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

He positions tiny green houses on the board. "Joker, you've scarfed up
beaucoup slack in Da Nang and I am sure that now you are squared away to get
back into the field. Hump up to Hue. The NVA have overrun the city. One-One
is in the shit."
I hesitate. "Sir, would the Captain happen to know who killed my story
on that howitzer crew who wasted a whole squad of NVA with one beehive
round? In Da Nang some poges told me that a colonel shit-canned my story.
Some colonel said that beehive rounds were a figment of my imagination
because the Geneva Convention classified them as 'inhumane' and American
fighting men are incapable of being inhumane."
Mr. Payback grunts. "Inhumane? That's a pretty word for it. Ten
thousand feathered stainless steel darts. Those flechette canisters do
convert gooks into lumps of shitty rags. There it is."
"Oh, damn," says Captain January. He slaps a card onto the field desk.
"Go to jail-go directly to jail-do not pass go-do not collect two hundred
dollars." The captain puts his little silver shoe into jail. "I know who
killed your beehive story, Joker. What I don't know is who has been tipping
off hostile reporters every time we get an adverse incident-like that white
Victor Charlies recon wasted last week, the one the snuffies call 'The
Phantom Blooper.' General Motors is ready to bust me down to a grunt because
of that leak in our security. You talk; I'll talk. Do we have a deal?"
"No. No, Captain. It's not important."
"Number one! Snake eyes! No sweat, Joker. I've got a big piece of slack
for you." Captain January picks up a manila guard mail envelope and pulls
out a piece of paper with fancy writing on it. "Congratulations, Sergeant
Joker." He hands me the paper.


TO ALL WHO SHALL SEE THESE PRESENTS, GREETING: KNOW YE THAT REPOSING


SPECIAL TRUST AND CONFIDENCE IN THE FIDELITY OF JAMES T. DAVIS,
2306777/4312, I DO
APPOINT HIM A SERGEANT IN THE UNITED STATES MARINE CORPS...

I stare at the piece of paper. Then I put the order on Captain
January's field desk. "Number ten. I mean, no way, sir."
Captain January stops his little silver shoe in mid-stride. "What did
you say, Sergeant?"
"Sir, I rose by sheer military genius to the rank of corporal, as they
say, like Hitler and Napoleon. But I'm not a sergeant. I guess I'm just a
snuffy at heart."
"Sergeant Joker, you will belay the Mickey Mouse shit. You won a
meritorious promotion on Parris Island. You've got an excellent record in
country. You've got high enough time-in-grade. You rate this promotion. This
is the only war we've got, Sergeant. Your career as a Marine-"
"No, sir. We bomb these people, then we photograph them. My stories are
paper bullets fired into the fat black heart of Communism. I've fought to
make the world safe for hypocrisy. We have met the enemy and he is us. War
is good business-invest your son. Viet Nam means never having to say you're