In the territory of New Mexico, toward the end of the Civil War...
an Indian, Sierra Charriba, and his 47 Apache warriors...
raided, sacked, and looted an area almost three times the size of Texas.
On October 31, 1864...
an entire company of the 5th United States Cavalry...
sent out from Fort Benlin to destroy him...
was ambushed and massacred at the Rostes ranch.
We are indebted to Timothy Ryan, bugler, 5th United States Cavalry...
the company's sole survivor, for his diary...
the only existing record of this tragedy, and the campaign that followed.
Let go of me! I want my mom!
Pony soldier, I am Sierra Charriba.
Who you send against me now?
- Lieutenant! - Sir?
Take the first, second and third squads and cover the ridge sides.
- Yes, sir. - Lf I signal you to come, you come.
If I signal you to charge, you charge.
If I signal you to run, you follow me and run.
- Otherwise hold your position. - Yes, sir.
- First squad to the right. - Mr. Potts.
Second squad to the left.
Major.
I'm a long way from Gettysburg. Any suggestions?
Let's go have a look, slow and easy.
To the left. To the right.
November 1.
This morning I returned with the relief column to the scene of the massacre.
The Major had expressed little hope...
that any of the civilians or troopers would be alive.
But Samuel Potts, the Major's scout...
knew Apaches well and said they never kill boy children.
They take them as captives and raise them as warriors.
He felt the three Rostes boys may still be alive.
But he had no such hope for their sister, Beth.
He was right.
I looked down at her and thought with hatred of Riago...
our Apache scout, who led us to this place.
His body was never found...
and I will always wonder if he escaped the massacre or was part of it.
Hold your positions!
- That scarf belonged to Lt. Brannin. - That's for you, Major.
I hope he was dead when they did that to him.
If he was dead they wouldn't have bothered.
- Go cut him down, Sergeant. - Brannin was a soldier, Amos.
Goes with the pretty girls and the pension.
How much chance have I of getting those children back?
One chance in a thousand, I'd say...
if they gave you a division and a year to do it, at least.
Much chance of that, is there?
I'll take five days to get men, horses, ordnance.
On the fifth day I want you back at Fort Benlin to tell me where Charriba is.
I'll get the children and I'll get him.
- Sam. - Yeah?
Don't get yourself killed. That would inconvenience me.
Ryan!
With so many troopers away...
five Confederate prisoners broke out of Fort Benlin and escaped.
We trapped them on our way back.
Evening, Ben.
Evening, Amos.
Should have tried it before I took command.
Command of what, the burial detail?
- Move them out, Lieutenant. - Move them out!
Troops, right! Pair of twos, right!
I brought back your wandering boys, Captain.
Now you tell me how they got loose.
They clubbed two guards and went over the wall.
I'd like to point out, Amos, at the time of the escape...
131 men of this command were half a day's march from here...
either digging graves or rotting in the sun, waiting to be buried.
I want every prisoner that can walk on this parade ground in 10 minutes.
Including those in irons.
Bugler, sound assembly.
They're gonna give us a party, Captain.
It sure looks like it.
You thieves, renegades, deserters...
you gentlemen of the South. I want some volunteers.
I want volunteers to fight the Apache Sierra Charriba.
I need horse soldiers. Men who can ride, men who can shoot.
In return I promise you nothing.
Saddle sores, short rations, maybe a bullet in your belly.
And free air to breathe, a fair share of tobacco, quarter pay.
My good will.
Best offices for pardons and paroles when we get back.
I don't know what that might be worth to you.
But I do know if any man signs on with me and then attempts to desert...
I will shoot him out of hand.
From you I'll accept one man with some experience of command...
as an acting lieutenant.
Captain Tyreen...
does the prospect of serving under your country's flag once again...
seem more attractive than dragging its chains in this prison?
It is not my country, Major Dundee.
I damn its flag and I damn you...
and I would rather hang than serve.
Corporal Veitch just died, sir.
And hang you will!
You and your four good friends.
You're going to stand trial on a charge of murder.
That guard you clubbed just died.
You've been found guilty of the charges and specifications here mentioned.
It is the sentence of this court that on November 6...
at 6:00 a. m. You shall be hanged by the neck until dead.
Remove the prisoners, with the exception of Benjamin Tyreen.
Right face, forward march.
These proceedings are closed.
Sit down.
Five years.
You're still blaming me instead of yourself, huh?
I'll say one thing, Ben, you sure haven't mellowed any.
When are you going to learn you made all your own troubles?
Who had me cashiered out of the regiment?
I cast one vote out of five.
Two of those votes were for my acquittal.
But not you. Not my own captain.
Not my own friend.
The conscience of the court was not my concern.
What did concern you, Amos?
- That the man I killed was a Yankee? - He was your brother officer.
It was a duel of honor.
You're Southern born, you knew what that meant.
If he had killed me, and he had a chance...
- would you have convicted him? - I would.
You're a liar.
You voted to please the generals in Washington.
You voted a promotion for Amos Charles Dundee.
You're a traitor to your country, Ben. You gonna blame me for that, too?
Sergeant!
Yes, sir.
I should have known better than to try to talk to you.
You'll try again, Major.
The Major had asked for thieves, renegades and deserters...
and that's what he got. After four hours he had accepted only three.
Ryan, what are you doing here?
I'm volunteering, too, sir. I've earned it, sir.
You'll need a bugler, sir.
- Stand over there. - Yes, sir.
Benjamin Priam, sir.
What do you do?
What did you say?
- Speak up, I can't hear you. - I'm a horse thief!
You a good horse thief?
The best there is, sir.
Sign your name or make your mark.
I need horses and mules, Mr. Priam.
Here's the amount you'll have to spend...
and here is your safe-conduct.
- Do you need an escort? - No, sir.
He'll be back, sir.
Yes, sir. I will, sir.
- Corporal. - Yes, sir.
- Get Lt. Andreen. - On duty, Major.
- Lt. Fredericks. - Hospital.
- Lewison. - Officer of the day.
- Sgt. Cable? - Patrol.
- Get me Lt. Graham. - Yes, sir.
- Five hours, five men. - You need a regiment.
Charriba can't be taken by a pick-up company of garrison troopers.
You should know that by now.
What are you trying to say, Frank?
Come on, speak up. Spit it out!
I'm not trying to say that the massacre was your fault.
I'm saying that you should recognize that your transfer to this post...
was a disciplinary action, pure and simple.
And if you try to fight your own war again as you did at Gettysburg, they'll break you.
They won't break me, not if I get Charriba and those kids.
Has it occurred to you, Major...
that the Apache will undoubtedly enter Mexico for the winter?
Mexico presently contains an army of 30,000 French soldiers.
Yes, it's occurred to me.
Frank, I am a professional soldier, I'm not a prison keeper.
Now this is something that's gotta be done and I'm gonna do it...
now!
Are you pursuing the Apache, Major, or a promotion?
Whatever my reasons are, Frank...
you'd better get down on your knees and pray to God I don't take you with me.
I suppose you intend to strip this garrison.
I will take just 10 men from the command. Volunteers.
The bulk of my force will be made up of prisoners.
You'd be well advised not to accept Confederate prisoners...
even if they're forthcoming.
In my absence, you'll assume command of the garrison.
Discharge all duties incumbent upon that command.
I have, as you can see...
appended to your orders a statement over my signature...
to the effect that I assume total and complete responsibility...
for all such actions.
Here. Does that cover it?
No, sir.
I consider it my responsibility to notify General Carlton...
of what I believe to be an irresponsible and dangerous course of action.
- Do your worst. - You could be shot for this, Amos.
My executioners will have to stand in line.
That's all, Captain.
Corporal Tinney!
Sir?
Where in hell is Lt. Graham?
Carry on.
- The Major's waiting to see you, sir. - Thank you, Corporal.
- Sir! - Lieutenant Graham.
- They're not much, are they? - No, sir, they don't seem to be.
Cigar?
Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.
- Coffee? - Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.
Why did they put you in the cavalry, Lieutenant?
- Sir? - Why did they assign you to the cavalry?
You're ordnance, aren't you?
No, sir. Artillery.
- Artillery? - Yes, sir.
As Napoleon said, "Only thunderbolts can be preferred to cannon."
- Napoleon? - Yes, sir!
You'll do, Lieutenant. You'll have to.
I need rifles and ammunition.
It's all listed there in that inventory: Number of rounds, types of ordnance.
You go get them for me.
Forthwith.
Yes, sir!
Lieutenant.
- Sir? - Where are you going?
I said, "Where are you going?"
To obtain...
these weapons?
And just how and where do you intend to accomplish that?
It has come to my attention that a supply train from the Ordnance Depot...
at Denver, en route to the 2nd California Column...
now garrisoned in Santa Fe...
should be encamped tomorrow morning at the Sand River crossing...
thirty miles away.
Now, if you have the opportunity, you might just take C Troop.
See if you can be of any assistance.
Yes, sir.
November 4.
Lt. Graham had no official orders, but this didn't stop him.
He was very persuasive, with Sgt. Gomez and C Troop standing by.
He took what the Major needed.
We returned with 48 new Henry rifles, 5,000 rounds of ammunition...
and a baby howitzer for the lieutenant to play with.
I see you transferred back to the artillery, Lieutenant.
Yes, sir.
Over a hundred civilian prisoners volunteered...
and from them the Major took six, and they were doubtful at best.
While we waited for horses, the rebel prisoners that we needed...
watched the gallows being built.
The gallows on which the Major will hang Sgt. Chillum, the Hadley brothers...
Jimmy Lee, and their captain.
Captain.
- You figure he's bluffing? - Sure, he's bluffing.
He needs us much more than we need him.
Captain, that ain't no dance floor they're building for us.
We just want you to know, sir, that whatever you figure on...
we're all with you.
Without Confederate volunteers, the Major was forced to accept cowboys...
drifters and drunks.
You wanted Injun-fighting, mule-packing, whiskey-drinking volunteers, sir.
Well, by God, you've got one.
What am I going to do with you?
He's the biggest drunk, but the best packer in the territory, sir.
- What's your name? - Wiley.
Wiley, make your mark.
- Whiskey? - All you can drink.
When you've earned it.
Sergeant, throw him in a cell and dry him out.
- Come on, Wiley. - I never seen anything like it.
- How many is that, Ryan? - Twelve, sir.
- Name? - Dalhstrom.
Any man with a just cause should travel with the word of God.
With all due respect, God has nothing to do with it.
I intend to smite the wicked, not save the heathen.
Seventeen years ago, I married John and Mary Rostes.
Who that destroyeth my flock, I will so destroy.
Reverend.
November 5.
The Confederate prisoners are angry and uneasy, waiting for tomorrow...
the day the rebel captain and his four companions are to hang.
We are fearful of the consequences.
All of us know the Major needs the Captain and his men...
but the Major is stubborn.
I think he will hang them if they don't volunteer.
I would like to volunteer, sir. Me and my six coloureds.
I haven't asked for volunteers from the command.
- We're doing the asking, sir. - Why?
To fight, sir.
We've been standing guard and cleaning stables for nearly two years.
Tomorrow morning you ask the officer of the day to see me.
You and your six coloureds.
Thank you, sir.
The rebel captain Ben Tyreen's compliments, sir.
He will see you now.
He will?
Yes, sir.
And he further states that he will volunteer himself and his men as needed...
for double rations for all prisoners plus Gen. Carlton's written guarantee...
that all Southern soldiers who serve with you, sir...
will be automatically granted full pardon.
Now, sir, if I may be so bold as to suggest...
Guard!
- Open it up. - Yes, sir.
Major, it has come to my attention...
You kill one of my soldiers and then have the gall to dictate terms to me?
You're a damn traitor, Ben.
You were a rebel before you ever saw the South.
And now you're a murderer.
Tomorrow morning, I am going to hang you and be done with you.
Jailer.
Sergeant!
How many men do you need?
Twenty. Good ones.
Until the Apache is taken or destroyed, only that.
Agreed.
Then you have my word, Major. We will serve.
But after that we're going home.
If it's too rich for you...
hang us now and be done with it.
I just might hang you and that Injun to the same tree, Ben.
You'll play hell getting it done, Amos.
This man will hold lieutenant's rank under myself and Lt. Graham.
Will you serve?
Until the Apache is taken or destroyed, sir.
Attention!
Lieutenant Graham, get away from that damn bell!
Priam, they're a bunch of Roman-nosed, broken-gutted, spavined...
sore-footed, swaybacked dogs. You call yourself a horse thief?
Samuel Potts!
Those Injuns you got with you look kind of shy, Samuel.
- They ain't sure they're welcome, Amos. - Get on up here. I'll buy you a drink.
Ryan!
Today Mr. Potts got back. With him was Riago.
If Lt. Brannin were alive he would hang the Apache...
and I would help.
Yeah, but where in Mexico?
The children?
Well, they're skinny, but doing better than you'd expect.
Making their own arrows now.
That's Riago who rode in with you, isn't it?
They all look alike to you, Amos?
I asked you a question, Sam.
That's Riago.
Where'd you find him?
Didn't. He found me.
He said after the massacre he hit for the bush, stayed on their trail...
figured I'd be along sooner or later.
I believe him, Amos.
Who's the other one?
He's got a personal score to settle.
Seems old Charriba wouldn't take him along with him on this last raid.
Said he couldn't be trusted.
Now he's got his mind set on killing the old man.
Do you expect me to believe these Apaches will turn against their own families?
Track down their own people?
Why not? Everyone else seems to be doing it.
Lt. Brannin didn't trust Riago. Right, Ryan?
Yes, sir.
I'm afraid I go along with that, Sam.
Well, you go along with Lt. Brannin then.
Well, you go along without me.
Sam Potts.
Looks like the Union jackets you gave us didn't quite fit, Major.
So I see.
The last day was spent getting acquainted with our comrades-in-arms.
Learning how to handle the pack animals with sureness and dispatch.
And learning the character of our officers.
Troop, fall in!
Foot soldiers, I want a company of twos on my right.
Cavalry, fall in 20 paces in front of me.
I want a column of twos on my right! Line up here.
Get that mule out of there!
Fall them in with the artillery, 20 paces in front of me!
Column of twos on my right!
Fall in!
If I tell you one more time, you're court-martialed!
Why don't you find a horse and mount up, Lieutenant Graham?
You don't seem to be doing very well on foot.
Mount up!
November 7, and we were ready, all who volunteered.
Civilians, criminals, Southerners, and Negroes.
Gentlemen, we've given the Major our parole...
and we will serve him until I say we will not.
And until that time...
he will be your commanding officer and will be treated as such.
And any sign of disrespect to him will be taken as a personal insult by me.
Don't worry none, Uncle Ben, when the time comes...
we'll turpentine that caulky, chicken-picking Yankee.
I am not your uncle, you redneck peckerwood.
And one more word out of you and you'll end this campaign in chains.
Attention!
Good luck, Frank. Give my regards to the General.
I mean for you to have that pleasure within the week, Amos.
If you don't, good luck.
I have but three orders of march:
If I signal you to come, you come. If I signal you to charge, you charge.
And if I signal you to run, you follow me and run like hell.
Move them out, Lieutenant.
- Twos right! - Twos right!
- Left turn! - Left turn!
- Whistle me a tune, son. - Yes, sir.
November 18. We are now in Texas approaching Mexico.
And the Major does not mean to be surprised...
by Confederate patrols out of Fort Davis.
- No fires tonight, Sergeant. - Yes, sir.
Trooper Hadley, you are not part of my gun crew.
Cold coffee again.
It's 50 miles to the border, and 86 to Fort Davis.
I wonder if we'll make it.
Make what, Sergeant Chillum?
Make it back to where we come from, Captain.
We'll make it. It's just a question of time.
It was just after dawn and we were starting for the Rio Grande when Riago returned.
I still don't trust him.
- Twos right! - Major.
Says he got close enough to smell the stink of many white men.
I wager they're waiting for us at the river, Amos.
- We'd better walk on water. - Let's find out what we're made of.
Boy!
Full gallop, son. We'll let those rebels know there's a Yankee army come to call.
Troop, halt!
Mr. Potts. Sergeant Gomez. First 12 men across as skirmishers.
- Troop right, roll! - Lieutenant Graham, move them out!
Column of twos.
Confederate cavalry, Lieutenant.
We don't have much time.
Your word's worth about as much as your cause.
- Then why don't you release him from it? - Ben, you gave it, you break it.
And be damned to you.
- What do you want from us anyway? - I've got what I want, Sergeant.
I've got his word.
- Sergeant Chillum. - Sir.
- Move them out. - Which way, Captain?
To Mexico, you bloody idiot!
November 19. We are in Mexico...
and this day's events have made it clear to everyone...
that the Major's present war is not with the South, but with the Apache.
- Lunge! - That's very good, Aesop.
Thank you, sir.
But as Napoleon said, only thunderbolts can be preferred to cannon.
- Good night. - Good night, sir.
Order arms.
Thank you, Priam.
Boy, I'm speaking to you!
You're forgetting your manners, nigger.
Come on over here and pull off my boots.
Lieutenant Graham.
Check the pickets.
Did you hear me, boy?
Do it, boy, now.
Let me, son.
Let go off my leg!
Preacher, you sure kick up a lot of dust with your sermon.
Don't forget your footgear, sonny.
- You started it, now finish it. - No, we're gonna finish it.
By doggies, Preacher, now we're gonna get in line for you.
- I'm gonna cut me a piece of you first. - You southern trash sit down!
Was you talking to me, Sergeant?
Now maybe you don't know it, but you're fixing to get tried.
You and all the rest of your bluebellies.
Trooper!
Mr. Aesop, we would like to compliment you and your men...
on the way you handled the river crossing this afternoon.
Thank you, sir.
That gesture was necessary. I'm sorry it was so painful for you.
Mr. Aesop is a fine soldier. It won't happen again.
What happened is what it's all about, Ben.
If it was as simple as that, Amos.
We can take care of our own.
If you can, you waited too long to do it.
All you people, all the way down the line.
"You people"?
I'm not going to thank you for keeping your word this afternoon at the river.
You were obliged to.
But it wasn't easy, and I respect you for it.
I don't need respect from a man who took his kin to fight against their own brothers.
I took soldiers to fight for their country.
- You betrayed it. - What country have I to betray?
I'm fighting for the only country I have left, and I kill men in a hopeless war for it.
But not men who were my neighbors and my friends.
Friends.
The best friend you ever had was the man who got you into West Point.
He was killed with the 2nd Michigan in Chickamauga last winter.
- Did you know that? - I knew that, Amos.
You're a would-be cavalier, an Irish potato farmer with a plumed hat...
fighting for a white-columned plantation house...
you never had and never will.
How exactly do you see yourself, Major Dundee?
Have you ever stopped to think why they made you a jailer instead of a soldier?
December 22, 1864. We are five weeks into Mexico...
and have lost all contact with the Apache.
Even the scout, Samuel Potts, admits this, and I'm glad.
I wish to avenge the massacre, but I remember it too well, and I'm afraid.
How can we catch the wind or destroy an enemy we never see?
It is Christmas Eve, the year of our Lord, 1864...
and there is a deep and reverent sense of peace and tranquility in the camp tonight.
Mr. Potts and Riago, the Apache...
indulge in a high-spirited, brotherly bout of wrestling.
At stake is Mr. Potts' gold railroad watch...
and the Apache's shotgun with the silver inlaid stock.
It is a friendly contest.
Come on, Injun, get up.
There he is over there, go get him!
- That one brought him. - Get up!
I think he's going to take you, Samuel. You know why?
Because the artillery's betting on you.
Do you know Lt. Graham's bet $5 on you?
Artillery and a lieutenant, to boot.
Did you ever hear of an artilleryman winning a bet, or a girl...
or a war when there was cavalry about?
- Who bet against me? - Me.
- Just one, Major. He wants to talk. - Bring him in.
He says he's a good Apache, and he's peaceful...
and for nobody to shoot at him.
- Is he a Chiricahua? - He surely is.
Why would an old man like that be raiding with Charriba?
He says, why not? It's their land, all of it.
Now he'd like a little soft food as his teeth are no longer with us.
Why did he quit?
Charriba kicked him out.
He says he's too old, much too old to fight anymore.
Ask him why I should believe him.
Well?
He says Charriba's camp is across the river.
He'll lead us there. They'll be asleep.
Does he expect me to believe that?
Let him lead us into an ambush?
He says his heart is true, Major...
and he brings proof.
What kind of proof, Mr. Potts?
The children.
He's brought the children.
Pretty good.
Go on, sing up.
Soup's on.
Here's one for you, shorty.
Come on, buck, get around here where you can eat.
- Can I have seconds? - Get in here.
- Don't we get any? - Watch out, don't spill it.
Don't look to me like them gut-eaters has been feeding them very good.
- Did you ever see a fat Apache? - I ain't yet.
This is good.
You're going back now that you've got what you came for, Major?
Everything points to that old man talking straight.
Potts is half convinced.
I'm more than half.
Did it ever occur to you that Charriba gave us what we wanted...
because he intends to take it back again?
It's occurred to me.
I want two of your best men to help Sgt. Gomez take the children home.
We'll still outnumber you, Amos.
You surely will, Ben. Now go do as you're told.
Yes, sir.
But only until the Apache is taken or destroyed.
Sgt. Gomez headed back to safety with the three Rostes boys...
while we followed the old Apache toward Sierra Charriba.
Lieutenant, take 12 men across as skirmishers.
First 12 men, follow me.
- Sergeant Chillum, take them through. - Yes, sir.
Get them back to the far side of the river!
Back to the river!
- Try and regroup on the far bank! - Hadley, run them out!
Keep moving, Lieutenant Graham, there's nobody left to shoot at out here.
Merry Christmas.
He was making a doll for his girl child. Riago!
How did they know?
They're Apache.
Just what in hell is he?
I'm a tame Apache.
A camp dog.
Christian Indian.
Charriba is Apache.
Sam, you take this camp dog and go find me Charriba.
That's what you pay us for, Amos.
- Wiley, did you get hit? - No, sir.
One of them damn mules kicked me.
Fourteen men killed, sir. Thirteen wounded.
Four critically.
70% of all stores lost, 20% ammunition...
and 60% of livestock either killed or stolen.
- Damn it to bloody Confederate hell! - What?
- Sorry. - He's all right, Doctor.
He'll live forever and have a hundred children.
But if time and battle prove that you have a weakness...
for being shot in that vicinity, I'd wear an iron board inside my pants.
You tell him go easy with that, Major, or I'll shoot you right between the eyes.
You patrolled this whole area with Grant in '47, didn't you?
Yes. The tequila was excellent.
How far would you say we are from the nearest food and shelter?
About a week's march. Maybe less.
There's a pretty village, and rather friendly.
If you're really serious about replenishing our supplies...
there's a well-stocked garrison I could recommend just about here.
But we'd probably have to tangle with some French Lancers.
That's one thing I plan to avoid.
Major, we can't follow the Apache.
I'm not letting go of that Injun.
- Boy! - Sir!
Pass the word to the command we move out in the morning.
And bring me a bottle of that medicinal brandy.
There is no more brandy, sir, except at the bottom of the river.
Now this time, Lieutenant, try and hold still.
Prepare to move out in the morning.
We left a lot at the bottom of the river.
We ask thee, Lord, to take these soldiers who have fallen in thy service.
Amen.
We got whipped, Major.
Burying your dead is not going to change it.
January 9, 1865.
Sgt. Gomez and the troopers returned today.
The Rostes boys are well and safe.
This made us feel better, but not for long.
He's not running anymore.
He's waiting.
Let's move. Mount up!
January 10.
Two more died last night.
I'm afraid all the wounded will perish unless we rest.
I wonder whether any of us will ever return.
The war of rebellion and Fort Benlin seem very far away.
The village is occupied.
The blockhouse, there are 10, 15 men.
Regulars, I think. I don't know.
Their garrison is about six hours away...
and about 300 Lancers, Legionnaires, or maybe less.
We'll move on the village at sunup.
Dismount! Prepare to fight on foot!
- Horses to the rear. - Get those horses!
- Point blank range. - Fuse timing zero.
Unload.
Locked, loaded and primed, and ready for firing.
- Stand by. - Standing by, sir.
Boy, whistle me a tune.
Will you show the colors, sir?
No, Lieutenant, we will not show the colors.
All right, Sam, make it short and to the point.
Hey, get out here!
Compliments, Major Amos Dundee, irregular United States Cavalry.
You have five minutes to surrender your arms and stores...
- or he's going to cut loose. - He would not dare.
This is an act of aggression against a friendly power...
- an outrageous breach of international law. - Sonny...
the Major ain't no lawyer.
You've now got four minutes.
Sergeant, I want to talk to the mayor.
- There seems to be no end to it. - What did you say?
We've been attacked by Apaches, by local bandits...
by freebooters from Texas, then liberated by the French...
and now United States Cavalry.
Unfortunately, you came too late. We have nothing to give you.
No food, no guns, no women.
That is what you want, isn't it?
That's why you come here without flying your country's brave flag.
Are you speaking for these people? You're not Mexican, are you?
My husband was the doctor of this village.
But he was also the doctor for the Juaristas.
He died there, where they did.
I've paid for my place here.
Well, I'm sorry for that, ma'am, but we've come a long way.
I need fresh horses and food. My men are hungry.
They are no more hungry than this village.
They are willing to share everything they have got with you, Major...
most particularly their hunger.
Would you like to see the children in our dispensary...
whose sickness is starvation?
- Lieutenant Graham, fire! - Sir!
Sgt. Gomez, slaughter two mules, distribute the meat...
and whatever stores you find in that blockhouse to the people of the village...
- and to this lady. - Teresa. Teresa Maria Santiago.
- Ma'am. Ryan! - Yes, sir.
Lieutenant!
With beauty such as yours, this village is rich beyond comparison.
Lieutenant Tyreen!
God save the Queen.
We entered the village to take food and horses...
but instead gave away our own, and everyone was thankful.
Our wounds were tended by a German lady...
who spoke English and was pretty, if somewhat old.
- Hold it there, will you? - Thank you, ma'am.
Also, a very lovely Mexican girl who was kindness itself, gentle and young.
Don't worry, son, it ain't near your heart.
To the victors belong the spoils.
Well, Ben, you look quite the gentleman.
After the war, Amos...
the Tyreens of County Clair become the landed gentry of Virginia.
It's not over yet.
By midnight tonight I want every man in this command drunker than a fiddler's bitch.
At that point, our prisoners will escape and run for help.
But we will not discover this until sunup.
Tomorrow night, after following us all day...
that French cavalry will camp and prepare to attack our disorganized rabble.
But before they make their move, we will steal them blind and be on our way.
You are either...
a $70, red-wool, pure-quill military genius...
or the biggest damn fool in Northern Mexico.
No question of it.
You haven't got the temperament to be a liberator, Amos.
I don't?