"Дон Пендлтон. Chicago Wipe-Out ("Палач" #8) " - читать интересную книгу автора

It should not be concluded that Bolan was a "wild ass warrior" who
recklessly stormed a superior enemy in suicidal attacks. He had a contempt
for death , not for life . He did not fling his life into the hands of the
gods and demand a safe passage; Bolan possessed a genius for warfare and had
the combat instincts of a battle-hardened soldier. He also had a knack for
equalizing the balance of power between himself and his enemies. This
professional soldier was entirely human, and subject to all the dreams,
desires and anxieties of any normal human being.
Perhaps the most revealing insight into the character of this warrior
was provided by an ex-army buddy with whom he became re-involved during his
French adventure. Wilson Brown told Bolan, at the height of the Riviera
rampage, "You know, I guess what I dig about you, man, is your guts ...
you've got a weird combination there, Sarge - tough guts and warm heart.
Most cats don't know how to carry both."
Tough guts and warm heart, and indeed Bolan knew how to carry both at
the same time. On many occasions in Vietnam he had jeopardized his own life
and mission to provide emergency assistance to stricken villagers. Though he
had earned his tag, The Executioner , through his proficiency as a military
sniper, he had also been quietly recognized among local medics as Sergeant
Mercy , the guy who seldom returned from a penetration strike without one or
several wounded or sick Vietnamese civilians in his care, usually children.
This facet of Mack Bolan had carried over to his war on the Mafia.
Though he was one of the most wanted "criminals" in America, he had never
engaged police authority in a Shootout, and there is no record of harm
befalling innocent bystanders as a result of an Executioner "hit." He
planned his operations with great care to insure that only the deserving
tasted his war. On various occasions, he broke off and retreated when it
became obvious that such conditions could not be met; often these retreats
were undertaken at great personal hazard.
In any composite picture of Bolan the man, a central and unshakeable
fact emerges: this is a man responding to a high call to duty - and with
this response costing him everything that had ever held meaning for his
life. No kill-crazy goon, no mentally-disturbed victim of combat-fatigue, no
arrogant superman glorying in his power over life and death - but an often
wearied and frightened and lonely and continually harassed human being who
was simply doing a job that needed doing. No zealot was Bolan - his greatest
enemies were his own self-doubts, which were often immense, and a frequently
overpowering revulsion for this life of gore and terror.
His war had not begun on such a high plane, of course. It started as an
act of simple vengeance. Bolan had been fighting the war in Vietnam when his
mother, his father, and his younger sister suffered violent deaths at home,
indirect victims of a Mafia loansharking operation. The grieving soldier
returned home to bury his beloved dead and to learn that "the omnipotent
outfit" was beyond the reach of the law. They were not, however, beyond the
reach of this combat-tested "executioner." He remained in Pittsfield to take
justice into his own hands in a cooly calculated campaign against the
Frenchi Family, declaring, "I am not their judge. I am their judgement. I am
their executioner ."
The battle of Pittsfield (The Executioner: War Against the Mafia) left
that Mafia arm a shambles and provided Bolan with deeper insights into the