While other westerns squinted into the sunset,
F Troop tripped over a cactus.
The setting sounded serious enough: Fort Courage,
somewhere on the post–Civil War frontier. The U.S. Cavalry. Indian territory.
Tension in the West.
But instead of hardened soldiers, you got Captain
Wilton Parmenter — a man accidentally promoted to hero status after surviving a
battle mostly by hiding. He wore the uniform of a fearless leader and the
expression of someone who just realized he left the oven on back east.
His troops weren’t much help. They couldn’t
organize a patrol, let alone a picnic. Marching formations looked like
interpretive dance. If there had been an award for “Least Likely to Defend the
Frontier,” F Troop would’ve won.
Meanwhile, the Hekawi tribe was running a smarter
operation than the U.S. Army. Instead of plotting raids, they quietly partnered
with the post traders to sell supplies back to the fort at a profit. Peace
through capitalism.
There were gunfights, technically. But they felt
like they might end in someone apologizing.
At a time when television cowboys were stoic and
square-jawed, F Troop showed up in buckskin and pratfalls. It didn’t mock the
West so much as gently bump into it and spill the beans.
It was a western, yes. Just one where the cavalry
needed adult supervision.
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