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

shrines and temples and the gooks got lots of shit to hide under and we have
to dig them out."
Everybody gets a little high. Crazy Earl goes into a long, detailed sea
story about how the Montagnard Tribesmen are in fact Viet Cong cavemen. "We
said we were going to bomb them back to the Stone Age and we do not lie."
Cowboy suggests that Montagnards are actually Viet Cong Indians and
that the secret to winning the war is to issue each grunt a horse. Then
Victor Charlie would have to hump while Marines could ride.
Crazy Earl puts his arm across the shoulders of the man next to him.
The man has a bush cover pulled down over his face, a beer in his hand, a
pile of money in his lap. "This is my bro," says Crazy Earl, removing the
bush cover from the man's face. "This is his party. He is the guest of
honor. You see, today is his birthday."
Rafter Man looks at me, his mouth open. "Sarge..."
I say, "Don't call me Sarge."
The man next to Crazy Earl is a dead man, a North Vietnamese corporal,
a clean-cut Asian kid about seventeen years old with ink-black hair, cropped
short.
Crazy Earl hugs the North Vietnamese corporal. He grins. "I made him
sleep." Crazy Earl puts his forefinger to his lips and whispers, "Shhh. He's
resting now."
Before Rafter Man can start asking questions Animal Mother and another
Marine double-time up the road, carrying a large cardboard box between them.
They drop the box and reach inside. They throw plastic bags to each of us.
"Resupply! Resupply! Get your red-hot bennies. Scarf it up!"
Cowboy snatches up his bag and rips it open. "Long-rats. Outstanding!"
I pick up my bag and I show it to Rafter Man. "This is number one chow,
Rafter. The Army eats this shit on humps. Add water and you got real food."
Lieutenant Shortround says, "Okay, Mother, where'd you souvenir the
chow?"
Animal Mother spits. He grins, baring rotten teeth. "I stole it."
"You stole it, sir."
"Yeah, I stole it...sir."
"That's looting. They shoot people for that."
"I stole it from the Army...sir."
"Outstanding. It is part of your duty as a Marine to harass our sister
services. Carry on."
Cowboy punches the Marine who helped Animal Mother carry the cardboard
box. "This is T.H.E. Rock. Make him famous. He wears that rock around his
neck so that when the dinks zap him they'll know who he is."
T.H.E. Rock grins. "You fucking alcoholic. I wish you'd stop telling
people about my rock." He pulls out a rawhide cord and shows us his rock, a
quartz crystal mounted in brass.
Animal Mother props his M-60 machine gun against a wall and sits down,
cross-legged. "Man, I almost got me some eatin' pussy."
T.H.E. Rock says, "That's affirmative. Mother was chasing a little gook
girl with his dick hanging out...."
Lieutenant Shortround pulls his K-bar from its sheath and cuts a chunk
from a block of C-4 plastic explosive he has extracted from a Claymore mine.
He puts the piece of C-4 into a little stove he has made by punching air