“Catch-22” By Joseph - Khamkoo

“Catch-22” By Joseph Heller 211
chaplain giggled with nervous relief. ‘Oh, is that it!’ he exclaimed. ‘Now I’m beginning to
understand. I didn’t steal that plum tomato, sir. Colonel Cathcart gave it to me. You can
even ask him if you don’t believe me.’ A door opened at the other end of the room and
Colonel Cathcart stepped into the basement as though from a closet.
‘Hello, Colonel. Colonel, he claims you gave him that plum tomato. Did you?’
‘Why should I give him a plum tomato?’ answered Colonel Cathcart.
‘Thank you, Colonel. That will be all.’
‘It’s a pleasure, Colonel,’ Colonel Cathcart replied, and he stepped back out of the
basement, closing the door after him.
‘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 Cathcard’
‘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 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 co-operate 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