"Gustav Hasvord. The Short-Timers " - читать интересную книгу автора

for the M.P.'s.
General Motors raised his hand and there was silence. Unlike many
Marine Corps generals, General Motors looked exactly like a Marine Corps
general, eyes as gray as gun metal, a face that was tough but sensitive-a
Cro-Magnon holy man's face. His jungle utilities were starched,
razor-creased, with shirt-sleeves rolled up neatly.
Rafter Man stood there, staring at the general, grinning like a goddamn
fool. He wobbled. He tried to walk but he couldn't. He was having enough
trouble just standing in one place.
General Motors ordered the broken table cleared away. Then he offered
Rafter Man his chair.
Rafter Man hesitated, looked at the general, then at the staff
officers, who were still pissed off, then at me, then he looked at the
general again. He grinned and sat down on the metal folding chair.
The general nodded, then sat down on the floor next to Rafter Man. With
a wave of his hand he ordered the staff officers to sit on the floor behind
him, which they did, still pissed off.
With another wave of his hand the general ordered the performers to go
on with the show.
The Australian comedian and the sweating belly dancers hesitated.
Rafter Man stood up.
He wobbled, then sank down to the deck beside the general. He put his
arm around the general's shoulders. General Motors looked at him without
expression. Rafter Man said, "Hey, bro, I can fly. Did you see me fly?" He
paused. "You think...am I drunk? I mean, am I hammered or am I hammered?" He
looked around. "Joker? Where's Joker?" But I was still stumbling over angry
poges. "Joker's my bro, sir. We enlisted personnel are tight, you know?
Indubitably. I am in love with those sexy women. I roger that..." His face
got serious. "Who'll take me through the wire? Sir? Where's Joker?" He
looked around, but didn't see me. "I'll fall in the wire. Or blow myself up.
Sir? SIR? I'll step on a mine. I got to find my bro, sir. I don't want to
fall into the wire, not again. JOKER!"
General Motors looked at Rafter Man and smiled. "Don't worry, son.
Marines never abandon their wounded."
Rafter Man looked at the general the way drunks look at people who say
things they don't understand. Then he smiled. He nodded. "Aye-aye, sir."
The Australian comedian and the meaty belly dancers resumed their act,
which consisted primarily of double-takes from the comedian every time one
of the belly dancers slung a big tender breast out of her tiny golden
costume. The act was a smashing success.
By the time the show was over, Rafter Man could stand only if he had a
wall to hold onto. General Motors took Rafter Man's arm and put it over his
shoulders and helped Rafter Man out of the E.M. club and, leaving the staff
officer's behind, helped Rafter Man to stagger down the hill, along the
narrow path through the tangle-foot and the concertina wire.
As the enlisted men left the Thunderbird Club, they watched this small
event and they smiled and nodded and said, "Decent. Number one."
And: "There it is."