“Catch-22” By Joseph - Khamkoo

“Catch-22” By Joseph Heller 180
some difference to Headquarters,’ he answered in a conciliatory tone. ‘I suppose that’s
why they ordered the mission.’
‘Have the people in the village been warned?’ asked McWatt.
Major Danby was dismayed that McWatt too was registering opposition. ‘No, I don’t
think so.’
‘Haven’t we dropped any leaflets telling them that this time we’ll be flying over to hit
them?’ asked Yossarian. ‘Can’t we even tip them off so they’ll get out of the way?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’ Major Danby was swearing some more and still shifting his eyes
about uneasily. ‘The Germans might find out and choose another road. I’m not sure
about any of this. I’m just making assumptions.’
‘They won’t even take shelter,’ Dunbar argued bitterly. ‘They’ll pour out into the streets
to wave when they see our planes coming, all the children and dogs and old people.
Jesus Christ! Why can’t we leave them alone?’
‘Why can’t we create the roadblock somewhere else?’ asked McWatt. ‘Why must it be
there?’
‘I don’t know,’ Major Danby answered unhappily. ‘I don’t know. Look, fellows, we’ve
got to have some confidence in the people above us who issue our orders. They know
what they’re doing.’
‘The hell they do,’ said Dunbar.
‘What’s the trouble?’ inquired Colonel Korn, moving leisurely across the briefing room
with his hands in his pockets and his tan shirt baggy.
‘Oh, no trouble, Colonel,’ said Major Danby, trying nervously to cover up. ‘We’re just
discussing the mission.’
‘They don’t want to bomb the village,’ Havermeyer snickered, giving Major Danby
away.
‘You prick!’ Yossarian said to Havermeyer.
‘You leave Havermeyer alone,’ Colonel Korn ordered Yossarian curtly. He recognized
Yossarian as the drunk who had accosted him roughly at the officers’ club one night
before the first mission to Bologna, and he swung his displeasure prudently to Dunbar.
‘Why don’t you want to bomb the village?’
‘It’s cruel, that’s why.’
‘Cruel?’ asked Colonel Korn with cold good humor, frightened only momentarily by the
uninhibited vehemence of Dunbar’s hostility. ‘Would it be any less cruel to let those two
German divisions down to fight with our troops? American lives are at stake, too, you
know. Would you rather see American blood spilled?’
‘American blood is being spilled. But those people are living up there in peace. Why
can’t we leave them the hell alone?’
‘Yes, it’s easy for you to talk,’ Colonel Korn jeered. ‘You’re safe here in Pianosa. It
won’t make any difference to you when these German reinforcements arrive, will it?’
Dunbar turned crimson with embarrassment and replied in a voice that was suddenly
defensive. ‘Why can’t we create the roadblock somewhere else? Couldn’t we bomb the
slope of a mountain or the road itself?’
‘Would you rather go back to Bologna?’ The question, asked quietly, rang out like a
shot and created a silence in the room that was awkward and menacing. Yossarian
prayed intensely, with shame, that Dunbar would keep his mouth shut. Dunbar dropped
his gaze, and Colonel Korn knew he had won. ‘No, I thought not,’ he continued with
undisguised scorn. ‘You know, Colonel Cathcart and I have to go to a lot of trouble to
get you a milk run like this. If you’d sooner fly missions to Bologna, Spezia and Ferrara,
we can get those targets with no trouble at all.’ His eyes gleamed dangerously behind
his rimless glasses, and his muddy jowls were square and hard. ‘Just let me know.’
‘I would,’ responded Havermeyer eagerly with another boastful snicker. ‘I like to fly into
Bologna straight and level with my head in the bombsight and listen to all that flak
pumping away all around me. I get a big kick out of the way the men come charging
over to me after the mission and call me dirty names. Even the enlisted men get sore
enough to curse me and want to take socks at me.’ Colonel Korn chucked Havermeyer