“Catch-22” By Joseph - Khamkoo

“Catch-22” By Joseph Heller 50
all. The vast majority consisted of allusions to prior communications which Major Major
had never seen or heard of. There was never any need to look them up, for the
instructions were invariably to disregard. In the space of a single productive minute,
therefore, he might endorse twenty separate documents each advising him to pay
absolutely no attention to any of the others. From General Peckem’s office on the
mainland came prolix bulletins each day headed by such cheery homilies as
‘Procrastination is the Thief of Time’ and ‘Cleanliness is Next to Godliness.’ General
Peckem’s communications about cleanliness and procrastination made Major Major feel
like a filthy procrastinator, and he always got those out of the way as quickly as he
could. The only official documents that interested him were those occasional ones
pertaining to the unfortunate second lieutenant who had been killed on the mission over
Orvieto less than two hours after he arrived on Pianosa and whose partly unpacked
belongings were still in Yossarian’s tent. Since the unfortunate lieutenant had reported
to the operations tent instead of to the orderly room, Sergeant Towser had decided that
it would be safest to report him as never having reported to the squadron at all, and the
occasional documents relating to him dealt with the fact that he seemed to have
vanished into thin air, which, in one way, was exactly what did happen to him. In the
long run, Major Major was grateful for the official documents that came to his desk, for
sitting in his office signing them all day long was a lot better than sitting in his office all
day long not signing them. They gave him something to do.
Inevitably, every document he signed came back with a fresh page added for a new
signature by him after intervals of from two to ten days. They were always much thicker
than formerly, for in between the sheet bearing his last endorsement and the sheet
added for his new endorsement were the sheets bearing the most recent endorsements
of all the other officers in scattered locations who were also occupied in signing their
names to that same official document. Major Major grew despondent as he watched
simple communications swell prodigiously into huge manuscripts. No matter how many
times he signed one, it always came back for still another signature, and he began to
despair of ever being free of any of them. One day—it was the day after the C.I.D.
man’s first visit—Major Major signed Washington Irving’s name to one of the documents
instead of his own, just to see how it would feel. He liked it. He liked it so much that for
the rest of that afternoon he did the same with all the official documents. It was an act of
impulsive frivolity and rebellion for which he knew afterward he would be punished
severely. The next morning he entered his office in trepidation and waited to see what
would happen. Nothing happened.
He had sinned, and it was good, for none of the documents to which he had signed
Washington Irving’s name ever came back! Here, at last, was progress, and Major Major
threw himself into his new career with uninhibited gusto. Signing Washington Irving’s
name to official documents was not much of a career, perhaps, but it was less
monotonous than signing ‘Major Major Major.’ When Washington Irving did grow
monotonous, he could reverse the order and sign Irving Washington until that grew
monotonous. And he was getting something done, for none of the documents signed
with either of these names ever came back to the squadron.
What did come back, eventually, was a second C.I.D. man, masquerading as a pilot.
The men knew he was a C.I.D. man because he confided to them he was and urged
each of them not to reveal his true identity to any of the other men to whom he had
already confided that he was a C.I.D. man.
‘You’re the only one in the squadron who knows I’m a C.I.D. man,’ he confided to
Major Major, ‘and it’s absolutely essential that it remain a secret so that my efficiency
won’t be impaired. Do you understand?’
‘Sergeant Towser knows.’
‘Yes, I know. I had to tell him in order to get in to see you. But I know he won’t tell a
soul under any circumstances.’
‘He told me,’ said Major Major. ‘He told me there was a C.I.D. man outside to see me.’
‘That bastard. I’ll have to throw a security check on him. I wouldn’t leave any top-