Glory Page #4

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we'll be used only for manual labour.

You can't believe

the kind of things we hear.

lt's not true, is it?

About not being allowed to fight?

The men are all living for that day.

l know l am.

Don't bother about him.

He's just ignorant.

Excuse me.

For God's sake, come on!

Do that again.

Here, give him your weapon.

Do that again.

One dime, he can't do it.

- A dime on each of you.

- That's a bet.

Go on, boy. Go ahead.

Go ahead, Sharts.

- That's a dime on each of you.

- Double or nothing.

Attention, company!

Attention, company!

As you were.

Front and centre.

You're a good shot, private.

Thank you, sir.

Squirrel hunting.

- You ever killed a man?

- No, sir.

- But you're handy with a gun?

- Yes, sir.

Reload.

Faster.

Faster.

Faster!

Discharge your weapon.

Discharge your weapon.

Do it!

Now do it again. Only this time,

l want it done quickly!

A good man can fire

three aimed shots in a minute.

Major Forbes,

give me your Colt revolver.

- What?

- Your gun.

Give it to me.

Faster.

Reload.

Quickly. Faster!

Faster! Load.

Do it!

Do it!

Teach them properly, major.

Yes, sir.

Attention, company!

Ready!

Aim!

Fire!

Good morning, major.

You're up early.

l want to talk to you.

Certainly.

You wouldn't mind getting down

from your horse?

Better?

Why do you treat the men this way?

How should l treat them?

Like men.

And what about Thomas?

Why are you so hard on him?

He's not a very good soldier.

l'm getting these men

ready for battle.

They already march well.

They're disciplined.

No thanks to you.

- l beg your pardon?

- You heard me.

Who do you think you are,

acting the high-up colonel?

You seem to forget l know you.

And so does Thomas.

Forbes!

lf you don't believe

in what we're doing here...

...you shouldn't be a part of it.

A part of what?

'' Left, right, left!? Little finger

along the seams of your trousers!?''

Marching is probably

all they'll ever get to do.

lt is my job to get these men ready.

And l will.

They have risked their lives to be here.

They have given up their freedom.

l owe them as much as they have given.

l owe them my freedom...

...my life, if necessary.

Maybe so do you, Cabot.

l think you do.

Develop! Guard! Thrust!

Develop! Guard! Thrust!

Develop! Guard!

You're not in dancing school, son.

Take his head off!

Jesus, Mary and Joseph!

What have we here?

Bonnie Prince Charlie

and his little toy bayonet.

You're not reading your books now.

Go on, go on. Get over there.

- Now stab me.

- What?

Stab me.

Come on, stab, not tickle.

Hit me.

Come on.

You prissy little schoolgirl!

You're the worst soldier

in this company. Now hit me!

No shame, son.

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