Catch-22

“But General Dreedle isn’t with us any more,” said Colonel Korn, “so we can’t take him outside and shoot him.” Now that his moment of tension with Colonel Cathcart had passed, Colonel Korn relaxed again and resumed kicking softly against Colonel Cathcart’s desk. He returned to Yossarian. “So we’re going to send you home instead. It took a bit of thinking, but we finally worked out this horrible little plan for sending you home without causing too much dissatisfaction among the friends you’ll leave behind. Doesn’t that make you happy?”

“What kind of plan? I’m not sure I’m going to like it.”

“I know you’re not going to like it.” Colonel Korn laughed, locking his hands contentedly on top of his head again. “You’re going to loathe it. It really is odious and certainly will offend your conscience. But you’ll agree to it quickly enough. You’ll agree to it because it will send you home safe and sound in two weeks, and because you have no choice. It’s that or a court-martial. Take it or leave it.”

Yossarian snorted. “Stop bluffing, Colonel. You can’t court-martial me for desertion in the face of the enemy. It would make you look bad and you probably couldn’t get a conviction.”

“But we can court-martial you now for desertion from duty, since you went to Rome without a pass. And we could make it stick. If you think about it a minute, you’ll see that you’d leave us no alternative. We can’t simply let you keep walking around in open insubordination without punishing you. All the other men would stop flying missions, too. No, you have my word for it. We will court-martial you if you turn our deal down, even though it would raise a lot of questions and be a terrible black eye for Colonel Cathcart.”

Colonel Cathcart winced at the words “black eye” and, without any apparent premeditation, hurled his slender onyx-and-ivory cigarette holder down viciously on the wooden surface on his desk. “Jesus Christ!” he shouted unexpectedly. “I hate this goddam cigarette holder!” The cigarette holder bounced off the desk to the wall, ricocheted across the window sill to the floor and came to a stop almost where he was standing. Colonel Cathcart stared down at it with an irascible scowl. “I wonder if it’s really doing me any good.”

“It’s a feather in your cap with General Peckem, but a black eye for you with General Scheisskopf,” Colonel Korn informed him with a mischievous look of i

“Well, which one am I supposed to please?”

“Both.”

“How can I please them both? They hate each other. How am I ever going to get a feather in my cap from General Scheisskopf without getting a black eye from General Peckem?”

“March.”

“Yeah, march. That’s the only way to please him. March. March.” Colonel Cathcart grimaced sullenly. “Some generals! They’re a disgrace to their uniforms. If people like those two can make general, I don’t see how I can miss.”

“You’re going to go far.” Colonel Korn assured him with a flat lack of conviction, and turned back chuckling to Yossarian, his disdainful merriment increasing at the sight of Yossarian’s unyielding expression of antagonism and distrust. “And there you have the crux of the situation. Colonel Cathcart wants to be a general and I want to be a colonel, and that’s why we have to send you home.”

“Why does he want to be a general?”

“Why? For the same reason that I want to be a colonel. What else have we got to do? Everyone teaches us to aspire to higher things. A general is higher than a colonel, and a colonel is higher than a lieutenant colonel. So we’re both aspiring. And you know, Yossarian, it’s a lucky thing for you that we are. Your timing on this is absolutely perfect, but I suppose you took that factor into account in your calculations.”

“I haven’t been doing any calculating,” Yossarian retorted.

“Yes, I really do enjoy the way you lie,” Colonel Korn answered. “Won’t it make you proud to have your commanding officer promoted to general-to know you served in an outfit that averaged more combat missions per person than any other? Don’t you want to earn more unit citations and more oak leaf clusters for your Air Medal? Where’s your ‘sprit de corps?’ Don’t you want to contribute further to this great record by flying more combat missions? It’s your last chance to answer yes.”

“No.”

“In that case, you have us over a barrel-“ said Colonel Korn without rancor.

“He ought to be ashamed of himself!”

“-and we have to send you home. Just do a few little things for us, and-“

“What sort of things?” Yossarian interrupted with belligerent misgiving.

“Oh, tiny, insignificant things. Really, this is a very generous deal we’re making with you. We will issue orders returning you to the States-really, we will-and all you have to do in return is…”

“What? What must I do?”

Colonel Korn laughed curtly. “Like us.”

Yossarian blinked. “Like you?”

“Like us.”

“Like you?”

“That’s right,” said Colonel Korn, nodding, gratified immeasurably by Yossarian’s guileless surprise and bewilderment. “Like us. Join us. Be our pal. Say nice things about us here and back in the States. Become one of the boys. Now, that isn’t asking too much, is it?”

“You just want me to like you? Is that all?”

“That’s all.”

“That’s all?”

“Just find it in your heart to like us.”

Yossarian wanted to laugh confidently when he saw with amazement that Colonel Korn was telling the truth. “That isn’t going to be too easy,” he sneered.

“Oh, it will be a lot easier than you think,” Colonel Korn taunted in return, undismayed by Yossarian’s barb. “You’ll be surprised at how easy you’ll find it to like us once you begin.” Colonel Korn hitched up the waist of his loose, voluminous trousers. The deep black grooves isolating his square chin from his jowls were bent again in a kind of jeering and reprehensible mirth. “You see, Yossarian, we’re going to put you on easy street. We’re going to promote you to major and even give you another medal. Captain Flume is already working on glowing press releases describing your valor over Ferrara, your deep and abiding loyalty to your outfit and your consummate dedication to duty. Those phrases are all actual quotations, by the way. We’re going to glorify you and send you home a hero, recalled by the Pentagon for morale and public-relations purposes. You’ll live like a millionaire. Everyone will lionize you. You’ll have parades in your honor and make speeches to raise money for war bonds. A whole new world of luxury awaits you once you become our pal. Isn’t it lovely?”

Yossarian found himself listening intently to the fascinating elucidation of details. “I’m not sure I want to make speeches.”

“Then we’ll forget the speeches. The important thing is what you say to people here.” Colonel Korn leaned forward earnestly, no longer smiling. “We don’t want any of the men in the group to know that we’re sending you home as a result of your refusal to fly more missions. And we don’t want General Peckem or General Scheisskopf to get wind of any friction between us, either. That’s why we’re going to become such good pals.”

“What will I say to the men who asked me why I refused to fly more missions?”

“Tell them you had been informed in confidence that you were being returned to the States and that you were unwilling to risk your life for another mission or two. Just a minor disagreement between pals, that’s all.”

“Will they believe it?”

“Of course they’ll believe it, once they see what great friends we’ve become and when they see the press releases and read the flattering things you have to say about me and Colonel Cathcart. Don’t worry about the men. They’ll be easy enough to discipline and control when you’ve gone. It’s only while you’re still here that they may prove troublesome. You know, one good apple can spoil the rest,” Colonel Korn concluded with conscious irony. “You know-this would really be wonderful-you might even serve as an inspiration to them to fly more missions.”