| 23 Фев, 2007 22:05 Shaftoe and Root haul the mortar and a boxload of bombs down onto the
beach, where they can take cover behind a stone retaining wall a good five
feet high. But the surf makes it impossible to hear anything, so Root goes
up and hides in the trees along the road, and leaves Shaftoe to fiddle with
the Soviet mortar.
There turns out to be not much fiddling necessary. An unlettered tundra
farmer with bilateral frostbite could get this thing up and running in ten
minutes. If he'd stayed up late the night before celebrating the fulfillment
of the last five year plan with a jug of wood alcohol maybe fifteen minutes.
Shaftoe consults the instructions. It does not matter that these are
printed in Russian, because they are made for illiterates anyway. A series
of parabolas is plotted out, the mortar supporting one leg and exploding
Germans supporting the opposite. Ask a Soviet engineer to design a pair of
shoes and he'll come up with something that looks like the boxes that the
shoes came in; ask him to make something that will massacre Germans, and he turns into Thomas Fucking Edison Оставить комментарий |
