?

Straight for the mountains.

Fremont Pass?

Well, if he went on that far, maybe.

I'll tell you one thing,

if he is heading for Fremont Pass

and he goes over as fast as he came by here,

he's gonna skid right on down into Oregon.

Thank you, sir. Goodbye.

♪

Mr. Parker.

You can no longer stay here.

Why not, sir?

This is government property.

Although it's a source of constant dismay to me, sir,

I happen to be a taxpayer of that government,

and I'm here on government business.

Government business is our business,

Parker, not yours.

Colonel MacKenzie is in pursuit of a deserter from your army.

Since you appear to be doing nothing about that, I shall.

- Now, if Baxter... - Sergeant Mulcahy!

Whatever his name, sir, if he does return,

I shall be waiting for him.

You've received your orders to leave this post, Parker.

You may force me to do so, sir, in which case,

I shall set up outside your gate.

I merely thought that by remaining inside,

out of sight of the general public,

I was being... discreet, sir.

However, if you wish me to move...

You may remain if you wish.

How long do you plan to stay?

Till Colonel MacKenzie tells me to leave.

Mr. Parker, we have already posted

Sergeant Mulcahy as a deserter.

We can do no more than that.

No doubt, sir, but Colonel MacKenzie can.

♪

Yah!

It's no good, old timer.

We gotta get out of this.

I know a place where we can hole up.

You take him.

What in blazes is wrong with you?

You could've bagged the both of them.

We don't fight this war according to Sandhurst rules!

You show them heathen a stiff British upper lip

and they'll cut it off and hang it on a totem stick!

Well now, Sergeant Mulcahy.

How did you know I was a Sandhurst man

since I haven't spoken one word to you?

You stink of Sandhurst.

Better let me have a look at that.

Keep your hands off me leg.

Won't be the first time I've done it myself.

That's a very acceptable Irish brogue

you have there, Lieutenant Baxter.

You don't have to waste it on me.

Me name's Terence Mulcahy, Sergeant of the line,

5th cavalry, United States Army.

No doubt it is for the moment.

We'll talk about that later.

The only thing well have time to talk about

is how to get out of this thing alive.

♪

You put on a couple of pounds.

That's natural after 10 years.

You need a shave.

The Lieutenant Baxter I knew, he didn't even own a razor.

Didn't need one.

He didn't have that scar, either.

Did the Batans do that to you?

I don't know what you're talking about, MacKenzie.

16th Lancers, Baxter.

I said my name's Terence Mulcahy,

County Kerry be born, and you can take

your pretty public-school accent and go to hell.

Mm, well, under the circumstances,

if I'm to go to hell,

I suspect it'll be in your company.

Aye. We got a small problem.

Ten of them to start, I make it,

and you bagged two, maybe another.

That leaves at least seven or eight,

and I got a hole in me upper leg

and a smashed bone in me lower.

You've still got your hair.

That I have, but it ain't gonna help me run.

You like to run, don't you, Baxter?

Why don't you just keep your mouth shut

about things you're ignorant of, McDougall?

MacKenzie, Baxter.

Mulcahy, MacKenzie.

Colonel Mackenzie, Baxter, your colonel.

Are you sure you're feeling all right, Mr. MacKenzie?

'Cause you're no colonel of mine.

We'll see to that.

We'll see nothing.

Our gentle playmates out there'll see to that.

Are you so frightened of them?

Frightened?

Why, you horse-faced...

"Frightened" may not be the precise word.

Let's just say they worry me.

Yes.

I read somewhere that the American Indian

doesn't attack at night.

All depends on your Injun. Some will, some won't.

Ordinarily, those out there won't.

Why?

They figure their spirits won't be able

to find their way to heaven in the dark.

The dark only works when they think

there's a chance they might be killed.

These think they won't be?

Ghost dancers.

The stinking little bags around their necks

will protect them from bullets.

It's not very logical. We've shot a few already.

Oh, they simply didn't have enough faith.

They broke a rule, weakened the amulets.

A dozen reasons.

Maybe one of them went with a squaw

during purification ceremonies, broke a taboo.

Who knows why.

It's always the other one who gets killed or shot,

and it's always because of something wrong they did, clear?

Yeah.

I'm familiar with primitive superstition.

So you think that these Indians will attack at night, huh?

They'll attack, and when they do,

we'll have to try to kill them.

Dying will come as a great surprise to them, no doubt,

but that's the only way we'll stop them.

That's a pity. I'm sick of killing.

You maybe wouldn't think so if you have any idea

what they do with captives.

I have an idea.

It's one of the reasons why I'm here,

to find out why regimental hero...

Regimental hero...

Patrick Baxter of the 16th Lancers

is not buried in India in an honorable grave.

And why he left five of his own men

to take three days dying under torture so horrible

it doesn't even bear thinking about.

I don't know what kind of a lie you're fabricating, Mackenzie,

but I'm liable to kill you for it.

Careful, Sergeant. You're losing your accent.

Never mind me accent! I want an explanation!

So do I.

Oh, sure, I understand

why you passed yourself off as an Irishman.

You were born and raised in Ireland.

Half of Ireland immigrated here.

Half the American Army is Irish.

Oh, sure, you're older, maybe a little wiser,

but that doesn't answer the important question.

Why aren't you dead with the rest of your men, Baxter?

Now, look, since I can't move so well,

it might be wise if you start keeping a watch

in the rest of the directions!

Those bully boys out there aren't waiting for us

to die of old age!

Well...

they could burn us out, I suppose.

But these logs are pretty thick.

It'd take a lot to set them off.

We've got a good sod roof, just like in the old country.

They'll never burn it, at least.

Well, I doubt very much if the Baxter I knew

ever saw a sod roof.

And I say me name's Mulcahy.

Confound it!

Will you shut up about that?!

I wet-nursed you when you joined the regiment!

Do you think I don't remember my junior officers?!

Not for a moment.

Colonel Mackenzie remembered everything.

Always.

Well.

At last.

Now we have an understanding.

We have an understanding, Colonel.

But I rather suspect it will be a short one.

All right, Lieutenant.

Tell us about Mankipur.

Let it die, Colonel.

It's all over.

Your whole command was decorated for that action.

Hmm? And you?

You got the Distinguished Service Order.

Oh, no.

Why did they?

Don't worry about why they did what they did.

I want to know exactly why you did what you did.

Not me, Colonel, a 20-year-old boy

who was a fool and one of our precious natural aristocrats,

thought he was better than the common herd.

He had no more business leading a combat unit

than I do leading a symphony orchestra.

Oh, I don't know. I knew that boy.

He was young and foolish, maybe,

but I saw promise in him.

Than you've got keener eyes than I have.

25 miles in that heat, and...

Mankipur was cool.

And the headman there had a cold bottle

of that sweet wine they make.

And a servant girl with dark eyes

and a certain cooperative attitude, you understand.

We were to bivouac three miles up the road.

The men knew how to take care of themselves,

and Sergeant Masters was a good man.

I knew he'd watch over the... The Colonel's brother.

My brother was one of 20.

I sent him out to gain experience with an older man.

A whole year older?

And a fine fighting man

he was, too, that one.

A beautiful choice you made, Colonel Mackenzie.

Well, at the time, Colonel darling,

I wasn't yet used to the idea

that a soldier's feet are supposed to hurt.

And there was only one young pretty dark thing

with big eyes, you understand.

The sort of thing a young fool does sometimes.

You might even understand it.

You mean that you... You weren't with them

when the Batans attacked, you were back at the village?

With cold wine

and a warm young thing and my feet in a pan of water.

Then I... I heard the shooting,

so much of it, I ran three miles

in my bare feet, bare and bleeding,

lacerated and torn,

torn nothing like the things I found.

I know what you found. I got there three days later.

They were all dead.

I couldn't recognize a man of them.

I should be with them.

Since I wasn't, the only thing left for me

was court-martial and disgrace,

not only for me but for my whole family.

So you ran.

So I ran.

What could I do? My men were dead.

Better the regiment think I were dead, too.

That way there'd be no stain on its battle flag.

Of course I ran. And hid and begged and ran.

Until I got here.

And an army needed soldiers to fight savages.

I had a lot to make up for.

Be honest with me, Colonel, what else could I have done?

You could have counted your dead command, Lieutenant,

counted them and learned that besides yourself,

there were five men missing including my kid brother,

five wounded, defenseless men

who were carried off by the tribesmen

and handed over to their women for a three-day celebration.

That's how long it took them to die, Lieutenant, three days!

No.

No.

No.

You say you could have done nothing for them?

- Hmm? - There was a telegraph at Mankipur.

You could've contacted me for help.

Oh, sure, you'd have been court-martialed.

But you might have saved the lives of five brave man.

I led the rescue party, Lieutenant.

I helped cut those men loose from the stakes,

what was left of them, but that was after three days.

One day earlier and we might've saved their lives.

You, you might've saved their lives.

They'll be back. But not right away.

That was very observant of you, the... the chap on the roof.

Yeah, wasn't it?

What you told me before,

about the men and your brother...

it really happened?

Mm-hmm, thanks to you, it really happened.

All these years, I thought I was...

just a deserter.

I've been working to make up for it.

And I think I have.

Colonel MacKenzie, how does one make up

for being a traitor and a murderer?

I've been a good soldier, Colonel.

I've done my best.

Since I joined this Army,

I've done nothing to be ashamed of.

I'm aware of your record here.

It's a good one. It's a very good one.

I don't know how much it'll help you at a British court martial.

That's academic. I won't be facing a British court-martial.

I'm asking for your extradition.

- No, you're not. - Oh, you think not?

I've stopped thinking.

It's what they think that counts.

I'd have been the next regimental Sergeant Major,

the youngest one in the regiment's history.

Too bad.

You know you're forgetting your Sandhurst, Baxter?

While you're alive, you haven't lost.

I forgot my Sandhurst the first day

I fought a Plains Indian.

You forgot your Sandhurst at Mankipur

when you panicked and ran.

A fool mistake made by a fool kid.

I've spent my life making up for that.

I'm proud of what I've done.

One stupid mistake in judgment shouldn't destroy

a man's entire life, MacKenzie.

We're gonna lose the moon soon.

Yes, sir.

You can count on them then.

You mean they'll charge us?

Oh, no.

That's what they'll hope you'll be expecting.

They'll be coming in through the windows,

the door, the roof.

They might try to get on our blind side over there

and pile up brush and try to roast us.

And me with this leg.

I'd better take a look at it now.

Your leg's in a mess, Baxter.

Yes, I've been having the same feeling.

Top one, it's just a flesh wound.

A lot of bleeding and not much else.

- You loosening the tourniquet? - Now and then.

This lower one.

You know, your ankle bone is just a mass of splinters.

That bad?

Well, with luck, you may ride again,

but I... I doubt you'll do much walking.

If I don't get you to a surgeon soon,

you're gonna lose that foot.

Very difficult being a good sergeant

- with only one foot. - It doesn't help.

But as I said,

it's all academic.

It doesn't go any further than this place.

That's how you think?

You want to just sit here and wait for them

to come and get us?

Why no, Colonel darling.

I've been thinking about dashing out there

and running away from them,

leaving my shot-up leg behind, of course.

You know, I don't think I like the idea of waiting.

You're crazy.

You want to try to beat them at their own game?

It's a game I know how to play.

You don't have your own personal bagpiper.

Yeah.

Would you let me have your sidearm?

Give you my revolver?

Or maybe you thought of something

they didn't teach at Sandhurst.

Sneak out there and right past them

and keep going.

You'd be clear of them by morning,

and they'd have me to keep them occupied.

That worries you, does it,

the idea that I might run off and leave you here alone?

You're not presiding at a court-martial here,

Colonel MacKenzie, and you don't grease your way

out of here using my blood.

I don't mind dying,

but I won't be sentenced to death.

Because you panicked once and ran,

do you really think I'd do it now?

Whatever a boy officer might have done,

Terence Mulcahy has never run from a fight

- and never will. - And you're proud of that?

I am.

Well, I've never run from a fight either,

and I'm proud of that.

Good luck to you, Colonel,

and keep a good tight grip on your hair.

Yeah.

Colonel, on your right!

Colonel, darling.

You would make a fine fighting corporal.

And I'd be delighted to have you in my platoon.

You took care of them, didn't you?

Yes, all except the one you took care of for me.

- Let me have a look. - Oh, no, no, forget it, no.

It's all cold. He did for me.

It was all going dark anyway.

Colonel darling?

Yes, Sergeant Mulcahy?

You won't be letting a stupid, brainless,

gutless bit of Lieutenant

ruin totally the best sergeant you ever saw?

No.

Sergeant of the guard, post number one!

Post number one!

Officer of the day, post number one!

- You all right, sir?! - I'm all right, Parker.

I'm afraid we had trouble

with your ghost dancers, Colonel.

I'm afraid Sergeant Mulcahy was killed.

Mulcahy, sir? You mean Baxter.

No, Parker, Lieutenant Baxter died in India.

Sergeant Mulcahy was a courageous man, sir,

and a skilled soldier.

He was a credit to your command,

as he would have been to any man's command.

Thank you, Colonel MacKenzie.

But I don't understand, sir.

Parker, we made a mistake, that's all.

Everybody makes mistakes.

You'll want a full report, Colonel?

I should be glad to accommodate you.

Thank you.

Lieutenant Dorn? This way.

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