The Short-Timers by Gustav Hasford

Author:Gustav Hasford [Hasford, Gustav]
Language: deu
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-10-11T08:30:59+00:00

T.H.E. Rocks says, "You know, my mom writes me a lot of letters about what a brave boy T.

H.E. Rock is. T.H.E. Rock is not a boy; he's a person." He drinks beer. "I know I'm a person because I know there ain't no Santa Claus. There ain't no fucking Easter bunny. You know?

Back in the World we thought that the future is always safe in a little gold box somewhere.

Well, I'll live forever. I'm T.H.E. Rock."

Crazy Earl grunts. "Hey Skipper, what say we stuff some dope into your shotgun and toke it through the barrel?"

Mr. Shortround shakes his head. "No can do, Craze. We're moving most skosh."

Donlon is talking into his handset. "Sir, the C.O. wants the Actual."

Donlon gives the handset to Mr. Shortround. The Lieutenant talks to Delta Six, the commanding officer of Delta One-Five.

"Number ten. Just when we were scarfing up some of the bennies," says Crazy Earl. "Just when we were getting a little piece of slack..."

Lieutenant Shortround stands up and starts putting on his gear. "Moving, rich kids. Saddle up. Craze, get your people on their feet."

"Moving. Moving."

We all stand up, except for the NVA corporal who remains seated, a beer in his hand, a pile of money in his lap, his split lips curled back in a death grin.

Alice steps up with a machete in one hand and a blue canvas shopping bag in the other. He kneels. With two blows of the machete Alice chops off the NVA corporal's feet. He picks up each foot by the big toe and drops it into the blue shopping bag. "This gook was a very hard dude. Number one! Big Magic!"

The grunts stuff beer bottles, piasters, long-rats, and looted souvenirs into their baggy pockets, into Marine-issue field packs, and into NVA haversacks souvenired from enemy grunts they have wasted. The grunts pick up their weapons.

Moving. Moving. I walk behind Cowboy. Rafter Man walks behind me.

I say, "Well, I guess this Citadel shit is going to be oh so bad. But it could be worse. I mean, at least it's not Parris Island."

Cowboy grins. He says, "There it is."

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