bill_the_galactic_hero_v1.1-第3部分

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heoretically　nourishing　but　incredibly　vile　and　when；　by　mistake；　one　batch　of　meat　was　served　in　an　edible　state　it　was　caught　at　the　last　moment　and　thrown　out　and　the　cook　reduced　two　grades。　Their　sleep　was　broken　by　mock　gas　attacks　and　their　free　time　filled　with　caring　for　their　equipment。　The　seventh　day　was　designated　as　a　day　of　rest；　but　they　all　had　received　punishments；　like　Bill's　KP；　and　it　was　as　any　other　day。　On　this；　the　third　Sunday　of　their　imprisonment；　they　were　stumbling　through　the　last　hour　of　the　day　before　the　lights　were　extinguished　and　they　were　finally　permitted　to　crawl　into　their　casehardened　bunks。　Bill　pushed　against　the　weak　force　field　that　blocked　the　door；　cunningly　designed　to　allow　the　desert　flies　to　enter　but　not　leave　the　barracks；　and　dragged　himself　in。　After　fourteen　hours　of　KP　his　legs　vibrated　with　exhaustion；　and　his　arms　were　wrinkled　and　pallid　as　a　corpse's　from　the　soapy　water。　He　dropped　his　jacket　to　the　floor；　where　it　stood　stiffly　supported　by　its　burden　of　sweat；　grease；　and　dust；　and　dragged　his　shaver　from　his　footlocker。　In　the　latrine　he　bobbed　his　head　around　trying　to　find　a　clear　space　on　one　of　the　mirrors。　All　of　them　had　been　heavily　stenciled　in　large　letters　with　such　inspiring　messages　as　KEEP　YOUR　WUG　SHUT…THE　CHINGERS　ARE　LISTENING　and　IF　YOU　TALK　THIS　MAN　MAY　DIE。　He　finally　plugged　the　shaver　in　next　to　WOULD　YOU　WANT　YOUR　SISTER　TO　MARRY　ONE？　and　centered　his　face　in　the　o　in　ONE。　Black…rimmed　and　bloodshot　eyes　stared　back　at　him　as　he　ran　the　buzzing　machine　over　the　underweight　planes　of　his　jaw。　It　took　more　than　a　minute　for　the　meaning　of　the　question　to　penetrate　his　fatigue…drugged　brain。　　　〃I　haven't　got　a　sister；〃　he　grumbled　peevishly；　〃and　if　I　did；　why　should　she　want　to　marry　a　lizard　anyway？〃　It　was　a　rhetorical　question；　but　it
brought　an　answer　from　the　far　end　of　the　room；　from　the　last　shot　tower　in　the　second　row。
　　〃It　doesn't　mean　exactly　what　it　says…it's　just　there　to　make　us　hate　the　dirty　enemy　more。〃　。
　　Bill　jumped；　he　had　thought　he　was　alone　in　the　latrine；　and　the　razor　buzzed　spitefully　and　gouged　a　bit　of　flesh　from　his　lip。
　　〃Who's　there？　Why　are　you　hiding？〃　he　snarled；　then　recognized　the　huddled　dark　figure　and　the　many　pairs　of　boots。　〃Oh；　it's　only　you；　Eager。〃
His　anger　drained　away；　and　he　turned　back　to　the　mirror。
　　Eager　Beager　was　so　much　a　part　of　the　latrine　that　you　forgot　he　was　there。　A　moon…faced；　eternally　smiling　youth；　whose　apple…red　cheeks　never　lost　their　glow　and　whose　smile　looked　so　much　out　of　place　here　in　Camp　Leon　Trotsky　that　everyone　wanted　to　kill　him　until　they　remembered　that　he　was　mad。　He　had　to　be　mad　because　he　was　always　eager　to　help　his　buddies　and　had　volunteered　as　permanent　latrine　orderly。　Not　only　that；　but　he　liked　to　polish　boots　and　had　offered　to　do　those　of　one　after　another　of　his　buddies　until　now　he　did　the　boots　for　every　man　in　the　squad　every　night。　Whenever　they　were　in　the　barracks　Eager　Beager　could　be　found　crouched　at　the　end　of　the　thrones　that
were　his　personal　domain；　surrounded　by　the　heaps　of　shoes　and　polishing　industriously；　his　face　wreathed　in　smiles。　He　would　still　be　there　after　lights…out；　working　by　the　light　of　a　burning　wick　stuck　in　a　can　of　polish；　and　was　usually　up　before　the　others　in　the　morning；　finishing　his　voluntary　job　and　still　smiling。　Sometimes；　when　the　boots　were　very　dirty；　he　worked　right　through　the　night。　The　kid　was　obviously　insane；　but　no…　one　turned　him　in　because　he　did　such　a　good　job　on　the　boots；　and　they　all　prayed　that　he　wouldn't　die　of　exhaustion　until　recruit　training　was　finished。
　　〃Well　if　that's　what　they　want　to　say；　why　don't　they　just　say；　‘Hate　the　dirty　enemy　more；〃'　Bill　plained。　He　jerked　his　thumb　at　the　far　wall；　where　there　was　a　poster　labeled　KNOW　THE　ENEMY。　It　featured　a　life…sized　illustration　of　a　Chinger；　a　seven…foot…high　saurian　that　looked　very　much　like　a　scale…covered；　four…armed；　green　kangaroo　with　an　alligator's　head。　〃Whose　sister　would　want　to　marry　a　thing　like　that　anyway？　And　what　would　a　thing　like　that　want　to　do　with　a　sister；　except　maybe　eat　her？〃
　　　Eager　put　a　last　buff　on　a　purple　toe　and　picked　up　another　boot。　He　frowned　for　a　brief　instant　to　show　what　a　serious　thought　this　was。　〃Well　you　see；　gee…it　doesn't　mean　a　real　sister。　It's　just　part　of　psychological　warfare。　We　have　to　win　the　war。　To　win　the　war　we　have　to　fight　hard。　In　order　to　fight　hard　we　have　to　have　good　soldiers。　Good　soldiers　have　to　hate　the　enemy。　That's　the　way　it　goes。　The　Chingers　are　the　only　non…human　race　that　has　been　discovered　in　the　galaxy　that　has　gone　beyond　the　aboriginal　level；　so　naturally　we　have　to　wipe　them　out。〃
　　〃What　the　hell　do　you　mean；　naturally？　I　don't　want　to　wipe　anyone　out。　I　just　want　to　go　home　and　be　a　Technical　Fertilizer　Operator。〃
　　〃Well；　I　don't　mean　you　personally；　of　course…gee！〃　Eager　opened　a　fresh　can　of　polish　with　purple…stained　hands　and　dug　his　fingers　into　it。　〃I　mean　the　human　race；　that's　just　the　way　we　do　things。　If　we　don't　wipe　them　out　they'll　wipe　us　out。　Of　course　they　say　that　war　is　against　their　religion　and　they　will　only　fight　in　defense；　and　they　have　never　made　any　attacks　yet。　But　we　can't　believe　them；　even　though　it　is　true。　They　might　change　their　religion　or　their　minds　some　day；　and　then　where　would　we　be？　The　best　answer　is　to　wipe　them　out　now。〃
　　Bill　unplugged　his　razor　and　washed　his　face　in　the　tepid；　rusty　water。　
〃It　still　doesn't　seem　to　make　sense。　All　right；　so　the　sister　I　don't　have　doesn't　marry　one　of　them。　But　how　about　that　〃　he　pointed　to　the　stenciling　on　the　duck　boards；　KEEP　THIS　SHOWER　CLEAR…THE　ENEMY　CAN　HEAR。　〃Or　that…〃　The　sign　above　the　urinal　that　read　BUTTON　FLIES…BEWARE　SPIES。　〃Forgetting　for　the　moment　that　we　don't　have　any　secrets　here　worth　traveling　a　mile　to　hear；　much　less　twenty…five　light　years…how　could　a　Chinger　possibly　be　a　spy？　What　kind　of　make…up　would　disguise　a　seven…foot　lizard　as　a　recruit？　You　couldn't　even　disguise　one　to　look　like　Deathwish　Drang；　though　you　could　get　pretty　close…〃
　　The　lights　went　out；　and；　as　though　using　his　name　had　summoned　him　like　a　devil　from　the　pit；　the　voice　of　Deathwish　blasted　through　the　barracks。　
　　〃Into　your　sacks！　Into　your　sacks！　Don't　you　lousy　bowbs　know　there's　a　war　on！〃
　　Bill　stumbled　away　through　the　darkness　of　the　barracks　where　the　only　illumination　was　the　red　glow　from　Deathwish's　eyes。　He　fell　asleep　the　instant　his　head　touched　his　carborundum　pillow；　and　it　seemed　that　only　a　moment　had　elapsed　before　reveille　sent　him　hurtling　from　his　bunk。　At　breakfast；　while　he　was　painfully　cutting　his　coffee…substitute　into　chunks　small　enough　to　swallow；　the　telenews　reported　heavy　fighting　in　the　Beta　Lyra　sector　with　mounting　losses。　A　groan　rippled　through　the　mess　hall　when　this　was　announced；　not　because　of　any　excess　of　patriotism　but　because　any　bad　news　would　only　make　things　worse　for　them。　They　did　not　know　how　this　would　be　arranged；　but　they　were　positive　it　would　be。　They　were　right。　Since　the　morning　was　a　bit　cooler　than　usual　the　Monday　parade　was　postponed　until　upon　when　the　ferro…concrete　drill　ground　would　have　warmed　up　nicely　and　there　would　be　the　maximum　number　of　heat…prostration　cases。　But　this　was　just　the　beginning。　From　where　Bill　stood　at　attention　near　the　rear　he　could　see　that　the　air…conditioned　canopy　was　up　on　the　reviewing　stand。　That　meant　brass。　The　trigger　guard　of　his　atomic　rifle　dug　a　hole　into　his　shoulder；　and　a　drop　of　sweat　collected；　then　dripped　from　the　tip　of　his　nose。　Out　of　the　ers　of　his　eyes　he　could　see　the　steady　ripple　of　motion　as　men　collapsed　here　and　there　among　the　massed　ranks　of　thousands　and　were　dragged　to　the　waiting　ambulances　by　alert　corpsmen。　Here　they　were　laid　in　the　shade　of　the　vehicles　until　they　revived　and　could　be　urged　back　to　their　positions　in　the　formation。　
　　Then　the　band；　burst　into　〃Spacemen　Ho　and　Chingers　Vanquished！〃　and　the　broadcast　signal　to　each　boot　heel　snapped　the　ranks　to　attention　at　the　same　instant；　and　the　thousands　of　rifles　flashed　in　the　sun。　The　manding　general's　staff　car…this　was　obvious　from　the　two　stars　paint