Custer is dead.
And around the bloody guidon of the immortal 7th Cavalry
lie 212 officers and men.
The Sioux and Cheyenne are on the warpath.
By military telegraph, news of the Custer massacre is flashed
across the long, lonely miles to the Southwest.
By stagecoach to the 100 settlements and the 1,000 farms
standing under threat of an Indian uprising.
Pony Express riders know that one more such defeat as Custer's,
and it would be 100 years
before another wagon train dared to cross the plains.
And from the Canadian border to the Rio Bravo,
10,000 Indians,
Kiowa, Comanche, Arapaho, Sioux and Apache,
under Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse, Gall and Crow King,
are uniting in a common war against the United States Cavalry.
Come on!
Hey! That's old Major Cheadle, the paymaster, ain't it?
Yeah. Looks like we ain't going to get paid for another three months.
And wherever the flag rises over some lonely Army post,
there may be one man,
one captain,
fated to wield the sword of destiny.
Good morning, sir! 5:42, sir.
5:41!
And a lovely day it is, sir. Colder than blazes.
Uh, Mrs. Jameson's had her baby, sir.
The stagecoach run from here to Sudro's Wells
has been discontinued.
And there's a dispatch rider arrived from Paradise River Patrol.
Private MacKenzie has got himself shot.
Boy or a girl?
It's a little trooper, sir.
When does the stagecoach stop running?
It's finished, sir. Stopped.
No more stagecoach, sir.
MacKenzie?
Is he dead?
Yes, sir.
Uh...
Good man, MacKenzie.
Made corporal, five or six years.
You got a breath on you like a hot mince pie!
Captain darlin'. As you well know, I took the pledge after Chapultepec...
And Bull Run and Gettysburg and Shiloh.
And Saint Patrick's Day.
Fourth of July!
- Captain... - Beats me where you hide the stuff.
Six more days.
Six more days and I retire.
Well...
The Army will never be the same when we retire, sir.
The Army is always the same. The sun and the moon change.
But the Army knows no seasons.
Here we are in our prime and they're turning us out to pasture!
It's an abuse of the taxpayers' money, I calls it, sir.
The only tax you've ever paid was a whiskey tax. Ready?
Ready, sir!
Morning, gentlemen!
- Good morning, sir. - Good morning, sir.
Well, carry on.
Good morning, Miss Brown.
Hold up!
Mr. Cohill.
Inspection.
That's Tyree and the Paradise River Patrol.
Yeah.
Report, Sergeant.
Gunshot wound, sir. Dead when I found him.
- Where? - Near Red Butte, sir.
Horses were about give in, sir.
Money box is gone, sir.
Cheadle?
What do you make of the wound, Doctor?
I'll need an hour, Major.
Fetch him to hospital.
It's not Kiowa.
No, and it's not Comanche nor Arapahos either, with those color bands.
Sir?
All right, Sergeant, put in your two cents' worth.
Sir, these arrows with the yellow, white and red bands
are a sign of the Southern Cheyenne.
I've seen Bannocks and Snakes use the same colors.
That's very true, sir.
But look at the clan mark on this arrow.
It's the sign of the dog.
That arrow came from the bow of a Southern Cheyenne Dog Soldier.
Well, what in blazes would the Cheyennes be doing this far south, Sergeant?
That ain't my department, sir.
Alert the post, Sergeant.
Yes, sir!
Get some rest, Tyree.
Thank you, sir.
Just a moment, Mr. Pennell, if you please!
Lieutenant, the post is closed.
Sorry to spoil your outing, Miss Dandridge.
Sorry indeed.
Mr. Cohill, haven't you anything better to do
than ride around in that little, red sash making yourself obnoxious?
If you have any complaints about my orders, Miss Dandridge,
you may submit them to Major Allshard, preferably in writing.
Duplicate or triplicate?
Oh, come on, Flint, don't be a spoilsport.
That's exactly what he is.
Because I wouldn't trust you to take me on a picnic last Sunday,
now you're hazing Mr. Pennell.
Drive on, Ross, and if you...
You touch those reins and I'll slap you in the guardhouse!
You wouldn't dare!
Someone placing you under arrest, Miss Dandridge?
Lieutenant Cohill, sir.
He suddenly decided he could order me around...
- I was merely following orders... - You're at attention, Mr. Cohill.
Please proceed, Miss Dandridge.
I don't want to make a scene, Captain.
I'm sure that Mr. Cohill's a fine officer.
I know his father, General Cohill. I know his sister.
Lieutenant Cohill's has made up his mind
that Lieutenant Pennell hasn't rank enough to be seen in my company.
- Sir, if I could just... - You're at attention, Mr. Pennell.
Do you wish to further amplify your complaint, Miss Dandridge?
Complaint?
Oh, Captain Brittles, I'm not complaining.
Why, I love Fort Starke and I simply adore the entire cavalry.
Our pleasure, ma'am.
Yes, indeed.
Mr. Cohill, wipe that grin off your face.
You have the floor.
Sir, I have denied Mr. Pennell permission to leave the post.
And for what purpose did you wish to leave the post, Mr. Pennell?
Picnicking, sir.
Picnicking?
Picnicking, Miss Dandridge? Where, in St. Louis?
Oh, no, sir, just out by the waterfall. But I'm sorry...
Never apologize, mister. It's a sign of weakness.
Mr. Cohill, I see no reason why Mr. Pennell should not go picnicking.
Very good, sir.
Thank you, Captain Brittles.
But, Miss Dandridge, Mr. Cohill was quite right
in denying you permission to leave the post under the present emergency.
So, may I escort you to your quarters?
You may proceed with your picnic, Mr. Pennell.
You may pass Lieutenant Pennell, Sergeant!
Pass Lieutenant Pennell!
Where are you figuring on holding your picnic, Ross?
I'll tell you where. At Delmonico's in New York
about two months from now with Olivia on my arm!
And I won't be wearing any blue suit either, bub!
Here's the last report on George Custer's outfit.
"Two hundred twelve dead on the Little Bighorn.
"Headquarters expects hard and bloody winter.
"Sitting Bull preaching holy war. Take all necessary precautions."
Here's the list, Nathan. I expect you knew most of them.
"George Armstrong Custer.
"Tom Custer.
"Boston Custer.
"Calhoun, Cooke.
"Crittenden.
"Harrington.
"Keogh."
Myles Keogh.
Well, Mary,
only six more days to go and your old Nathan will be out of the Army.
I haven't decided what I'll do yet.
Somehow, I just can't picture myself
back there on the banks of the Wabash,
rocking on the front porch.
No, I've been thinking I'd maybe push on west.
New settlements, California.
We had some sad news today, Mary.
George Custer was killed, his whole command.
Myles Keogh among 'em.
You remember Myles.
Happy-go-lucky Irishman.
Who used to waltz so well with you.
Yeah, I know I...
I guess I was a little jealous.
Never could waltz myself.
Well, I'm taking the troop out in the morning.
Cheyennes around.
I'm to pick up the patrols and drive 'em on back north.
It'll probably be my last mission, Mary.
Hard to believe, isn't it?
Hard to believe.
I hope I'm not intruding, Captain.
But I've watched you come out here to your family
and so, I... So, I brought you this.
Well, I appreciate this very much.
It's called Cyclamen. It's a Greek word.
I think it means rabbit's ears.
My wife called them flaming arrows.
She was... She was fond of gardening.
I'm sorry I made such a fool of myself at the gate this morning.
You made a fool out of a couple of young lieutenants.
That's never against Army regulations.
- Then I'm forgiven? - Ah! Forgiven!
Well, good night, Captain.
Good night, Miss Olivia.
Thank you.
She's a nice girl, Mary.
Reminds me of you.
- Time, sir! - Yes.
Well, old comrade, the last patrol, eh?
Yeah. The last of many, sir.
- Five more. - Three more.
- Five more! - Three more!
Five more! Can't you count?
I'm meaning, three more weeks before I retire, sir.
Oh? Well, days, weeks, what's the difference?
Are you gonna stand there all morning?
- Well, I'm sorry, Captain... - Don't apologize.
- It's a sign of weakness. - It's a sign of weakness.
- Ready? - Ready, sir.
- Good morning. - Good morning.
- Hochbauer! - Good morning, sir.
- Well, once again De Rice, huh? - Yes, sir.
Good morning, men.
What's this?
- Hochbauer! - Yes, sir.
- What's this? - By order of Major Allshard, sir.
There's no wagon goes on this patrol.
Orders, sir.
- Orders, huh? - Yes, sir.
Huh...
Good morning, sir.
- Sidesaddle, Riley? - Sidesaddle, sir.
Yeah.
Sidesaddle.
- Major Allshard, what in blazes... - Hold it. I know. The wagon.
Yes, the wagon. A wagon full of women's junk!
I can't hamper this patrol with a wagon.
Particularly this patrol.
Nathan, I'm sending my wife and her niece with you.
They'll go with the troop as far as Sudro's Wells,
and they'll take the stage east from there.
That is an order, Captain.
- I wish to protest that order. - I expected you to.
- Put it in writing. - I intend to.
Nathan, I sat up half the night with this.
I can't keep the Dandridge girl here. She ain't Army.
I'll say, she ain't. For the following reasons. One...
- Coffee? - One... No. Yes.
"There is a party of Cheyenne Dog Soldiers raiding this territory."
I have a feeling that every woman who remains...
- How many "R's" in "territory"? Oh. - Two.
Men, I want you to pay strict attention to what I gotta say!
Now, there's going to be women with this column,
and I want you men to watch them words.
- Watch them words! - Watch them grammar!
Whose dog is this?
Nice dog. Irish setter. Huh!
Poor Abby.
She says everyone will think she's running away.
Say, it's gonna be tough on me.
I'll be a bachelor all winter.
"And in conclusion, I respectfully protest
"the decision of my commanding officer
"to saddle his troop with his female relations..."
- One "L." - "In this critical hour.
"Signed, Nathan Brittles," so forth.
Sounds very good, Nathan. Give it to me, I'll file it.
- Hochbauer. - Yes, sir.
I know this is a hard decision for you to make, Mac.
Gonna miss Abby.
Hate to hamstring you this way, Nathan, but you will take every precaution.
- Mac. - Oh, forget it. Sorry I mentioned it.
As you were, Hochbauer.
Well, here I am, all ready.
And how did Marching Through Georgia
take the idea of Old Iron Pants riding with him?
- Under protest, my dear. - A written protest, Abby, of course.
It's always my pleasure to escort Old Iron Pants.
Well, as long as you're going along with us, I guess, we'll have...
Abby, that is the dad-blastedest outfit I ever did see.
- Quincannon's old britches? - Yes.
- Good morning, Mr. Cohill. - Good morning.
I hope you approve of my uniform.
Yes, indeed.
It's very lovely, Olivia.
So, Ross has branded you with his yellow ribbon.
How do you know it isn't for you, mister?
I... I'd be very happy if I thought it were for me.
Very happy indeed.
Good morning.
Trooper Dandridge reporting for duty, sir.
Well, proper trooper! Yes, sir.
Right pretty, don't you think, Mr. Cohill?
I do indeed, sir.
And a yellow ribbon, Miss Dandridge?
Do you know what that means in the cavalry?
- A sweetheart. - It does?
Who's it for?
Why, for you, of course, Captain Brittles.
For me. I'll make these young bucks jealous.
Oh, good morning, Flint. Well, darling, you look nice.
I hope Ross notices that yellow ribbon.
I hope you're wearing that yellow ribbon for me, Olivia.
Why, who else would I be wearing it for, Ross?
Right, by twos!
Report.
Trailed Mr. Rynders' buckboard southeast, sir,
about a mile below the Painted Post.
- Painted Post, eh? - Met two men in a wagon.
- Know who they were? - No, sir, Captain.
Didn't seem prudent to inquire.
What do you suppose they were doing that far south?
Well, that ain't my department, sir.
We'll probably pick 'em up on the next go-round.
- Take a point. - Yes, sir.
- Sergeant? - Yes, sir.
Right through that pass.
Romantic, isn't it, Miss Dandridge?
Guidons gaily fluttering, bronzed men lustily singing,
horses prancing, bunions aching.
Must you always be so... So vulgar, Mr. Cohill?
The cavalry doesn't go in for refinements, Miss Dandridge.
Cavalry.
Ridiculous business of dismounting and walking every hour or so.
Might as well be in the... The infantry.
We soon would be, if we didn't ease these mounts.
- Why don't you ride in the wagon? - No, thank you.
Why doesn't the Army put springs in these wagons?
Oh, the men all said they'd rather have finger bowls.
I think that's terribly funny, Mr. Cohill.
Greens and milk. Oh, the Army.
Now, I planted 24 gardens in the first 10 years of our marriage.
We never stayed long enough to see a single bloom.
Now, have I your permission to ride back along the line?
I'd rather share the dust with Mr. Pennell.
Haven't you already thrown enough dust in Pennell's eyes?
Why don't you give him a chance?
Mr. Cohill, relieve Mr. Pennell with the rear guard!
Yes, sir!
Are you enjoying your walk, darlin'?
Oh, yes, I... Yes, I am.
Hold!
Can you make them out, Sergeant?
They look like Arapahos, sir.
They're moving the whole village. Wagons, lodges, and all.
Yeah.
I don't know where you got your brains, Sergeant.
But God must have given you that pair of eyes.
They're Arapahos, all right.
Heading the same way we are.
Now, why would they be moving on Sudro's Wells, Sergeant?
Answer me that.
My mother didn't raise any sons
to be making guesses in front of Yankee captains, sir.
Well, I'd soon find out if...
We can't risk it with those women.
- Officer's call. - Yes, sir.
Are those really hostile Indians, Captain?
Are you going to fight them?
- Rejoin the column, Miss Dandridge. - Captain Brittles!
Get back in line and keep your interval.
I don't like it, Mr. Cohill. I don't like it at all.
Arapahos, sir?
We're turning east, gentlemen. Give 'em a wide berth.
Approach Sudro's Wells from Twin Forks.
But we'll lose a half a day that way, sir.
The ladies may miss the stage, sir.
Would you rather have 'em miss their scalps, sir?
- Take the column, Mr. Cohill. - Yes, sir.
- I'm sorry, sir. I didn't... - Oh, shut up!
You're relieved, Mr. Cohill. I'm taking over the rear guard.
Glad you're going up there.
The old man hasn't spoken to me in three hours.
But, "The ladies may miss the stage, sir."
You'll be lucky if the old man talks to you in three days.
It'll be his last chance to.
Yeah? So, the Lieutenant Pennell is still gonna resign.
- Through channels. - As adjutant, I'll tear it up!
Look, bub, every second lieutenant is entitled
to three resignations during his first tour of duty.
But you forget, bub,
that I don't have to depend on cavalry pay.
That's right. I had forgotten your silver spoon.
But I'll bet Miss Olivia Dandridge hasn't. Not for a minute!
How'd you like to pull your blouse, Mr. Cohill?
I'll hold your coat, Lieutenant Pennell.
Why don't you take your hooks out of Ross Pennell?
He's got the makings of a fine officer.
You're not his guardian, nor mine, Mr. Cohill.
Well, I'm telling you just the same.
Ross is a spoiled rich kid, and the Army is his only chance.
So, if you can't take the Army, leave him alone!
Buffalo.
- Buffalo, Mr. Cohill. - Yes, sir.
The first time the herd's been this far north
since summer of '68.
- You never saw a buffalo, Mr. Pennell? - No, sir.
Before your time.
Sergeant Quincannon, escort the ladies forward, please.
Why, Aunt Abby, that's really buffalo.
Yes. Buffalo.
Ah... That's a lot of buffalo.
It reminds me of the old days.
When whiskey was 50 cents a gallon.
Sure hanker for a taste of buffalo meat.
Me, too. Ain't never had none.
Beans is safer, you mark my word.
There'll be Injuns around that herd thicker than flies.
What's your thinking, Sergeant?
And don't tell me it ain't your department.
Well, Captain, I ain't getting paid for thinking.
I read it this way.
If I was a young hotblood like Red Shirt,
anxious to show off in front of them Cheyenne Dog Soldiers,
I'd be down at every one of them council fires tonight telling them
that I was the one that made the medicine that brought back the buffalo.
Yeah, and I'd tell them about the Great Spirit.
And how us Injuns should all stick together, quit quarreling,
and join our Cheyenne brothers that whipped General Custer,
and drove out the rest of them Yankee soldiers.
Yeah, that's what I'd tell 'em.
Of course, I'm just guessing, you understand, Captain.
Yeah. Of course, I'm just guessing, too, Sergeant.
But if I was an Indian agent, maybe named Mr. Rynders,
and I'd met a couple of men who might be gunrunners,
I'm guessing I'd be mighty close to that council fire of Red Shirt's,
ready to do a land-office business in repeating rifles.
Well, if that's the case, why don't we pull right out and take the whole...
Miss Dandridge and her chaperone, bub.
Keep it up, keep it up. That's all I ask, just keep it up!
Sergeant, you're well mounted.
Make for the Paradise River. Pick up our patrol there.
Proceed at your best pace to Sudro's Wells.
Have 'em hold the stagecoach for the ladies.
Yes, sir.
Tell 'em I've been delayed! Take the column, Mr. Cohill!
Yes, sir.
...Ladies, to the rear!
Mr. Cohill!
First two sets of fours, forward!
Take the column, Mr. Cohill.
- It's Quayne's patrol. - Yes.
Quayne's patrol, men. Hold your fire!
Sound recall.
Over here!
Come this way! Hurry!
- Grab him! - All right, men.
You all right, Mike? All right, my boy? Mike?
Commence firing, men!
Shoot over their heads! Drive them back.
Handle him easy, men.
Corporal Quayne, sir. Reporting with Paradise River Patrol.
Arapahos jumped us at sundown.
It was Red Shirt himself, Captain! The black-hearted, gut-eatin'...
Shut up, McCarthy! Quiet in the ranks. I'm making this report!
Easy, Mike, easy.
They had us ringed. At night, we got away.
Made it to the relief point,
but you weren't there, sir.
I wanted to be there, Corporal.
Proceed.
They flushed us at dawn, sir,
and I got this.
It's a good, clear report.
It'll show on your record
when you come up for that extra stripe in two or three years.
Thank you, sir.
Sound for the wagon.
Easy, fella.
Good work, McCarthy. Good work, men!
We'll get you a little whiskey, Quayne!
You'll be all right.
Let's go.
- Doctor! - Is that Quayne? How is he?
Cheyennes, Laddie.
Same ones that killed them Yankee soldiers with General Custer.
Easy, boy. Let's go!
The arrowhead's right over Quayne's heart, Nathan.
- It's got to come out. - Well...
It's a risky operation at best.
- Can you halt? - You know I can't!
For 30 minutes, Nathan. Twenty minutes, for a man's life?
Doctor, I couldn't give you five minutes, not if he was my own son.
Quayne's a soldier. He'll have to take a soldier's risks.
He knows that. I'm the one that's begging.
I'll give you all I can. Troop, halt! Dismount, lead!
Thank you, Nathan.
Hold your camp in the ranks!
I'm ready. As slow as you can.
Here you are, Mike, another slug.
After you, ma'am, if you please.
All right, down it goes.
Around her knee She wore a yellow garter
She wore it for her lover Who was far, far away
Blasphemy...
And when they asked her Why she wore the garter...
Breathe deep, Mike.
Again. Again.
Cavalry, cavalry...
Easy, Mike. Easy.
- Call him. - Captain Brittles!
Captain Brittles!
Hold on, Quayne.
Here it is, Nathan. I had to go behind his shoulder blade...
Blast the details, man, how is he?
I think I can safely say he'll live to make sergeant.
Troop, halt!
Pass the word, Quayne's doing fine!
Prepare to mount!
Mount!
Forward!
Thanks, soldier.
I'm so happy about Corporal Quayne.
Why? He's just another dogface soldier in dirty-shirt blue.
What's it mean to you whether he lives or dies?
Did you ever dance with him back at the fort?
Or speak to him? Did you ever even look at him?
No, of course you didn't. No officer's bars, not a gentleman.
I've been finding that some lieutenant's bars
are no guarantee of a gentleman.
You're glad about Quayne, certainly.
But only because it puts the happy ending to the stories
you'll take back east to your tea parties.
Well, now you can tell 'em you've seen it all.
A real Indian fight, a man with an arrow sticking in his chest.
Mr. Cohill...
That should make your tour just about perfect!
Mrs. Allshard's having a rough time back there, Miss Dandridge.
Chloroform and all.
Would you spell her for a while?
Certainly, Captain. And thank you.
Mr. Cohill, did anyone ever take down your britches and tan your hide?
Why, no, sir. That is, yes, sir. My father, sir, with a strap.
Well, I'm just old enough to be your father, bub. Take the point!
They'll make a fine, boisterous couple when they're married, Captain.
...Forward, ho!
Captain, there's something over there!
Women to the rear!
"Women to the rear." Doesn't Captain Brittles have...
Oi, shut your gob! You talk too much.
When he says back to the rear, go back to the rear, darling,
and I'll give you a big kiss.
- Sergeant Quincannon. - You'd better go back, miss.
- I'd hate to be kissed by Quincannon. - Silent!
First two sets, forward! Gallop!
Gallop!
I'm really glad to see you, Captain.
Sorry to be late, Tyree. Report.
Cheyenne Dog party, about 30 Arapahos with them.
Well, that blows the lid, doesn't it?
Ma and Pa Sudro, sir.
- Children see it? - No, sir.
Found 'em hidin' in the smokehouse.
Tyree,
it's about time I did retire.
Sir? Would you take a look at Trooper Smith?
Don't bother about me, Captain.
Trust you'll forgive my presumption.
I'd like to commend the boy here for the way he handled this action.
In the best tradition of the cavalry, sir.
I take that very kindly, sir.
Captain Tyree.
- Captain Tyree. - Speak to him.
Thank you. Yes, sir!
Sir! Sir!
I'm afraid he can't hear you, Captain.
Why, Palmer.
Why, Carey Sue!
Do you remember me? I'm Mrs. Soldier.
Why, you came over and visited me at the fort.
And we had a party. Do you remember?
- See to your troop, Mr. Cohill! - Yes, sir.
- Mr. Pennell. - Yes, sir.
Picket lines!
You don't have to say it, Captain.
I know all this is because of me.
Because I wanted to see the West.
'Cause I wasn't... I wasn't Army enough to stay the winter.
Not quite Army yet, miss.
Or you'd know never to apologize, it's a sign of weakness.
Yes, but this was your last patrol, and I'm to blame for it.
Only the man who commands can be blamed.
It rests on me.
Mission, failure!
Well, we missed the stage, Miss Dandridge.
Well, that's the best I can do.
I ran out of red flannel petticoats.
That's mighty kind of you, ma'am.
- Sure appreciate it, ma'am. - We thank you kindly.
I'm proud to do it.
"'I am the resurrection and the life,' sayeth the Lord.
"'He that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.
"'And whoso believeth in me shall never die.
"'I know that my redeemer liveth,
"'and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth."'
I commend to your keeping, sir,
the souls of John Sudro and his wife, Martha.
I also commend to your keeping,
the soul of Rome Clay,
late brigadier general, Confederate States Army.
Known to his comrades here, sir, as
Trooper John Smith, United States Cavalry.
A gallant soldier and a Christian gentleman.
Ready. Aim. Fire!
Aim! Fire!
Order! Time.
With your permission, sir?
Granted.
Bugler.
- We thank you, sir. - We thank you, sir!
I wouldn't go any further if I were you.
You're almost across the footlights now.
Probably 100 hostiles out there watching every move you're making.
Think that's a whip-poor-will?
Come on, Olivia, let's go back.
I can walk back alone, thank you.
Olivia.
The old man says, "Don't ever apologize. It's a sign of weakness."
But I'm sorry for everything I've said and done.
Oh, honey, I love you so...
All right, Flint, let's get it over with. Pull your blouse.
Are you crazy, mister?
Don't pull rank on me.
You've been green-eyed ever since she put on that yellow ribbon.
- Button up that shirt, mister! - Ross. Yes, please.
You can sneer all you want to, but you keep your paws off my girl.
- All right, mister, I'll accommodate you. - Let's step over to the corral.
Ross, don't. This isn't... I quite agree!
Button your shirt, Mr. Pennell!
I thought better of you.
Four years out here and still acting like a wet-eared cadet on the Hudson.
What is this all about, Mr. Cohill?
Sir, I... I decline to answer. Respectfully.
Mr. Cohill.
It is a bitter thing indeed
to learn that an officer who's had nine years' experience in the cavalry,
the officer to whom I'm surrendering command of this troop in two more days,
should have so little grasp of leadership,
as to allow himself to be chivvied into a go at fisticuffs,
while Taps still sounds over a brave man's grave.
God help this troop when I'm gone.
- Sir, it was... - You're at attention, Mr. Pennell!
- Captain, it was a misunderstanding. - You get back to the troop area.
Mr. Cohill, you'll have the men build their squad fires higher.
Make the fullest show of bedding down for the night.
Then we're sneaking out.
Heading for the river, going back.
Sorry, Ross.
I'm sorry, Flint.
Just saw our old friend Mr. Rynders down there.
Right smart of trading going on.
Mr. Rynders, eh?
All right.
Pass the word to Mr. Pennell forward. Follow me.
Mr. Rynders, Indian agent.
- He said $50, too much. - Too much, uh?
Tell that grandson of a horse thief
that I know he's got the money from the paymaster's box.
Tell him I know he killed Major Cheadle.
And tell him it's $50 or no rifle!
Sergeant.
It's cocked, sir.
No, your knife.
Help!
Join me in a chaw of tobacco?
No, sir. I don't chaw and I don't play cards.
Chawing tobacco is a nasty habit.
It's been known to turn a man's stomach.
I'll take a chaw if you please, sir.
Thank you, sir.
Let's go.
Still figuring on resigning, mister?
No, sir.
Pass the word.
Officers and sergeants forward.
Officers and sergeants forward!
- Sergeant Tyree? - Yes, sir?
- Find me a trail to the river. - Right, sir!
Gentlemen, we'll leave a rearguard here under one officer.
Sir, I consider it a privilege...
Thank you, Mr. Pennell, your offer to volunteer will go on your record.
If you still wish to make a record, sir.
Mr. Cohill, you will be in command.
You'll take two squads, cover our crossing.
Deny the hostiles the use of this ford.
First squad! Second squad!
The second squad has too many old married men.
First squad! Fifth squad!
Wheel out, form on the right!
- Can you swim, Dickey, me boy? - No.
Well, I'm the best swimmer in the world.
Once I swam the English Channel with an anvil on me chest.
You know, I've got... I've got two jars of Damson plums on my pantry shelf.
They're just waiting to be eaten up by a little girl like you.
Tell her about the boat.
Oh, Captain Brittles.
Request permission to remain behind with the rearguard, sir.
Permission refused. Mr. Cohill, start the troop across.
I'll pick your defense positions.
One pack animal to the rear!
Get back in that wagon, Quayne.
Hang on, boys! Here we go!
Bugler, sound officer's call for Captain Brittles!
I'll be back, men. I'll be back, I promise you. Good luck!
Prepare! Adjust your saddles and look to your equipment there!
Adjust your saddles and look to your equipment there!
Pass that on, will you?
It's time for me to take me medicine.
It tastes horrible!
Three parties of them, Mr. Cohill.
But this is the only crossing in 20 miles.
You gotta buy me some time.
You gotta buy me a long day.
Then we'll do it, sir.
And I know you will, Flint.
Flint?
It took you nine years to call me that, sir.
It was well worth waiting for.
We'll get you out of here, son. Just hang on.
We'll get you out of this pocket by noon tomorrow.
Prepare to mount!
Move!
Flint, wait.
Well, haul off and kiss her back, blast you! We haven't got all day!
All right, Miss Dandridge, if you please.
Get mounted!
- I guess that's how it is, Ross. - I understand.
Forward! Ride forward!
It's my duty to report mission, a failure.
Oh, fiddlesticks, Nathan Brittles. It was our fault.
You did everything a man could...
I've never worn a coat of whitewash yet, Abby.
I won't start now.
Failed at Sudro's, failed to keep Rynders' rifles from the tribes.
Failed at everything. I leave the Army a failure.
- You're just running yourself down... - Blast it, Mac! Hasn't she told you?
I left Flint Cohill with two squads back in the Paradise.
And a sound military move, Nathan.
With your permission, I'd like to rest the troop for three hours and start back.
I'll have Cohill out of that pocket by noon, tomorrow.
No, Nathan, troop can't leave till dawn.
Dawn? Troop ought to pull out of here before midnight!
I agree, Nathan, if you were leading it.
But young Pennell will need all the daylight he can find.
Pennell? That babe in the wood?
Fording a river against a swarm of hostiles with Winchesters?
Aren't you forgetting that you retire from the Army tomorrow, Captain?
Tomorrow's all I need, Mac.
Look, 40 years a good soldier.
I can't leave Cohill facing those devils.
This is no one-day mission, Nathan.
They'll be out there all winter.
All right, then I'll volunteer as a civilian scout,
as an interpreter, anything.
And I thought you were fond of Cohill.
Fond of him?
Every time Cohill gave an order, men would turn around and look at you.
They'd wonder if he were doing the right thing.
Do you want to ruin the boy?
I know, Mac, but...
And young Pennell's got to learn to cross a river under fire.
So did we.
And Cohill's got to run his chances.
We ran 'em, Nathan.
That's what we get paid for.
Yeah, I guess you're right, Mac.
I guess you're right.
With your permission, I'll quit the post tomorrow.
Permission granted, Captain.
Where will you go, Nathan?
Oh, west, I guess, Abby.
California, new settlements.
Old soldiers, Miss Dandridge. Hah!
Someday, you'll learn how they hate to give up.
Captain of a troop one day, every man's face turned towards you,
lieutenants jump when I growl.
Now, tomorrow I'll be glad if a blacksmith asks me to shoe a horse.
Blast your eyes, Abby, if you start sniffling now!
- And as for you, young lady... - I'm not crying.
I'd like to stand up and cheer.
Time, sir. And it's a black day for the Army.
Did you sleep well, sir?
No.
I didn't sleep at all.
Clean up the quarters after I'm gone.
Sell all this stuff and put the money in the troop fund.
Give Mrs. Allshard my extra saddle.
It'll be easier on her disposition.
And the olla, sir?
The olla? Oh, yes.
The water bottle.
Well! How did it ever get there, sir?
Now, how do you suppose?
How long have you known it, sir?
Ever since the Second Battle of Bull Run, you thickhead.
And you've been deceiving me all these years.
Well, there's that.
I'd say that my retirement was an occasion for a drink, Sergeant.
- Help yourself. - No, I'd take no pleasure in it, sir.
But if it's an order, here's to your health.
Only 14 days for meself,
and I'll be wearing one of them monkey suits, too.
It's the only one I ever owned.
I was a lad in blue jeans, and barefoot,
when I left my daddy's farm to join the Army.
Well, Sergeant,
I haven't had a drink since that day,
but right now, I am tempted to have one to your retirement.
No, no, sir. I'll do the honors for you.
Oh, thank you.
Half a minute, Captain darling, till I get your blouse.
What?
The men will like it, sir.
Oh, yeah. Last time.
I, uh...
I'll review the troops alone this morning, Sergeant.
Yeah.
Break in that suit of store clothes for me, will you?
- A suit? - Yeah, try it on!
See how it looks.
C Troop, all present and accounted for, sir.
Thank you, sir.
Men,
I won't be going out with you.
I won't be here when you return.
Wish I could.
But I know your performance under your new commander
will make me proud of you,
as I've always been proud of you.
One moment, please, Captain.
Corporal Krumrein, front and center!
Sir, a small token from the troop.
They all put in the hat for it, sir. Even Sergeant Hochbauer.
It's solid silver, sir, brought on from Kansas City.
There is a sentiment on the back of it.
"To Captain Brittles.
"From C Troop,
"lest we forget."
Thank you, Corporal. Thank you.
Thank all of you.
Take your troop, Mr. Pennell. Proceed on your mission.
Good luck, C Troop!
Oh.
Give me a side view.
It's perfect!
It's made for you, Quincannon.
I wish you'd go down to the sutler's and order a duplicate.
So that when you retire you... Here.
Have a couple of drinks while you're waiting.
You're out of uniform, Quincannon.
- Oh, I am, am I? - You are.
Well, I'm in the proper uniform.
The uniform of a retired gentleman.
Hochbauer! Hochbauer!
Yes, sir.
Sergeant Quincannon is improperly dressed on duty
and he's under the influence.
Throw him in the guardhouse!
Alone, sir?
Afraid of him?
- No, sir... - We'll get you some help.
Wagner! Give Hochbauer a hand.
Come, Fritz.
- Connelly! - What would you like?
It'll be a little drop of whiskey, Irish, and I'll pour it meself.
And when I've drank that up, just throw me out.
Hanz, I want you to help me arrest Quincannon.
I'd love to throw that big mick in the cooler.
You're under arrest, Quincannon.
By whose orders?
By order of Captain Brittles.
Are you coming peaceably?
Laddie, I've never gone any place peaceably in me life.
You're just in time for a drink, Wagner.
Ah, Connelly, the old days, they've gone forever.
Look out!
Connelly, did you hear about the buffalo coming back?
- Buffalo? - Herds of them.
Men! Now, we want no unpleasantness.
A toast first,
and the guardhouse after, if you're able.
And it's all on me. I'm paying.
To Captain Nathan Brittles
on his retirement.
To Captain Nathan Brittles!
I... I... I thank you, comrades.
This has been a very pleasant moment.
- Good-bye, Mr. Connelly. - Good-bye, Mr. Quincannon.
Are you hurt, Hanz?
He's all right, Sarge.
Come and have a little sup before you go.
Wagner, come and join us!
Service!
Waiter!
- What is the meaning of this? - Are you all right, Quincannon?
Oh, I got a little cold, Doctor. I just had a nip.
To the guardhouse, Quincannon. Quick step. March!
Watch the steps, ma'am.
Aren't you ashamed? Eight of you picking on one poor man?
- Only seven, ma'am. - Forward! Yo!
All right, Nathan, I get it. Ten days in the guardhouse and no charges.
Can't you make it two weeks, Mac? Till he retires?
A man with a thirst like that
couldn't get by on less than a sergeant's pension.
I'll give you my word on that, he'll retire as top soldier.
Thanks, Mac.
Well, on my way. Good-bye, Mac.
Say good-bye to Abby!
He'll do no such thing, Nathan Brittles.
"Good-bye" is a word we don't use in the cavalry.
Till our next post, dear.
Could I haul off and kiss you, too, Captain?
- Good-bye, Doc. - Good-bye, Nathan.
And may the road be kind to you.
Signal smokes. War drums. Feathered bonnets against the Western sky.
New messiahs. Young leaders are ready
to hurl the finest light cavalry in the world
against Fort Starke.
In the Kiowa village, the beat of the drums
echoes in the pulse beat of the young braves.
Fighters under a common banner, old quarrels forgotten,
Comanche rides with Arapaho, Apache with Cheyenne.
All chant of war.
War to drive the white man forever from the red man's hunting ground.
Only the old men stand silent.
Even Pony That Walks has been howled down at the council fires.
Captain Brittles! Captain Brittles, sir!
Captain Brittles, sir.
Captain Brittles, glad to see you, sir.
And I you, sir. Report, Mr. Pennell.
We effected the relief as ordered, sir. No casualties.
- My compliments, Mr. Pennell. - Thank you, sir.
Report, Mr. Cohill.
We've been trailing them all day, sir. It's a big concentration.
Arapahos, Kiowas, Comanches and those Cheyenne Dog Soldiers,
800 or 900 of them, and they're getting ready to strike.
We've gotta strike first. I'm glad the major sent you...
He didn't send me. I'm not on duty.
Then the orders haven't been changed? We...
Orders are orders, sir.
For the next four hours,
according to my brand-new sliver watch and chain,
I'm an officer in the United States Cavalry.
If I gave you a written order, Flint, would you obey it?
I don't need a written order from you, sir.
Nevertheless, you're gonna get it.
Might come in handy at our court-martial.
- Sergeant Tyree? - Yes, sir.
I'm ordering you to volunteer again. Fetch a guidon.
Yes, sir. Guidon!
Remain here. Take no action till I return. If I don't, those are your orders.
Don't lose them.
Locate the pony herd.
Were you ever scared, Captain Tyree?
Yes, sir. Up to and including now.
Hey, Nathan, Nathan! I am a Christian.
Hallelujah.
Oh! Old friend, me. Long time. Long time.
I come in peace, Pony That Walks.
Take salt, Nathan. Take salt.
Smoke pipe. Good, good.
Pony That Walks, my heart is sad at what I see.
Your young men painted for war. Their scalp knives red.
The medicine drums talking. It is a bad thing.
A bad thing, Nathan. Many will die.
My young men. Your young men. No good. No good.
We must stop this war.
Too late, Nathan.
Young men do not listen to me.
They listen to big medicine. Yellow hair. Custer dead.
Buffalo come back, great sign.
Too late, Nathan.
You will come with me.
Hunt buffalo together.
Smoke many pipes.
We are too old for war.
Yes, we are too old for war,
but old men should stop wars.
Too late, too late.
Many squaws will sing the death songs.
Many lodges will be empty.
You come with me.
We hunt buffalo, get drunk together.
Hallelujah, hallelujah!
No, old friend, I must go.
I go far away.
Then, Nathan, my brother,
go in peace.
Easy, puppy, easy.
- Pass the word. Mount. - Pass the word. Mount.
Bugler, do you want to get busted back to horseshoeing? Mind that horse.
- Tyree. - Sorry, sir.
Mr. Cohill,
can you read the time by my brand-new silver watch?
Yes, sir. It's 12 minutes to midnight, sir.
Yeah.
Gentlemen.
Bugler, sound the charge.
Sound recall.
- Any wounded? - No casualties, sir.
Ah, no casualties, no Indian war, no court-martial.
You'll have your soldiers follow the hostiles
all the way back to the reservation.
You'll follow a mile behind 'em.
Walking hurts their pride.
Your watching will hurt it worse.
Can you read what time it is by my brand-new silver watch?
It's two minutes past midnight, sir.
Oh...
Been a civilian for two minutes.
It's your army, Mr. Cohill. Good luck.
So, Nathan Brittles, ex-captain of the Cavalry, USA,
started westward for the new settlements in California.
Westward toward the setting sun,
which is the end of the trail for all old men.
But the Army hadn't finished with Nathan Brittles.
And it sent a galloper after him. That was Sergeant Tyree's department.
Captain Brittles!
- For the captain, sir. - Huh?
For you, sir, from the Yankee War Department.
Oh, I knew it. Dad-blast it, I knew it.
What?
Sergeant, it's my appointment.
Chief of scouts, with a rank of lieutenant colonel.
And will you look at those endorsements!
Phil Sheridan, William Tecumseh Sherman,
and Ulysses Simpson Grant, President of the United States of America.
There's three aces for you, boy!
Yeah, but I kind of wish you had been holdin' a full hand.
Huh? Full hand? What do you mean full hand?
Robert E. Lee, sir.
Oh.
Wouldn't have been bad. Let's go.
Welcome home, Colonel darlin'.
Your arm, Colonel Brittles.
Sir, you'll be surprised to know that Miss Dandridge and I are going to be...
Why, son, I knew it all the time.
Everybody on the post knew it, above the rank of second lieutenant.
Right, Mr. Pennell?
There will come a time, sir, when I'll be first lieutenant.
- Yeah, in 10 or 12 years. - Ten or 12 years.
Will you stay for the dance, Colonel?
If you'll excuse me, Miss Dandridge,
I gotta make my report first.
Ladies and gentlemen, thank you.
Thank you.
So, here they are, the dog-faced soldiers, the regulars,
the 50-cents-a-day professionals, riding the outposts of a nation.
From Fort Reno to Fort Apache, from Sheridan to Stockton,
they were all the same.
Men in dirty-shirt blue and only a cold page
in the history books to mark their passing.
But wherever they rode and whatever they fought for,
that place became the United States.