Hostiles Page #2

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that the chief gets there

safely, without incident.

Why are you telling me this?

You speak as good

a native dialect as anyone.

Know the trails between here

and Montana as well as anyone.

-Do you not?

-I've been over them some.

I'm assigning a detail

to accompany the chief

and his people.

And, quite frankly,

you're the only one

I can count on to get

the job done right.

So, you will lead

the party to Montana.

See the chief back

to his homeland.

Arrange the others

back on the reservation.

And from there

you will cut off East

to Fort Mason

for your mustering out.

With respect, sir,

I'm not leading that cutthroat

and his brood of bastards

and b*tches anywhere.

I'm afraid it's an order.

I'm afraid

I ain't obeying it. Sir.

You're retiring,

are you not?

I'm sure

you don't want to tarnish

your record

at this late date

with a court-martial.

To tell you the truth,

I don't give a damn.

Well, you do give a damn about

your pension, don't you?

Let me

tell you something, Captain.

Aside from losing

one's mind,

there is very little to do

for an old captain

besides sit

and whittle and whistle

and wait for the postman

to bring him

his pension check.

It would just be a damn shame

for a man such as yourself

who's put in the time

to come up short in the end.

(CHUCKLES)

JOE:

You have any idea

who that son-of-a-b*tch is

and what he's done?

I know he was considered

a very tough adversary

in his day.

And now

he is a dying old man.

No, he's a butcher.

Then the two of you

ought to get along just fine.

Shut the hell up,

you f***ing pasty-faced--

You have never seen

a lick of war.

-You have no idea...

-No.

No idea

what it does to a man.

I've killed savages.

I've killed plenty of them.

'Cause

that's my f***ing job.

And from what

I hear, Captain,

there was never a man happier

in his work.

Look.

-Hmm.

-I saw what happened

to the 4th when Yellow Hawk

and his dog soldiers

got done with them.

-(CHUCKLES)

-And there wasn't a...

Don't you dare laugh.

There wasn't enough left

of those poor men

to fill a slop pail.

Understand...

When we lay our heads down

out here,

we're all prisoners.

I hate them.

I got a war bag of reasons

to hate them.

Skinny Figler, Edwin Tate--

Captain,

I just don't give a damn

how you personally feel

about Yellow Hawk.

I don't.

What I care about is this,

a direct order

signed by President Harrison.

So, you've got

just over 24 hours

to pick and provision

your detail.

Should you decide

to disobey this order,

you'll consider yourself

confined to barracks

pending a court-martial.

Stop!

This will be done.

And it will be done by you.

Now you're dismissed.

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