“Catch-22” By Joseph - Khamkoo

“Catch-22” By Joseph Heller 247
Yossarian leaped out of bed with an incredulous yelp when he finally understood.
‘ Sweden?’ he cried.
‘Orr!’ cried the chaplain.
‘Orr?’ cried Yossarian.
‘Sweden!’ cried the chaplain, shaking his head up and down with gleeful rapture and
prancing about uncontrollably from spot to spot in a grinning, delicious frenzy. ‘It’s a
miracle, I tell you! A miracle! I believe in God again. I really do. Washed ashore in
Sweden after so many weeks at sea! It’s a miracle.’
‘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 Gibraltar 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.’