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

I say, "Lose a few, lose a few-right, Mother?"
Mother tries to be cool about it. "I couldn't fold, could I? Had over
four bucks in the pot. I thought the New Guy would fold. Most people are
afraid of me..."
Donlon laughs again. "Your program is squared away, New Guy. What's
your name?"
"Parker," says the New Guy, smiling. "Name's Parker. Henry. People call
me Hank."
The New Guy counts his chips. "Animal Mother, you owe me nine and a
half bucks."
Animal Mother grunts.
I say, still standing, "Lose a few, lose a few-right, Mother?"
"Who fucking asked you, Joker? You're funny enough to be a lifer."
"Yeah? Well, when I'm a civilian first class and you're a bonehead
funny gunny I'll buy you a beer and then I'll kick your ass." I sit down.

Cowboy grins. "You can buy me a beer, too, Joker. But you'll have to
wait until I'm twenty-one."
Down the trail, someone laughs very loud. I say, "Hey, belay that
noise. I'm making all the noise for this squad."
Lance Corporal Stutten, honcho of the first fire team, gives me the
finger. Then he turns to the guy who laughed-a skinny redneck named
Harris-and says, "Shut the fuck up, Harris."
Animal Mother says, "Yeah, Harris, obey General Joker."
I say, "I'm ready to jump on your program, you fucking ape..."
"So eat this monkey turd and choke on it, poge." Animal Mother spits.
"You just can't hack-"
And then I'm on my feet, my K-bar in my hand. There's hot saliva on my
lips and as I hold the big jungle knife inches from Animal Mother's face I'm
snarling like an animal. "Okay, you son-of-a-bitch, I'm gonna cut your
fucking eyes out..."
Animal Mother looks at me, then at the blade of my K-bar, then at
Cowboy. His hand moves to his M-60.
Cowboy continues to eat. "Stow that pig-sticker, Joker. You know how I
feel about that Mickey Mouse shit. Now get your head and your ass wired
together or-"
"No way, Cowboy. Never happen. He's been on my-"
Cowboy jabs at his glasses. "Didn't ask to run a rifle squad in this
piss tube war...but I will break your back, if that's the way you play..."
Donlon whistles. "Cowboy's-"
Cowboy says, "Shut up, Donlon."
I relax a little bit and then I slip my K-bar back into its leather
sheath. "Yeah, yeah, I guess all this humping has given me diarrhea of the
mouth."
Cowboy shurgs. "No sweat, Joker." Cowboy stands up. "Okay, ladies, stow
the pogey bait. Let's saddle up. Moving."
"Moving" is repeated down the trail.
I struggle into my gear. "Hey, Animal Mother, I wasn't really going to
waste you. It's just that I'm well, you know, a trained killer. Cut me a
huss with my pack..."