Catch-22(183)
“And I’m sorry about making such a fuss about those Atabrine tablets on the way over. If you want to catch malaria, I guess it’s your business, isn’t it?”
“That’s all right, Appleby.”
“But I was only trying to do my duty. I was obeying orders. I was always taught that I had to obey orders.”
“That’s all right.”
“You know, I said to Colonel Korn and Colonel Cathcart that I didn’t think they ought to make you fly any more missions if you didn’t want to, and they said they were very disappointed in me.”
Yossarian smiled with rueful amusement. “I’ll bet they are.”
“Well, I don’t care. Hell, you’ve flown seventy-one. That ought to be enough. Do you think they’ll let you get away with it?”
“No.”
“Say, if they do let you get away with it, they’ll have to let the rest of us get away with it, won’t they?”
“That’s why they can’t let me get away with it.”
“What do you think they’ll do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think they will try to court-martial you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you afraid?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to fly more missions?”
“No.”
“I hope you do get away with it,” Appleby whispered with conviction. “I really do.”
“Thanks, Appleby.”
“I don’t feel too happy about flying so many missions either now that it looks as though we’ve got the war won. I’ll let you know if I hear anything else.”
“Thanks, Appleby.”
“Hey!” called a muted, peremptory voice from the leafless shrubs growing beside his tent in a waist-high clump after Appleby had gone. Havermeyer was hiding there in a squat. He was eating peanut brittle, and his pimples and large oily pores looked like dark scales. “How you doing?” he asked when Yossarian had walked to him.
“Pretty good.”
“Are you going to fly more missions?”
“No.”
“Suppose they try to make you?”
“I won’t let them.”
“Are you yellow?”
“Yes.”
“Will they court-martial you?”
“They’ll probably try.”
“What did Major Major say?”
“Major Major’s gone.”
“Did they disappear him?”
“I don’t know.”
“What will you do if they decide to disappear you?”
“I’ll try to stop them.”
“Didn’t they offer you any deals or anything if you did fly?”
“Piltchard and Wren said they’d arrange things so I’d only go on milk runs.”
Havermeyer perked up. “Say, that sounds like a pretty good deal. I wouldn’t mind a deal like that myself. I bet you snapped it up.”
“I turned it down.”
“That was dumb.” Havermeyer’s stolid, dull face furrowed with consternation. “Say, a deal like that wasn’t so fair to the rest of us, was it? If you only flew on milk runs, then some of us would have to fly your share of the dangerous missions, wouldn’t we?”
“That’s right.”
“Say, I don’t like that,” Havermeyer exclaimed, rising resentfully with his hands clenched on his hips. “I don’t like that a bit. That’s a real royal screwing they’re getting ready to give me just because you’re too goddam yellow to fly any more missions, isn’t it?”
“Take it up with them,” said Yossarian and moved his hand to his gun vigilantly.
“No, I’m not blaming you,” said Havermeyer, “even though I don’t like you. You know, I’m not too happy about flying so many missions any more either. Isn’t there some way I can get out of it, too?”
Yossarian snickered ironically and joked, “Put a gun on and start marching with me.”
Havermeyer shook his head thoughtfully. “Nah, I couldn’t do that. I might bring some disgrace on my wife and kid if I acted like a coward. Nobody likes a coward. Besides, I want to stay in the reserves when the war is over. You get five hundred dollars a year if you stay in the reserves.”
“Then fly more missions.”
“Yeah, I guess I have to. Say, do you think there’s any chance they might take you off combat duty and send you home?”
“No.”
“But if they do and let you take one person with you, will you pick me? Don’t pick anyone like Appleby. Pick me.”
“Why in the world should they do something like that?”
“I don’t know. But if they do, just remember that I asked you first, will you? And let me know how you’re doing. I’ll wait for you here in these bushes every night. Maybe if they don’t do anything bad to you, I won’t fly any more missions either. Okay?”