"James Tiptree Jr. - Yanqui Doodle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tiptree James Jr)

Yanqui Doodle

JAMES TIPTREE, JR.
Of course they have to visit a hospital. To show they care. But which hospital? Not a big base
hospital, but not a front-line station eitherтАФCongressional Armed Service Committee members are too
precious to go where real iron is flying. Not to mention the value of the half-dozen generals escorting the
fact-finding tour of the Bod├йguan front.

A perfect hospital is found. The town of San Izquierda, just inside the Bod├йguan border, has finally
been liberated by American troops after the Libras had nibbled at it several times, and each time been
run out by the Gu├йvaristas. After the sixth loss the GIs were sent in to take it conclusivelyтАФwhat was left
of it. Now the front has rolled forward twenty-five or fifty kilometersтАФdepending on whose maps you
usedтАФand a big mansion formerly owned by one of the dictator's pals has been converted into an
Intermediate Rehab Unit. The patients are a mix of GIs who would go back on duty, with some whose
condition was bad enough to invalid them back to base, or even home.

So now the cavalcade is driving toward San Izzy, trying to make time. This is the last event of the
Senators' day, and they've been delayed at Hona Base. There was an obstacle course demonstration by
U.S. field instructors, and a parade of Libra troops in training, and speeches. That caused the trouble;
even General Sternhagen has been moved to say more than a few words.

Senator Biller, the ranking Committee member, sits in the rear of the stretch Mercedes with two
American flags on the fenders. Behind him come two new '98 Caddies with the rest of the Committee
and some more generals, similarly beflagged. All the other escort vehicles bear twin flags, one American,
the other the official Libra flag, which had been somewhat hastily designed and is not everywhere
recognized with confidence.

The Senator sits between General Schehl and the interpreter. She is a neat and sultry-looking young
lady, whose grasp of such fundamental phrases as "founding fathers" is, Senator Biller feels, a trifle shaky.
He is wishing he could give her a short course in AmericanтАФ er, United StatesтАФhistory.

He is also musing on the Libra troops he had spoken with after their parade. The Freedom Fighters.
The average Freedom Fighter had a distressing tendency to look like a fifteen-year-old Hispanic
delinquent embracing an M-30.

"What did the Gu├йvaristas do to you?" he had asked one youth. "Why are you here?"

The youth looks at the ground, then into space. "Gu├йyas very bad," he says to the interpreter, who
amplifies, "Much oppression."

Biller persists. "What did they do to you? How did they oppress you?"

The boy says something cryptic. "They wanted to recruit him for the Army," the interpreter explains.

"But you're in the Army now," Biller says against his better judgment.

"Gu├й army very bad!" The interpreter smiles ravishingly. "Here is more better."

Looking around at Hona's substantial barracks, the lad's new uniform and boots, the slight but
perceptible bulge under his belt, Senator Biller can believe it.