“Well, Chaplain? What have you got to say now?”
“He did give it to me!” the chaplain hissed in a whisper that was both fierce and fearful. “He did give it to me!”
“You’re not calling a superior officer a liar, are you, Chaplain?”
“Why should a superior officer give you a plum tomato, Chaplain?”
“Is that why you tried to give it to Sergeant Whitcomb, Chaplain? Because it was a hot tomato?”
“No, no, no,” the chaplain protested, wondering miserably why they were not able to understand. “I offered it to Sergeant Whitcomb because I didn’t want it.”
“Why’d you steal it from Colonel Cathcart if you didn’t want it?”
“I didn’t steal it from Colonel Cathcart!”
“Then why are you so guilty, if you didn’t steal it?”
“I’m not guilty!”
“Then why would we be questioning you if you weren’t guilty?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” the chaplain groaned, kneading his fingers in his lap and shaking his bowed and anguished head. “I don’t know.”
“He thinks we have time to waste,” snorted the major.
“Chaplain,” resumed the officer without insignia at a more leisurely pace, lifting a typewritten sheet of yellow paper from the open folder, “I have a signed statement here from Colonel Cathcart asserting you stole that plum tomato from him.” He lay the sheet face down on one side of the folder and picked up a second page from the other side. “And here I have a notarized affidavit from Sergeant Whitcomb in which he states that he knew the tomato was hot just from the way you tried to unload it on him.”
“I swear to God I didn’t steal it, sir,” the chaplain pleaded with distress, almost in tears. “I give you my sacred word it was not a hot tomato.”
“Chaplain, do you believe in God?”
“Yes, sir. Of course I do.”
“That’s odd, Chaplain,” said the officer, taking from the folder another typewritten yellow page, “because I have here in my hands now another statement from Colonel Cathcart in which he swears that you refused to cooperate with him in conducting prayer meetings in the briefing room before each mission.”
After looking blank a moment, the chaplain nodded quickly with recollection. “Oh, that’s not quite true, sir,” he explained eagerly. “Colonel Cathcart gave up the idea himself once he realized enlisted men pray to the same God as officers.”
“He did what?” exclaimed the officer in disbelief.
“What nonsense!” declared the red-faced colonel, and swung away from the chaplain with dignity and annoyance.
“Does he expect us to believe that?” cried the major incredulously.
The officer without insignia chuckled acidly. “Chaplain, aren’t you stretching things a bit far now?” he inquired with a smile that was indulgent and unfriendly.
“But, sir, it’s the truth, sir! I swear it’s the truth.”
“I don’t see how that matters one way or the other,” the officer answered nonchalantly, and reached sideways again toward the open folder filled with papers. “Chaplain, did you say you did believe in God in answer to my question? I don’t remember.”
“Yes, sir. I did say so, sir. I do believe in God.”
“Then that really is very odd, Chaplain, because I have here another affidavit from Colonel Cathcart that states you once told him atheism was not against the law. Do you recall ever making a statement like that to anyone?”
The chaplain nodded without any hesitation, feeling himself on very solid ground now. “Yes, sir, I did make a statement like that. I made it because it’s true. Atheism is not against the law.”
“But that’s still no reason to say so, Chaplain, is it?” the officer chided tartly, frowning, and picked up still one more typewritten, notarized page from the folder. “And here I have another sworn statement from Sergeant Whitcomb that says you opposed his plan of sending letters of condolence over Colonel Cathcart’s signature to the next of kin of men killed or wounded in combat. Is that true?”
“Yes, sir, I did oppose it,” answered the chaplain. “And I’m proud that I did. Those letters are insincere and dishonest. Their only purpose is to bring glory to Colonel Cathcart.”
“But what difference does that make?” replied the officer. “They still bring solace and comfort to the families that receive them, don’t they? Chaplain, I simply can’t understand your thinking process.”
The chaplain was stumped and at a complete loss for a reply. He hung his head, feeling tongue-tied and naïve.