"Dafydd ab Hugh, Brad Linaweawer DOOM: Knee Deep in the Dead (english)" - читать интересную книгу автора

He turned, and I Georged him. Full-body swing; came
out of Orlando, where I grew up. Picked up speed over
Parris Island, hooked in at Kefiristan, and turned off the
lights of Mr. Lieutenant Weems in pik Nizganij.
Alas, they only flickered. Power was restored. The dork
didn't have a glass jaw; have to give him that.
Weems sprawled messily in the mud, and a couple of
the boys were on me like monkeys on a tree. Weems
flopped for a bit like a giant spider, then he found his
hands and knees. He glared at me for a moment, an evil
smile cracking his face. "Later," he said. Then he turned
back to Goforth. "That don't mean crap, gunnery ser-
geant; now take down those menЧor are you going to
frag me, instead?"
Goforth looked at me, looked at Weems, looked at the
ground. Then he clicked his M-92 to rock'n'roll and
quietly said, "FoxЧtake down those men."
I closed my eyes, listening to powder hiss, bullets
crack, the metal clang of receivers slamming back and
home. The screams of the dying. The shouts of the
victors. I smelled the smoke from the smokeless power,
the primer, fresh blood.
I'm in hell, I remember thinking; I'm in hell.
We mopped up the enemy troops in record time.
Strange thing; none of them shot back. Fact, no weapons
were found... just fifty-three men ranging from pre-
teen to seventy or eighty, wearing brown robes and
hoods, shaved heads, a couple carrying prayer sticks.
The boys wouldn't get off my back. Weems wouldn't
even walk around where I could see him, the murdering
bastard, while he formally charged me and I opted for a
formal court-martial instead of Captain's Mast.
Jesus and Mary, somebody should put a bullet in his
brain. I could taste the trigger. I didn't know how I was
ever going to be shriven if I couldn't feel remorse.
1




I didn't miss Earth, but I sure as hell hated
Mars. Sitting in a dingy mess hall on Phobos, one of the
two, tiny Martian moons, seemed like a nice compro-
mise.
Ordinarily, the C.O., Major Boyd, would have handed
me over to the jaggies for trial; but the day after Weems
gave the fateful order that bought him a mouthful of fist
from Yours Truly, the 15th received orders to answer a
distress call from Phobos. Fox Company was due to
rotate back to the world anyway; Boyd decided to mail us