“Catch-22” By Joseph - Khamkoo

“Catch-22” By Joseph Heller 65
looked at the sky and were saddened by the stars. All through the day, they looked at
the bomb line on the big, wobbling easel map of Italy that blew over in the wind and was
dragged in under the awning of the intelligence tent every time the rain began. The
bomb line was a scarlet band of narrow satin ribbon that delineated the forwardmost
position of the Allied ground forces in every sector of the Italian mainland.
The morning after Hungry Joe’s fist fight with Huple’s cat, the rain stopped falling in
both places. The landing strip began to dry. It would take a full twenty-four hours to
harden; but the sky remained cloudless. The resentments incubating in each man
hatched into hatred. First they hated the infantrymen on the mainland because they had
failed to capture Bologna. Then they began to hate the bomb line itself. For hours they
stared relentlessly at the scarlet ribbon on the map and hated it because it would not
move up high enough to encompass the city. When night fell, they congregated in the
darkness with flashlights, continuing their macabre vigil at the bomb line in brooding
entreaty as though hoping to move the ribbon up by the collective weight of their sullen
prayers.
‘I really can’t believe it,’ Clevinger exclaimed to Yossarian in a voice rising and falling
in protest and wonder. ‘It’s a complete reversion to primitive superstition. They’re
confusing cause and effect. It makes as much sense as knocking on wood or crossing
your fingers. They really believe that we wouldn’t have to fly that mission tomorrow if
someone would only tiptoe up to the map in the middle of the night and move the bomb
line over Bologna. Can you imagine? You and I must be the only rational ones left.’ In
the middle of the night Yossarian knocked on wood, crossed his fingers, and tiptoed out
of his tent to move the bomb line up over Bologna.
Corporal Kolodny tiptoed stealthily into Captain Black’s tent early the next morning,
reached inside the mosquito net and gently shook the moist shoulder-blade he found
there until Captain Black opened his eyes.
‘What are you waking me up for?’ whimpered Captain Black.
‘They captured Bologna, sir,’ said Corporal Kolodny. ‘I thought you’d want to know. Is
the mission canceled?’ Captain Black tugged himself erect and began scratching his
scrawny long thighs methodically. In a little while he dressed and emerged from his tent,
squinting, cross and unshaven. The sky was clear and warm. He peered without
emotion at the map. Sure enough, they had captured Bologna. Inside the intelligence
tent, Corporal Kolodny was already removing the maps of Bologna from the navigation
kits. Captain Black seated himself with a loud yawn, lifted his feet to the top of his desk
and phoned Colonel Korn.
‘What are you waking me up for?’ whimpered Colonel Korn.
‘They captured Bologna during the night, sir. Is the mission canceled?’
‘What are you talking about, Black?’ Colonel Korn growled. ‘Why should the mission
be canceled?’
‘Because they captured Bologna, sir. Isn’t the mission canceled?’
‘Of course the mission is canceled. Do you think we’re bombing our own troops now?’
‘What are you waking me up for?’ Colonel Cathcart whimpered to Colonel Korn.
‘They captured Bologna,’ Colonel Korn told him. ‘I thought you’d want to know.’
‘Who captured Bologna?’
‘We did.’ Colonel Cathcart was overjoyed, for he was relieved of the embarrassing
commitment to bomb Bologna without blemish to the reputation for valor he had earned
by volunteering his men to do it. General Dreedle was pleased with the capture of
Bologna, too, although he was angry with Colonel Moodus for waking him up to tell him
about it. Headquarters was also pleased and decided to award a medal to the officer
who captured the city. There was no officer who had captured the city, so they gave the
medal to General Peckem instead, because General Peckem was the only officer with
sufficient initiative to ask for it.
As soon as General Peckem had received his medal, he began asking for increased
responsibility. It was General Peckem’s opinion that all combat units in the theater
should be placed under the jurisdiction of the Special Service Corps, of which General