"Dan Simmons - E-Ticket to 'Namland (2)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Simmons Dan)

Finally, acceptance: 'Platoon" and "Full Metal Jacker and "Casualties of War" and the other post-
trauma films have--despite the ballyhoo to the contrary little content, less philosophy. What they
do have is a shockingly correct texture--something quite close to the real smell of sweat and
crotch rot, something surprisingly near to the actual language and true fatigue and terrible
claustrophobia of a patrol in the boonies, something almost right about the fear that rises from
the actors on the screen and spreads to the audience like the stench from a day-old corpse.

And so, after two decades and with an entire new generation which has grown up bored with the
whole topic, after more changes in the texture of daily life than we can imagine or accept, I
think we're finally beginning to fee~-if not really understand-the true dimensions of the terrible
national traffic accident that was Vietnam.

But for some people, that's just the beginning of the process.

****


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E-TICKET TO 'NAMLAND


The twenty-eight Huey gunships moved out in single file, each hovering a precise three meters
above the tarmac, the sound of their rotors filling the world with a roar that could be felt in
teeth and bones and testicles. Owe above the treeline and gaining; altitude, the helicopters
separated into four staggered V-formations and the noise diminished to the point where shouts
could be heard.

"First time out?" cried the guide.

"What?" Justin Jeffries turned away from the open door where he had been watching the shadow of
their helicopter slide across the surface of the mirrored rice paddies below. He leaned toward the
guide until their combat helmets were almost touching.

"First time out?" repeated the guide. The man was small even for a Vietnamese. He wore a wide grin
and the uniform and shoulder patch of the old First Air Cav Division.

Jeffries was big even for an American. He was dressed in green shorts, a flowered Hawaiian shirt,
Nike running sandals, an expensive Rolex comlog, and a U.S. Army helmet that had become obsolete
the year he was born. Jeffries was draped about with cameras-, a compact Yashica SLR, a Polaroid
Holistic-360, and a new Nikon imager. He returned the guide's grin. "First time for us. We're here
with my wife's father."

Heather leaned over to join the conversation. "Daddy was here during ... you know ... the war.
They thought it might be good for him to take the Vet Tour." She nodded in the direction of a
short, solid, gray haired man leaning against the M-60 machine-gun mount near the door's safety
webbing. He was the only person in the cabin not wearing a.helmet. The back of his blue shirt was
soaked with sweat.