"William C. Dietz - For More Than Glory" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dietz William)

This book is for my daughters Allison and Jessica,
both of whom know the meaning of тАЬgrit.тАЭ



1
War remains an art and, like all arts whatever its variation, will have its ending principles. Many men,
skilled either with sword or pen and sometimes with both, have tried to expound those principles. I heard
them once from a soldier of experience for whom I had a deep and well-founded respect. Many years
ago, as a cadet hoping some day to be an officer, I was poring over тАЬThe Principles of War,тАЭ listed in the
old Field Services Regulations, when the Sergeant-Major came upon me. He surveyed me with kindly
amusement. тАЬDonтАЩt bother your head about all them things, me lad,тАЭ he said. тАЬThereтАЩs only one principle
of war thatтАЩs this. Hit the other fellow as quick as you can and as hard as you can, where it hurts him
most, when he ainтАЩt looking.тАЭ



Sir William Slim

Defeat Into Victory

ABOARD SYNDICATE BASE 012, ON A MOON NICKNAMED
тАЬFLOATER,тАЭ IN ORBIT AROUND RIM WORLD CR-7893
The soft but insistent beep of the alarm served to summon Captain Frank Moy from the deep,
alcohol-induced slumber to which he had gradually become addicted. His eyes felt as if they were glued
shut and a sustained effort was required to force them open. Finally, welcomed into the darkness of his
cabin by the smoke alarmтАЩs Cyclops-like red eye, the exтАУnaval officer ordered the beeping sound to
тАЬStop, dammit,тАЭ and, thankfully, it did.

Then, rolling out of the rack the same way he had for more than twenty years, Moy managed to stand.
The only light came from the smoke alarm and the LEDs embedded in the console next to his bunk.
Seven of them were green but one glowed red. That was bad, very bad, but so was the pressure on
MoyтАЩs bladder. He took a step toward the head and swore when pain stabbed his brain. The light over
the stainless-steel sink came on as Moy lined up on the toilet and gave his body permission to let go.

Finally, once the pressure was relieved, the exтАУnaval officer turned to the mirror. What he saw made
Moy wince. Much of the once thick black hair had disappeared and what remained was heavily shot with
gray. The blue eyes were faded now, as if the light behind them had dimmed and might soon go out. A
field of black stubble covered cheeks so gaunt it appeared as if the skin rested on bone. A far cry from
the bright-eyed young stud who had graduated from the academy more than two decades before.

Moy shook his head in disgust, considered the possibility of shaving, and remembered the red LED.
Something, a sizable chunk of spaceborne rock was the most likely culprit, had entered the volume of
space that defined the moonтАЩs defensive zone and triggered a number of alarms. Odds were that the
clowns in the control center had dealt with the matter hours before and chosen to let him sleep. Still, once
the situation was cleared, the LED should have turned green.

Moy used half a glass of water to wash the foul taste out of his mouth and the other half to help him
swallow a couple of tablets. Then, gritting his teeth against the pain, he made his way into the middle of
the cabin. тАЬOpen com. Moy to control center . . . whoтАЩs the OD?тАЭ