"Andy Duncan - Fortitude" - читать интересную книгу автора (Duncan Andy)

right? One day. Well, when I do, I'll go on back to New Jersey, back to my
wife and my kids, no job or nothing, no pension or nothing, empty-handed,
just good old Joe, good old Dad with nothing in his pockets as usual, that
is if they're still there, oh Jesus," and his voice broke, "if they're
still there waiting on me, waiting on fucking nothing, and then maybe
we'll all get together, the Angelos and the Pattons, for a nice little
dinner, maybe with caviar and crackers and, and, hell, what do rich people
eat? Fucking finger sandwiches, but in the meantime, Colonel -- let go of
me, you fathead son of a bitch -- in the meantime, Colonel, do you know
what you can do? Huh? You can go straight to hell! How about that?"
I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. I stood there watching the two
sergeants, enraged now, haul Joe Angelo away.
"That a fair deal, Colonel? Huh? That a fair goddamn deal?" He yanked a
hand free, ripped off his medal, and flung it at me. It bounced off my
chest, I suppose. I didn't feel it, but I heard it plink against a button,
and then the pavement. "Let go of me. I said I'm going, goddamn you! For
God's sake! Can't a man walk?"
Muscles taut and aching, forearm barely able to bear the weight, I
saluted. I held it after the little man was invisible in the crowd, for as
long as I could distinguish the sergeants' helmets bobbing. Only when they
were two bubbles among hundreds did I drop my trembling hand, and then
slowly.
I turned back to the officers and croaked, "If you'll excuse me,
gentlemen."
They broached goodbyes as I walked away, concentrating: shoulders back,
left foot, right foot, left. Alongside the walkway was a waist-high rail,
flowering shrubs on the other side. Hydrangeas? I gripped the rail for
support as I walked, hauling myself along left-handed. I heard murmurs
behind me, something about "the Old Man." Old Man to my soldiers in Mexico
at thirty, now Old Man at forty-six, and thirteen years to go -- No!
Mustn't think about that. Tendrils of gas seeped out from the shrubs,
through the railing, curled around my ankles, made my eyes tear up. I had
to say the words, I had to. My throat was on fire. I whispered, fast and
desperate, mouth foamy dry. "Sergeant, I do not know this man. Take him
away. Take him away, Sergeant, I do not know this man." I passed a flaming
barrel. A doughboy fed it leaflets, snatched them one by one from a
crumpled bundle beneath his arm.
VOTE THE BONUS
BONUSES NOW
BONUS OR A JOB
The doughboy gave me a queer look. The heat licked my face. I clasped my
forehead, forced myself to suck in air. Discipline, Georgie, discipline!
Focus! Some changes would be easy, others, not. I knew that. Destiny is
hard. Adjusting it is harder. Harder with every passing year. I knew that.
I could live with that. Fair deal, Joe, fair deal. "Take him away!" I
choked, and kicked free of the clutching gas.

Leave a real Army camp at night, and you can watch it vanish in the
rear-view mirror. Even under blackout conditions, there's always something
to see. But when I say goodbye to Thomson, and Mims wheels the Mercedes