“Catch-22” By Joseph - Khamkoo

“Catch-22” By Joseph Heller 33
‘I give a great deal of it to Dunbar,’ Yossarian went on.
‘ Dunbar?’ Milo echoed numbly.
‘Yes. Dunbar can eat all the fruit he wants and it won’t do him a damned bit of good. I
just leave the carton right out there in the open for anyone who wants any to come and
help himself. Aarfy comes here to get prunes because he says he never gets enough
prunes in the mess hall. You might look into that when you’ve got some time because
it’s no fun having Aarfy hanging around here. Whenever the supply runs low I just have
Corporal Snark fill me up again. Nately always takes a whole load of fruit along with him
whenever he goes to Rome. He’s in love with a whore there who hates me and isn’t at
all interested in him. She’s got a kid sister who never leaves them alone in bed together,
and they live in an apartment with an old man and woman and a bunch of other girls
with nice fat thighs who are always kidding around also. Nately brings them a whole
cartonful every time he goes.’
‘Does he sell it to them?’
‘No, he gives it to them.’ Milo frowned. ‘Well, I suppose that’s very generous of him,’
he remarked with no enthusiasm.
‘Yes, very generous,’ Yossarian agreed.
‘And I’m sure it’s perfectly legal,’ said Milo, ‘since the food is yours once you get it
from me. I suppose that with conditions as hard as they are, these people are very glad
to get it.’
‘Yes, very glad,’ Yossarian assured him. ‘The two girls sell it all on the black market
and use the money to buy flashy costume jewelry and cheap perfume.’ Milo perked up.
‘Costume jewelry!’ he exclaimed. ‘I didn’t know that. How much are they paying for
cheap perfume?’
‘The old man uses his share to buy raw whiskey and dirty pictures. He’s a lecher.’
‘A lecher?’
‘You’d be surprised.’
‘Is there much of a market in Rome for dirty pictures?’ Milo asked.
‘You’d be surprised. Take Aarfy, for instance. Knowing him, you’d never suspect,
would you?’
‘That he’s a lecher?’
‘No, that he’s a navigator. You know Captain Aardvaark, don’t you? He’s that nice guy
who came up to you your first day in the squadron and said, "Aardvaark’s my name, and
navigation is my game." He wore a pipe in his face and probably asked you what college
you went to. Do you know him?’ Milo was paying no attention. ‘Let me be your partner,’
he blurted out imploringly.
Yossarian turned him down, even though he had no doubt that the truckloads of fruit
would be theirs to dispose of any way they saw fit once Yossarian had requisitioned
them from the mess hall with Doc Daneeka’s letter. Milo was crestfallen, but from that
moment on he trusted Yossarian with every secret but one, reasoning shrewdly that
anyone who would not steal from the country he loved would not steal from anybody.
Milo trusted Yossarian with every secret but the location of the holes in the hills in which
he began burying his money once he returned from Smyrna with his planeload of figs
and learned from Yossarian that a C.I.D. man had come to the hospital. To Milo, who
had been gullible enough to volunteer for it, the position of mess officer was a sacred
trust.
‘I didn’t even realize we weren’t serving enough prunes,’ he had admitted that first
day. ‘I suppose it’s because I’m still so new. I’ll raise the question with my first chef.’
Yossarian eyed him sharply. ‘What first chef?’ he demanded. ‘You don’t have a first
chef.’
‘Corporal Snark,’ Milo explained, looking away a little guiltily. ‘He’s the only chef I
have, so he really is my first chef, although I hope to move him over to the
administrative side. Corporal Snark tends to be a little too creative, I feel. He thinks
being a mess sergeant is some sort of art form and is always complaining about having
to prostitute his talents. Nobody is asking him to do any such thing! Incidentally, do you