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

Alice doesn't move and I curl up and try to make myself small and my
asshole feels like it has been turned inside out and I think how wonderful
it would be if Chaplain Charlie had taught me magic and then I could crawl
up into my own asshole and just disappear and I think: I'm glad it's him and
not me.


"ALICE!"


Alice, the point man, is down. His big black hands are locked around
his right thigh. On the deck all around him are a dozen decayed gook feet.
Blood.


"FACE OUTBOARD!"

Cowboy says, "Damn." He shoves his Stetson to the back of his head and
jabs at his glasses with his index finger. "CORPSMAN UP!"
Cowboy's command is echoed back down the trail.
Doc Jay comes scrambling up on all fours like a bear in a hurry.
Cowboy waves his hand, "Come on, Doc."
Donlon grabs Cowboy's ankle, tries to hand Cowboy the radio handset.
"Colonel Travis is on the horn."
"Fuck off, Tom. I'm busy."
Cowboy and Doc Jay start crawling.
Donlon says into the handset: "Uh, Sudden Death Six, Sudden Death Six,
this is Baby Bayonet. Do you copy? Over."
Cowboy stops crawling, calls back: "Gunships. And a med-evac."
Donlon talks into the handset, talks to the old man. Static. The
handset hangs on a wire hook attached to Donlon's helmet strap. Donlon's
singsong words are like a prayer he has known for a long time. Donlon stops
talking, listens to an insect inside the handset, then shouts: "The old man
says, 'Only you can prevent forest fires.'"
Cowboy looks back. "What? What the hell does that mean?"
The radio crackles. Static. "Uh...say again, say again. Over." Static.
Donlon listens, nodding. Then: "I roger that. Stand by, one." Donlon yells:
"The old man keeps saying, 'Only you can prevent forest fires.'..."
Cowboy crawls back to our position. "Donlon, boy, if you're fucking
with me..."
Donlon shrugs. "Scouts honor."
I say, "Cowboy, are you absolutely sure that the colonel is on our
side?"
Animal Mother spits. "There it is. He's a lifer, ain't he?"
Donlon shakes his head. "No slack. The old man is dinky-dow, crazy."
I grunt. "Sanity is overrated."
Cowboy says, "Just tell that lifer son-of-a-bitch that I need a dustoff
for-"
Bang.