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

sorry. Arbeit Macht Frei-"
"Sergeant Joker!"
"Negative, Captain. Number ten. I'm a corporal. You can send me to the
brig, sir-I know that. Lock me up in Portsmouth Naval Prison until I rot,
but let me rot as a corporal, sir. You know I do my job. I write that the
Nam is an Asian Eldorado populated by a cute, primitive but determined
people. War is a noisy breakfast food. War is fun to eat. War can give you
better checkups. War cures cancer-permanently. I don't kill. I write. Grunts
kill; I only watch. I'm only young Dr. Goebbels. I'm not a sergeant." I add:
"Sir."
Captain January's silver shoe lands on Oriental Avenue. There is a tiny
red plastic hotel on Oriental Avenue. Captain January grimaces and then
counts out thirty-five dollars in MPC. He hands Mr. Payback the small
colorful bills and then hands him the dice. "Sergeant, you will be wearing
chevrons indicating your proper rank the next time I see your or I will
definitely jump on your program. Do you want to be a grunt? If not, you will
remove that unauthorized peace button from your duty uniform."
I don't say anything.
Captain January looks at Rafter Man. "Who's this? Sound off, Marine."
Rafter Man stutters.
I say, "This is Lance Corporal Compton, sir. The New Guy in Photo."
"Outstanding. Welcome aboard, Marine. Joker, make sleeping sounds here
tonight and head up to the Hue in the morning. Walter Cronkite is due here
tomorrow so we'll be busy. I'll need Chili Vendor and Daytona here. But your
job is important, too. General Motors called me about this personally. We
need some good, clear photographs. And some hard-hitting captions. Get me
photographs of indigenous civilian personnel who have been executed with
their hands tied behind their backs, people buried alive, priests with their
throats cut, dead babies-you know what I want. Get me some good body counts.
And don't forget to calculate your kill ratios. And Joker..."
"Yes, sir?"
"Don't even photograph any naked bodies unless they're mutilated."
"Aye-aye, sir."
"And Joker..."
"Yes, sir?"
"Get a haircut."
"Aye-aye, sir."
As Mr. Payback release his little silver car Captain January says,
"Three houses! Three houses! Park fucking Place! That's...eighty dollars!"
Mr. Payback counts out all of his money. "That breaks me, Captain. I
owe you seven bucks."
Captain January rakes up the pile of MPC, a shit-eating grin on his
face. "You do not understand a business, Mr. Payback. If we had Marine
generals who understood business this war would be over. The secret to
winning this war is in public relations. Harry S. Truman once said that the
Marine Corps has a propaganda machine almost equal to Stalin's. He was
right. In war, truth is the first casualty. Correspondents are more
effective than grunts. Grunts merely kill the enemy. All that matters is
what we write, what we photograph. History may be written with blood and
iron but it's printed with ink. Grunts are good show business but we make