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

Cowboy looks sick. "Don't try it, bro. That sniper does not miss..."
"I'm the corpsman," says Doc Jay." Not you." And before Cowboy can
react, Doc Jay is on his feet and running. He runs at a crouch, zigzagging.
Bang.
Doc Jay stumbles, falls.
The Doc's left thigh has been torn open. Jagged bone protrudes. The Doc
tries to push himself forward with his good leg.
Cowboy pops a smoke grenade, lobs it in.
"We've got to do something...."
The squad bunches up behind the boulder. "Spread out," I say,
halfheartedly. The New Guy is watching with wild eyes, his weapon at port
arms. Animal Mother's bloodshot eyes scan the canopy for muzzle flashes,
movement, any sign of life. Lance Corporal Stutten and the rest of the squad
watch silently-they are waiting for orders. Donlon is hugging his dead
radio.
Doc Jay stands up, balances himself on his good leg. He bends over and
hooks Alice under the armpit with his forearm, tries to lift him.
Bang.
Doc Jay collapses. Now his left foot is a bloody lump. He waits for the
last bullet. When the last bullet doesn't come he sits up, pulls Alice
across his lap. The Doc fumbles in his Unit One, takes out a Syrette, gives
Alice a hit of morphine.
Using his teeth, Doc Jay tears the waxy brown wrappers off three
compress bandages. The Doc ties the bandages around Alice's wound. Alice
groans, says something we can't hear. Doc Jay uses his shirttail to wipe the
sweat from Alice's forehead, then pulls out a piece of rubber tubing he uses
to tie tourniquets.
Bang.
Doc Jay's right hand is shattered. The Doc tries to move his fingers.
He can't.
Green smoke pours from Cowboy's smoke grenade, obscuring the clearing.
Cowboy starts to tell us what to do. But he can't make up his mind.
Then: "We're pulling out. That's a shitty thing to do, but we can't refuse
to accept the situation. We saw this in Hue. That sniper is just sucking us
in. Wants the whole squad, one at a time. You know that. Doc and Midnight
are wasted; we're not. Saddle up."
Nobody moves.
Cowboy stands up. "Do it."
We all know that Cowboy is right. He's hard, but he's right.


"GET SOME!"

Without warning, the New Guy charges for the clearing. He fires blind.
He lopes along with the fluid grace of a meat eater, a predator attacking.
His chin is dripping saliva. The New Guy wants warm blood to drink. The New
Guy wants human flesh to tear apart and devour. The New Guy's eyes are red:
the New Guy's eyes glow in the shadow world around us. He fires blind. The
New Guy doesn't know what the hell he's doing. He thinks he's John Wayne. He
hasn't been born yet.