"S. A. Gorden - Eyes of an Eagle a Novel of Gravity Controlled" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gorden S A)

“Ben! I wish you wouldn't sneak up on me.” I nosed the canoe into the bank. My uncle pulled his old
scarred canoe out from behind some brush and we paddled off in silence. He led me off the river up a
small stream. The stream cut its way through a floating bog. Every year the channel through the bog
would change, as the floating vegetation would drift to new locations. Finally we came to a section of
land that looked like all the rest of the bog, but instead of being just a few inches of dirt and roots floating
on water it was a bar of sand and rock. Ben's shack lay just behind a screen of brush a couple of dozen
feet from the stream.

My uncle never talked till after the supplies were unloaded and stored away. One of the first things he did
was open a can of coffee. He set it brewing in a pot on the old rusty barrel stove he had in the shack.
When we finished, he poured me a cup of the scalding hot brew. I had the only cup in the place. Ben
poured his own coffee in an old Campbell's soup can. I couldn't help but notice he had a whole rabbit,
fur and all, simmering in a pot next to the coffee. I knew I wouldn't be staying for supper.

As we drank, I felt eyes upon me. I started to search the shack. I found the watching eyes. In the corner
under an old wood crate, a mouse sat watching me. His little paws groomed his whiskers. His eyes never
left my face.

A whisper came from my uncle. “You know, Dan. It was my third time as point man before they started
watching me."

“Point Man?"

“When our squad went on patrol, there had to be a man out front. He was the eyes of the squad. If the
point man wasn't good, he would get either himself or the squad killed. He had to see the enemy before
they saw him. He had to evade the booby traps and mark them for the rest of the squad to avoid.

“The first time I worked the point I nearly got everyone killed in an ambush, but I learned. I liked the
point. It was just me and the jungle. It was my third time at point. I was maybe a hundred meters ahead
of the rest of the squad. I noticed that the birds had stopped making a ruckus when I walked past. They
would watch me pass. Later when the squad followed, they complained but with me they just watched.

“It happened during my second tour ... During that patrol, I walked out of the jungle and started across a
rice paddy. I felt eyes. The eyes came from my left. I turned and looked back at the edge of the jungle.
Finally, I saw the eyes. A VC sniper was watching the paddy. I locked onto his eyes. We must have
stared at each other for ten minutes. I could hear the squad coming out of the jungle behind me. The
sniper just backed away into the trees.

“The only one of the squad who ever learned about the watching was the sergeant. He was a Nisei from
San Francisco. He saw the birds watching me at point halfway through my last tour. He called the birds,
Yosei, Japanese fairies. I still remember him whispering, “Don't tell the rest of the squad.” A mortar
round got the sarge a week later. Blew him in half."

Old Ben took another swallow of coffee. That was the longest he had ever spoken to me at one time. He
looked so sad sipping the coffee. The mouse still watched.

Ben got up and rummaged around under the pile of old clothes and tree boughs he called his bed. I
always considered it more of a nest than a bed. He came back with a leather sheathed knife. He handed
it to me. “This is your Great Grandfather Ilmari's puukko. He brought it with him when he emigrated from
Finland. He gave it to me when I was ten. He said that I would need to know how to use a knife. He was