Matterhorn

by Karl Marlantes

Hawke had learned long ago that what really mattered in combat was what people were like when they were exhausted.

Soon the smears of purple and orange Kool-Aid on their lips combined with the fear in their eyes to make them look like children returning from a birthday party at which the hostess had shown horror films.

Hawke visibly softened. He handed up the steaming cup and smiled. “Shit, Mellas, drink this. It cures all ills, even vainglory and ambition. The only thing that hurts about a rebuke is the truth.”

“Well. You know Jesus,” Cortell said. “He spoke in parables. You know why? Because when you speak in parables it’s the listener comes up with the right answer, not what the talker think is the right answer.