All language subtitles for The Virginian S09E21 - The Regimental Line ENGLISH+2s

♪

♪

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.

♪

♪