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

control over me."
"Forget him," says Body.
Mind insists, "But Spirit must return with us."
"No. We don't need him."
Mind considers the situation. "Perhaps Spirit has a valid argument.
Perhaps I shouldn't go back either..."
Body is frantic. "NO! PLEASE...."
"Yet, actually, nothing would be achieved by not going back. Our
actions will not affect their game in any event. Losing one man won't change
the game one way or the other. In fact, losing men seems to be the whole
point of the game. We must be practical. Come along, Body, we're going
back."
Spirit says, "Tell the man I'm missing in action."


In your dream you call for Chaplain Charlie. You met the Navy chaplain
when you interviewed him for a feature article you were writing. Chaplain
Charlie was an amateur magician. With his magic, Chaplain Charlie
entertained Marines in sick bays and distributed spiritual tourniquets to
men who were still alive, but weaponless. To brutal, godless children
Chaplain Charlie spoke about how God is merciful, despite appearances, about
how the Ten Commandments lack detail because when you're writing on stone
tablets with lightning bolts you're got to be brief, about how the Free
World will conquer Communism with aid of God and a few Marines, and about
free fish. One day a Vietnamese child booby-trapped Chaplain Charlie's black
bag of tricks. Chaplain Charlie reached in and pulled out a bright ball of
death...

"Hey, hit the deck, leatherneck, we're moving."
"What-?" I recognize the rooms I'm in. I remember the room from an
earlier visit to Hue. I'm in the Palace of Perfect Peace in the Forbidden
City.
Cowboy punches my arm. "Okay, Joker, stop acting. We know you're not
dead."
I sit up. I'm on a canvas med-evac stretcher. "There it is. I did it!
Number one! I got my first heart."
Rafter Man says, "A Purple Heart?"
Cowboy laughs. "Tough titty, you poge. No heart."
I pat myself with my hands. "The hell you say. Where am I hit?"
Rafter Man says, "You been out for hours. Doc Jay said you got blown up
by a B-40. A rocket-propelled grenade. But you only got the concussion. Some
other guy got the shrapnel."
"Well," I say, "that sounds like a lifer-type thing to do."
Animal Mother grunts and spits. Animal Mother spits a lot because he
thinks it makes him look tough. "Lifers never get wasted. Just the ones I
frag, that's all."
Donlon takes a step toward Animal Mother. Donlon is glaring at Animal
Mother. Donlon starts to say something, then decides against it.

Rafter Man says, "Doc Jay gave you some morphine. You were trying to