The Lives of a Bengal Lancer

All right. 2:
30 tomorrow.

Thank you. Goodbye.

Thanks, Sergeant.

Report of horse rations,

Thirtieth Hussars.

Regimental

and general files.

Now, each of these buttons represents troops.

Do you understand?

Yes, sir.

Good.

The buttons are thickest up near

the Northwest Frontier.

Oh, yes, always.

We have 300 million

people to protect.

And most of the danger

is there.

It's so romantic

to a greenhorn like me.

Kipling and all that,

you know.

Romantic?

Well, at first, yes.

A- another button

to move.

41st Bengal Lancers.

Here, near the pass.

The pass?

Does that mean-

It means nothing

but maneuvers.

As CoI. Stone says

in his report here.

You hear that firing,

Hamilton?

Typical sniping fire, sir.

Yes, and Afridi muskets

every one of them.

Not a shot

from our detachment.

Good. Hendrickson's

a good soldier.

Rough on him,

having those Afridi swine

popping away at his men

and not able

to return fire.

Well, he'll get a citation

if this plan works.

Plan's good enough, sir,

if it were anybody but Mohammed Khan.

He's a clever dog.

Yes, of course he is.

I ought to know.

But he's nibbling

at our bait this time.

And if we can once

draw him down

out of those hills

far enough, out into the open

so that we can

cut off his retreat,

we've got him red-handed!

And that's what

I've been waiting for,

for 15 years, Hamilton.

Afridi swine. When do we

go into action, Hendrickson?

On no account return fire.

CoI. Stone's orders.

ColoneI's orders.

Narain Singh.

Now can we start something?

ColoneI's orders,

McGregor.

But the old fooI

couldn't have foreseen this.

I'd like to have you

with me in a war,

but for peace time,

you're a bit too-

Too...

Too impulsive.

Machine guns!

Forward!

Most unfortunate,

the command

devolved upon you.

Of course you didn't

know my orders.

I did know them, sir.

Why didn't

you obey them?

You call yourself

a soldier?

That's all.

The Colonel knows India,

McGregor. You don't.

You're right, I don't.

I'm just a fooI

Scotch-Canadian.

Came into your outfit

to get action.

He's got a ramrod

for a backbone.

He's a terror for drilling,

but when it comes to the real thing-

McGregor,

the Colonel has the right

to act as he thinks best

and say what he pleases.

Mount!

One more thing, sir.

Two replacements come in

today from Delhi.

Paperwork.

When we came into

the regiment as boys,

we didn't know that this

was 9l10ths of soldiering.

No.

We thought and acted

rather like McGregor.

Mmm.

What about

these two replacements?

What are they sending

to us now?

From the Blues:

Lt. Forsythe.

The Blues, eh? Well, that's

a fashionable regiment.

All spit and polish.

Who's the other one?

From Sandhurst:

Lt. Stone.

What?

From Sandhurst?

What, they're sending me

a young cub,

not dry behind

the ears yet? Unseasoned?

Straight from,

fr-from military college

to the Frontier?

Oh, bless me.

Hmm, what'd you say

his name was?

Donald Stone, sir.

Hmm.

And who asked you

to interfere

in my personal affairs?

Will you forget

that you're my coloneI

for a moment, sir?

Yes.

Look here, Tom.

In about two years,

you'll be retired.

So you sent for my son

because you feel sorry

for me, is that it?

Not at all.

The idea was to keep

the name of Stone

in the 41st

after you're gone.

There's no room for

sentimentality in the army.

Hardly fair to ship him home

without a triaI.

Still, he'll measure up

to my standards,

or out he goes.

Of course.

And at the first sign

of favoritism,

from you or anyone else,

there'll be trouble.

And that's an order,

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