Catch-22(205)

“Washed ashore, hell!” Yossarian declared, jumping all about also and roaring in laughing exultation at the walls, the ceiling, the chaplain and Major Danby. “He didn’t wash ashore in Sweden. He rowed there! He rowed there, Chaplain, he rowed there.”

“Rowed there?”

“He planned it that way! He went to Sweden deliberately.”

“Well, I don’t care!” the chaplain flung back with undiminished zeal. “It’s still a miracle, a miracle of human intelligence and human endurance. Look how much he accomplished!” The chaplain clutched his head with both hands and doubled over in laughter. “Can’t you just picture him?” he exclaimed with amazement. “Can’t you just picture him in that yellow raft, paddling through the Straits of Gilbraltar at night with that tiny little blue oar—”

“With that fishing line trailing out behind him, eating raw codfish all the way to Sweden, and serving himself tea every afternoon—”

“I can just see him!” cried the chaplain, pausing a moment in his celebration to catch his breath. “It’s a miracle of human perseverance, I tell you. And that’s just what I’m going to do from now on! I’m going to persevere. Yes, I’m going to persevere.”

“He knew what he was doing every step of the way!” Yossarian rejoiced, holding both fists aloft triumphantly as though hoping to squeeze revelations from them. He spun to a stop facing Major Danby. “Danby, you dope! There is hope, after all. Can’t you see? Even Clevinger might be alive somewhere in that cloud of his, hiding inside until it’s safe to come out.”

“What are you talking about?” Major Danby asked in confusion. “What are you both talking about?”

“Bring me apples, Danby, and chestnuts too. Run, Danby, run. Bring me crab apples and horse chestnuts before it’s too late, and get some for yourself.”

“Horse chestnuts? Crab apples? What in the world for?”

“To pop into our cheeks, of course.” Yossarian threw his arms up into the air in a gesture of mighty and despairing self-recrimination. “Oh, why didn’t I listen to him? Why wouldn’t I have some faith?”

“Have you gone crazy?” Major Danby demanded with alarm and bewilderment. “Yossarian, will you please tell me what you are talking about?”

“Danby, Orr planned it that way. Don’t you understand—he planned it that way from the beginning. He even practiced getting shot down. He rehearsed for it on every mission he flew. And I wouldn’t go with him! Oh, why wouldn’t I listen? He invited me along, and I wouldn’t go with him! Danby, bring me buck teeth too, and a valve to fix and a look of stupid innocence that nobody would ever suspect of any cleverness. I’ll need them all. Oh, why wouldn’t I listen to him. Now I understand what he was trying to tell me. I even understand why that girl was hitting him on the head with her shoe.”

“Why?” inquired the chaplain sharply.

Yossarian whirled and seized the chaplain by the shirt front in an importuning grip. “Chaplain, help me! Please help me. Get my clothes. And hurry, will you? I need them right away.”

The chaplain started away alertly. “Yes, Yossarian, I will. But where are they? How will I get them?”

“By bullying and browbeating anybody who tries to stop you. Chaplain, get me my uniform! It’s around this hospital somewhere. For once in your life, succeed at something.”

The chaplain straightened his shoulders with determination and tightened his jaw. “Don’t worry, Yossarian. I’ll get your uniform. But why was that girl hitting Orr over the head with her shoe? Please tell me.”

“Because he was paying her to, that’s why! But she wouldn’t hit him hard enough, so he had to row to Sweden. Chaplain, find me my uniform so I can get out of here. Ask Nurse Duckett for it. She’ll help you. She’ll do anything she can to be rid of me.”

“Where are you going?” Major Danby asked apprehensively when the chaplain had shot from the room. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to run away,” Yossarian announced in an exuberant, clear voice, already tearing open the buttons of his pajama tops.

“Oh, no,” Major Danby groaned, and began patting his perspiring face rapidly with the bare palms of both hands. “You can’t run away. Where can you run to? Where can you go?”

“To Sweden.”

“To Sweden?” Major Danby exclaimed in astonishment. “You’re going to run to Sweden? Are you crazy?”

“Orr did it.”

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no,” Major Danby pleaded. “No, Yossarian, you’ll never get there. You can’t run away to Sweden. You can’t even row.”