Catch-22(194)

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 innocence.

“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?”