"Arcady And Boris Strugatsky. Prisoners of Power" - читать интересную книгу автора7.
Every morning after breakfast the brigade assembled on the drill field to hear the orders of the day before dispersing to their assignments. For Maxim this was the most disturbing part of the day, with the exception of evening roll call. The reading of orders always ended in a frenzied display of loyalty and zeal. Maxim forced himself to suppress his revulsion at this paroxysm of insanity that seized the entire brigade from the commander to the lowliest candidate. He reproached himself for harboring the skepticism of an outsider, an alien; he tried to inspire himself, to convince himself that he must understand their enthusiasm and steep himself in it. But he could not. Schooled since childhood to show self-restraint, to question, and to dislike high-sounding phrases, he had to control his irritation with his comrades during formation. Following the reading of an order sentencing some candidate to three days in the stockade for arguing with a private, the men would suddenly lose their good nature and sense of humor. Their mouths would fly open and they would begin to roar "Hoorah" with wild enthusiasm. Then, with tears in their eyes, they would sing "The Fighting Legion March," repeating it as many as four times. Even the cooks ran out and joined in, waving pots and knives frenziedly. Reminding himself that in this world he must conform, he forced himself to join in the singing and to suppress his sense of the ridiculous. But the contrived enthusiasm disgusted him. Today a burst of enthusiasm followed Order 127, promoting Private Dimbas to corporal; Order 128, citing Candidate Sim for his courageous act during an operation; and Order 129, placing Fourth Company's barracks under map case than the brigadier tore off his cap, took a deep breath, and shouted in a rasping falsetto: "Forward, Legionnaires! Men of Iron!" And on and on. Maxim felt especially uncomfortable today when he saw tears rolling down Captain Chachu's dark cheeks. The legionnaires bellowed like bulls, beating time with their gun butts on their massive belt buckles. To avoid the sight and sound of this spectacle, Maxim squinted and roared like an enraged takhorg, and his voice drowned out all the others - at least it seemed that way to him. "Forward, fearless men!" he roared, now hearing only his own voice. My God, what idiotic words. Probably composed by some corporal. To go into combat with such words you'd have to be awfully in love with your work. He opened his eyes and saw a flock of black birds, startled, fly silently over the drill field. "A diamond coat of mail will not save you, oh, foe." Everything ended as abruptly as it had begun. The brigadier's glassy eyes scanned the formation. Suddenly he remembered where he was and ordered: "Officers, take your companies to their assignments!" The men, still dazed, looked at each other dumbfounded. Captain Chachu had to shout "Right dress" twice before the ranks came to order. The company was marched off to the barracks, and the captain ordered: "First Platoon is assigned to escort duty. The other platoons will go to their regular duties, Fall out!" They dispersed. Guy drew up his platoon and distributed assignments. Maxim and Private Pandi were assigned the interrogation room, and Guy hurriedly explained to Maxim his duties: stand to the prisoner's right; if he makes the slightest attempt to rise from his seat, use force; obey your |
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