"Arcady And Boris Strugatsky. Prisoners of Power" - читать интересную книгу автора

7.
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
repair. Scarcely had the brigade adjutant returned the orders to his leather
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