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

machine gun, locked there forever by rigor mortis. His finger in on the
trigger. His canvas jungle boots are muddy.
You look at the dried mud on the jungle boots of the Marine without a
head and you are stunned that his feet look so much like your own.
You reach out. You touch his hand.
Something stings your arm.
Suddenly, you are very tired. You are breathing hard from the running.
Your heart is beating so hard that it seems to want to tear its way out of
your body. Through the center of your heart there is a star-shaped bullet
hole.
Hands touch you. Gentle hands. "You're okay, jarhead. No sweat. I'm Doc
Jay. Can you hear me? You can trust me, Marine. I got magic hands."
"No," you say. "NO!" You try to explain to the hands that part of you
is missing in action. You want the hands to find the missing part; you don't
want your missing part to be left behind. But you cannot speak. Your mouth
won't work.
You sleep. You trust the hands that are holding you, the hands that are
lifting you up.


In your dope dream of death you are an enlistment poster nailed to a
black wall: THE MARINE CORPS BUILDS MEN-BODY-MIND-SPIRIT.
You feel yourself breaking up into three pieces...you hear strange
voices...
"What's wrong?" one voice says, confused and frightened. "What's
wrong?"
"Who's there?"
"What?"
"Who's there?"
"I'm Mind. Are you-"
"Affirmative. I'm his Body. I'm not feeling well..."
"This is utterly ridiculous," interjects a third voice. "This can't be
happening."
"Who said that?" Mind demands. "Body? That you?"
"I said it, fool. You may call me Spirit."
Body sneers. "I don't believe either of you."
Mind speaks slowly: "Now, we've got to be logical about this. Our man
is down. We've got to get organized."
Body whimpers. "Listen, you guys, that's me lying there-not you. You
don't know what it's like."
Mind says, "Look, you moron, we're all in this together. If he goes, we
all go."
"Is he..." Body can't say the word. "I've got to survive."
"No," Mind observes. "Not necessarily. They play this game. I'm not
sure we are allowed to interfere."
Body is horrified. "What kind of 'game'?"
"I'm not sure. Something about rules. They have a lot of rules."
Spirit says, "This guy pisses me off. I'm not going back."
Mind says, "You have to go back."
"On the contrary," says Spirit. "I do as I please. You two have no