Colonel Cathcart was not thinking anything at all about the chaplain, but was tangled¹ up in a brand-new,menacing problem of his own: Yossarian!

　　Yossarian! The mere² sound of that execrable, ugly name made his blood run cold and his breath come in laboredgasps. The chaplain’s first mention of the name Yossarian! had tolled⁴ deep in his memory like a portentous⁵ gong.

　　As soon as the latch⁶ of the door had clicked shut, the whole humiliating recollection of the naked man information came cascading⁷ down upon him in a mortifying⁸, choking flood of stinging details. He began toperspire and tremble. There was a sinister¹⁰ and unlikely coincidence exposed that was too diabolical¹¹ inimplication to be anything less than the most hideous¹² of omens¹³. The name of the man who had stood naked inranks that day to receive his Distinguished¹⁴ Flying Cross from General Dreedle had also been—Yossarian! Andnow it was a man named Yossarian who was threatening to make trouble over the sixty missions he had justordered the men in his group to fly. Colonel Cathcart wondered gloomily if it was the same Yossarian.

　　He climbed to his feet with an air of intolerable woe¹⁵ and began moving about his office. He felt himself in thepresence of the mysterious. The naked man in formation, he conceded cheerlessly, had been a real black eye forhim. So had the tampering¹⁶ with the bomb line before the mission to Bologna and the seven-day delay indestroying the bridge at Ferrara, even though destroying the bridge at Ferrara finally, he remembered with glee,had been a real feather in his cap, although losing a plane there the second time around, he recalled in dejection,had been another black eye, even though he had won another real feather in his cap by getting a medal approvedfor the bombardier who had gotten him the real black eye in the first place by going around over the target twice.

　　That bombardier’s name, he remembered suddenly with another stupefying shock, had also been Yossarian!

　　Now there were three! His viscous¹⁷ eyes bulged¹⁸ with astonishment¹⁹ and he whipped himself around in alarm to seewhat was taking place behind him. A moment ago there had been no Yossarians in his life; now they weremultiplying like hobgoblins. He tried to make himself grow calm. Yossarian was not a common name; perhapsthere were not really three Yossarians but only two Yossarians, or maybe even only one Yossarian—but thatreally made no difference! The colonel was still in grave peril²⁰. Intuition warned him that he was drawing close tosome immense and inscrutable cosmic climax²¹, and his broad, meaty, towering frame tingled²² from head to toe atthe thought that Yossarian, whoever he would eventually turn out to be, was destined²³ to serve as his nemesis²⁴.

　　Colonel Cathcart was not superstitious²⁵, but he did believe in omens, and he sat right back down behind his deskand made a cryptic²⁶ notation²⁷ on his memorandum²⁸ pad to look into the whole suspicious business of theYossarians right away. He wrote his reminder²⁹ to himself in a heavy and decisive hand, amplifying³⁰ it sharply witha series of coded punctuation³¹ marks and underlining the whole message twice, so that it read:

　　Yossarian! ! ! (?)!

　　The colonel sat back when he had finished and was extremely pleased with himself for the prompt action he hadjust taken to meet this sinister crisis. Yossarian—the very sight of the name made him shudder³². There were somany esses in it. It just had to be subversive³³. It was like the word subversive itself. It was like seditious andinsidious too, and like socialist³⁴, suspicious, fascist³⁵ and Communist. It was an odious³⁶, alien, distasteful name, thatjust did not inspire confidence. It was not at all like such clean, crisp, honest, American names as Cathcart,Peckem and Dreedle.

　　Colonel Cathcart rose slowly and began drifting about his office again. Almost unconsciously, he picked up aplum tomato from the top of one of the bushels and took a voracious³⁷ bite. He made a wry³⁸ face at once and threwthe rest of the plum tomato into his waste-basket. The colonel did not like plum tomatoes, not even when theywere his own, and these were not even his own. These had been purchased in different market places all overPianosa by Colonel Korn under various identities, moved up to the colonel’s farmhouse³⁹ in the hills in the dead ofnight, and transported down to Group Headquarters the next morning for sale to Milo, who paid Colonel Cathcartand Colonel Korn premium⁴⁰ prices for them. Colonel Cathcart often wondered if what they were doing with theplum tomatoes was legal, but Colonel Korn said it was, and he tried not to brood about it too often. He had noway of knowing whether or not the house in the hills was legal, either, since Colonel Korn had made all thearrangements. Colonel Cathcart did not know if he owned the house or rented it, from whom he had acquired itor how much, if anything, it was costing. Colonel Korn was the lawyer, and if Colonel Korn assured him thatfraud, extortion, currency manipulation, embezzlement⁴², income tax evasion⁴³ and black-market speculations⁴⁴ werelegal, Colonel Cathcart was in no position to disagree with him.

　　All Colonel Cathcart knew about his house in the hills was that he had such a house and hated it. He was neverso bored as when spending there the two or three days every other week necessary to sustain the illusion that hisdamp and drafty stone farmhouse in the hills was a golden palace of carnal delights. Officers’ clubs everywherepulsated with blurred⁴⁵ but knowing accounts of lavish⁴⁶, hushed-up drinking and sex orgies there and of secret,intimate nights of ecstasy⁴⁷ with the most beautiful, the most tantalizing⁴⁸, the most readily aroused and most easilysatisfied Italian courtesans, film actresses, models and countesses. No such private nights of ecstasy or hushed-up drinking and sex orgies ever occurred. They might have occurred if either General Dreedle or GeneralPeckem had once evinced an interest in taking part in orgies with him, but neither ever did, and the colonel wascertainly not going to waste his time and energy making love to beautiful women unless there was something init for him.

　　The colonel dreaded⁴⁹ his dank lonely nights at his farmhouse and the dull, uneventful days. He had much morefun back at Group, browbeating⁵⁰ everyone he wasn’t afraid of. However, as Colonel Korn kept reminding him,there was not much glamour⁵¹ in having a farmhouse in the hills if he never used it. He drove off to his farmhouse each time in a mood of self-pity. He carried a shotgun in his jeep and spent the monotonous⁵² hours there shootingit at birds and at the plum tomatoes that did grow there in untended rows and were too much trouble to harvest.

　　Among those officers of inferior rank toward whom Colonel Cathcart still deemed it prudent⁵³ to show respect, heincluded Major ---de Coverley, even though he did not want to and was not sure he even had to. Major ---deCoverley was as great a mystery to him as he was to Major Major and to everyone else who ever took notice ofhim. Colonel Cathcart had no idea whether to look up or look down in his attitude toward Major --- de Coverley.

　　Major ---de Coverley was only a major, even though he was ages older than Colonel Cathcart; at the same time,so many other people treated Major ---de Coverley with such profound and fearful veneration⁵⁵ that ColonelCathcart had a hunch⁵⁶ they might know something. Major ---de Coverley was an ominous⁵⁷, incomprehensiblepresence who kept him constantly on edge and of whom even Colonel Korn tended to be wary⁵⁸. Everyone wasafraid of him, and no one knew why. No one even knew Major ---de Coverley’s first name, because no one hadever had the temerity⁵⁹ to ask him. Colonel Cathcart knew that Major ---de Coverley was away and he rejoiced inhis absence until it occurred to him that Major --- de Coverley might be away somewhere conspiring⁶⁰ against him,and then he wished that Major ---de Coverley were back in his squadron where he belonged so that he could bewatched.

　　In a little while Colonel Cathcart’s arches began to ache from pacing back and forth⁶¹ so much. He sat downbehind his desk again and resolved to embark⁶² upon a mature and systematic⁶³ evaluation⁶⁴ of the entire militarysituation. With the businesslike air of a man who knows how to get things done, he found a large white pad,drew a straight line down the middle and crossed it near the top, dividing the page into two blank columns ofequal width. He rested a moment in critical rumination⁶⁵. Then he huddled⁶⁶ over his desk, and at the head of the leftcolumn, in a cramped⁶⁷ and finicky hand, he wrote, “Black Eyes!!!” At the top of the right column he wrote,“Feathers in My Cap!!! !!” He leaned back once more to inspect his chart admiringly from an objectiveperspective. After a few seconds of solemn deliberation, he licked the tip of his pencil carefully and wrote under“Black Eyes!!!,” after intent intervals⁶⁸:

　　FerraraBologna (bomb line moved on map during)Skeet rangeNaked man information (after Avignon)Then he added:

　　Food poisoning (during Bologna)andMoaning (epidemic of during Avignon briefing)Then he added:

　　Chaplain (hanging around officers’ club every night)He decided⁶⁹ to be charitable about the chaplain, even though he did not like him, and under “Feathers in MyCap!!! !!” he wrote:

　　Chaplain (hanging around officers’ club every night)The two chaplain entries, therefore, neutralized⁷⁰ each other. Alongside “Ferrara” and “Naked man in formation(after Avignon)” he then wrote:

　　Yossarian!

　　Alongside “Bologna (bomb line moved on map during)” “Food poisoning (during Bologna)” and “Moaning(epidemic of during Avignon briefing)” he wrote in a bold, decisive hand:

　　Those entries labeled “?” were the ones he wanted to investigate immediately to determine if Yossarian hadplayed any part in them.

　　Suddenly his arm began to shake, and he was unable to write any more. He rose to his feet in terror, feelingsticky and fat, and rushed to the open window to gulp⁷¹ in fresh air. His gaze fell on the skeet-range, and he reeledaway with a sharp cry of distress⁷², his wild and feverish⁷³ eyes scanning the walls of his office frantically⁷⁴ as thoughthey were swarming⁷⁵ with Yossarians.

　　Nobody loved him. General Dreedle hated him, although General Peckem liked him, although he couldn’t besure, since Colonel Cargill, General Peckem’s aide, undoubtedly⁷⁶ had ambitions of his own and was probablysabotaging him with General Peckem at every opportunity. The only good colonel, he decided, was a deadcolonel, except for himself. The only colonel he trusted was Colonel Moodus, and even he had an in with hisfather-in-law. Milo, of course, had been the big feather in his cap, although having his group bombed by Milo’splanes had probably been a terrible black eye for him, even though Milo had ultimately stilled all protest bydisclosing the huge net profit the syndicate had realized on the deal with the enemy and convincing everyone thatbombing his own men and planes had therefore really been a commendable⁷⁷ and very lucrative⁷⁸ blow on the sideof private enterprise. The colonel was insecure about Milo because other colonels were trying to lure⁷⁹ him away,and Colonel Cathcart still had that lousy Big Chief White Halfoat in his group who that lousy, lazy CaptainBlack claimed was the one really responsible for the bomb line’s being moved during the Big Siege of Bologna.

　　Colonel Cathcart liked Big Chief White Halfoat because Big Chief White Halfoat kept punching that lousyColonel Moodus in the nose every time he got drunk and Colonel Moodus was around. He wished that Big ChiefWhite Halfoat would begin punching Colonel Korn in his fat face, too. Colonel Korn was a lousy smart aleck.

　　Someone at Twenty-seventh Air Force Headquarters had it in for him and sent back every report he wrote with ablistering rebuke⁸⁰, and Colonel Korn had bribed⁸¹ a clever mail clerk there named Wintergreen to try to find outwho it was. Losing the plane over Ferrara the second time around had not done him any good, he had to admit,and neither had having that other plane disappear inside that cloud—that was one he hadn’t even written down!

　　He tried to recall, longingly⁸², if Yossarian had been lost in that plane in the cloud and realized that Yossariancould not possibly have been lost in that plane in the cloud if he was still around now raising such a big stinkabout having to fly a lousy five missions more.

　　Maybe sixty missions were too many for the men to fly, Colonel Cathcart reasoned, if Yossarian objected toflying them, but he then remembered that forcing his men to fly more missions than everyone else was the mosttangible achievement he had going for him. As Colonel Korn often remarked, the war was crawling with groupcommanders who were merely doing their duty, and it required just some sort of dramatic gesture like makinghis group fly more combat missions than any other bomber⁸³ group to spotlight⁸⁴ his unique qualities of leadership.

　　Certainly none of the generals seemed to object to what he was doing, although as far as he could detect theyweren’t particularly impressed either, which made him suspect that perhaps sixty combat missions were notnearly enough and that he ought to increase the number at once to seventy, eighty, a hundred, or even twohundred, three hundred, or six thousand!

　　Certainly he would be much better off under somebody suave⁸⁶ like General Peckem than he was under somebodyboorish and insensitive like General Dreedle, because General Peckem had the discernment, the intelligence andthe Ivy⁸⁷ League background to appreciate and enjoy him at his full value, although General Peckem had nevergiven the slightest indication that he appreciated or enjoyed him at all. Colonel Cathcart felt perceptive⁸⁸ enough torealize that visible signals of recognition were never necessary between sophisticated, self-assured people likehimself and General Peckem who could warm to each other from a distance with innate⁸⁹ mutual⁹⁰ understanding. Itwas enough that they were of like kind, and he knew it was only a matter of waiting discreetly⁹² for prefermentuntil the right time, although it rotted Colonel Cathcart’s self-esteem to observe that General Peckem neverdeliberately sought him out and that he labored³ no harder to impress Colonel Cathcart with his epigrams anderudition than he did to impress anyone else in earshot, even enlisted⁹⁴ men. Either Colonel Cathcart wasn’tgetting through to General Peckem or General Peckem was not the scintillating⁹⁵, discriminating⁹⁶, intellectual,forward-looking personality he pretended to be and it was really General Dreedle who was sensitive, charming,brilliant and sophisticated and under whom he would certainly be much better off, and suddenly ColonelCathcart had absolutely no conception of how strongly he stood with anyone and began banging on his buzzerwith his fist for Colonel Korn to come running into his office and assure him that everybody loved him, thatYossarian was a figment of his imagination, and that he was making wonderful progress in the splendid andvaliant campaign he was waging to become a general.

　　Actually, Colonel Cathcart did not have a chance in hell of becoming a general. For one thing, there was ex-P.F.C. Wintergreen, who also wanted to be a general and who always distorted, destroyed, rejected ormisdirected any correspondence by, for or about Colonel Cathcart that might do him credit. For another, therealready was a general, General Dreedle who knew that General Peckem was after his job but did not know howto stop him.

　　General Dreedle, the wing commander, was a blunt, chunky, barrel-chested man in his early fifties. His nose wassquat and red, and he had lumpy white, bunched-up eyelids⁹⁷ circling his small gray eyes like haloes of bacon fat.

　　He had a nurse and a son-in law, and he was prone⁹⁸ to long, ponderous⁹⁹ silences when he had not been drinkingtoo much. General Dreedle had wasted too much of his time in the Army doing his job well, and now it was toolate. New power alignments¹⁰⁰ had coalesced¹⁰¹ without him and he was at a loss to cope with them. At unguarded moments his hard and sullen¹⁰² face slipped into a somber¹⁰³, preoccupied¹⁰⁴ look of defeat and frustration¹⁰⁵. GeneralDreedle drank a great deal. His moods were arbitrary and unpredictable. “War is hell,” he declared frequently,drunk or sober, and he really meant it, although that did not prevent him from making a good living out of it orfrom taking his son-in-law into the business with him, even though the two bickered¹⁰⁶ constantly.

　　“That bastard¹⁰⁷,” General Dreedle would complain about his son-in-law with a contemptuous grunt¹⁰⁸ to anyone whohappened to be standing⁹¹ beside him at the curve of the bar of the officers’ club. “Everything he’s got he owes tome. I made him, that lousy son of a bitch! He hasn’t got brains enough to get ahead on his own.”

　　“He thinks he knows everything,” Colonel Moodus would retort in a sulking tone to his own audience at theother end of the bar. “He can’t take criticism and he won’t listen to advice.”

　　“All he can do is give advice,” General Dreedle would observe with a rasping snort. “If it wasn’t for me, he’dstill be a corporal.”

　　General Dreedle was always accompanied by both Colonel Moodus and his nurse, who was as delectable¹⁰⁹ a pieceof ass⁴¹ as anyone who saw her had ever laid eyes on. General Dreedle’s nurse was chubby¹¹⁰, short and blonde. Shehad plump dimpled cheeks, happy blue eyes, and neat curly turned-up hair. She smiled at everyone and neverspoke at all unless she was spoken to. Her bosom¹¹² was lush and her complexion¹¹³ clear. She was irresistible¹¹⁴, andmen edged away from her carefully. She was succulent, sweet, docile¹¹⁵ and dumb, and she drove everyone crazybut General Dreedle.

　　“You should see her naked,” General Dreedle chortled with croupy relish¹¹⁶, while his nurse stood smiling proudlyright at his shoulder. “Back at Wing she’s got a uniform in my room made of purple silk that’s so tight hernipples stand out like bing cherries. Milo got me the fabric¹¹⁷. There isn’t even room enough for panties or abrassière underneath¹¹⁸. I make her wear it some nights when Moodus is around just to drive him crazy.” GeneralDreedle laughed hoarsely¹¹⁹. “You should see what goes on inside that blouse of hers every time she shifts herweight. She drives him out of his mind. The first time I catch him putting a hand on her or any other woman I’llbust the horny bastard right down to private and put him on K.P. for a year.”

　　“He keeps her around just to drive me crazy,” Colonel Moodus accused aggrievedly at the other end of the bar.

　　“Back at Wing she’s got a uniform made out of purple silk that’s so tight her nipples stand out like bing cherries.

　　There isn’t even room for panties or a brassière underneath. You should hear that rustle¹²¹ every time she shifts herweight. The first time I make a pass at her or any other girl he’ll bust¹²⁰ me right down to private and put me onK.P. for a year. She drives me out of my mind.”

　　“He hasn’t gotten laid since we shipped overseas,” confided¹²² General Dreedle, and his square grizzled headbobbed with sadistic¹²³ laughter at the fiendish idea. “That’s one of the reasons I never let him out of my sight, justso he can’t get to a woman. Can you imagine what that poor son of a bitch is going through?”

　　“I haven’t been to bed with a woman since we shipped overseas,” Colonel Moodus whimpered tearfully. “Canyou imagine what I’m going through?”

　　General Dreedle could be as intransigent with anyone else when displeased¹²⁴ as he was with Colonel Moodus. Hehad no taste for sham¹²⁵, tact¹²⁶ or pretension¹²⁷, and his credo as a professional soldier was unified¹²⁸ and concise¹²⁹: hebelieved that the young men who took orders from him should be willing to give up their lives for the ideals,aspirations and idiosyncrasies of the old men he took orders from. The officers and enlisted men in his commandhad identity for him only as military quantities. All he asked was that they do their work; beyond that, they werefree to do whatever they pleased. They were free, as Colonel Cathcart was free, to force their men to fly sixtymissions if they chose, and they were free, as Yossarian had been free, to stand in formation naked if theywanted to, although General Dreedle’s granite¹³⁰ jaw¹³¹ swung open at the sight and he went striding dictatoriallyright down the line to make certain that there really was a man wearing nothing but moccasins waiting atattention in ranks to receive a medal from him. General Dreedle was speechless. Colonel Cathcart began to faintwhen he spied Yossarian, and Colonel Korn stepped up behind him and squeezed his arm in a strong grip. Thesilence was grotesque¹³². A steady warm wind flowed in from the beach, and an old cart filled with dirty strawrumbled into view on the main road, drawn¹³³ by a black donkey and driven by a farmer in a flopping¹³⁴ hat and fadedbrown work clothes who paid no attention to the formal military ceremony taking place in the small field on hisright.

　　At last General Dreedle spoke¹¹¹. “Get back in the car,” he snapped over his shoulder to his nurse, who hadfollowed him down the line. The nurse toddled¹³⁵ away with a smile toward his brown staff car, parked abouttwenty yards away at the edge of the rectangular clearing. General Dreedle waited in austere¹³⁶ silence until the cardoor slammed and then demanded, “Which one is this?”

　　Colonel Moodus checked his roster¹³⁷. “This one is Yossarian, Dad. He gets a Distinguished Flying Cross.”

　　“Well, I’ll be damned,” mumbled¹³⁸ General Dreedle, and his ruddy monolithic¹³⁹ face softened¹⁴⁰ with amusement.

　　“Why aren’t you wearing clothes, Yossarian?”

　　“I don’t want to.”

　　“What do you mean you don’t want to? Why the hell don’t you want to?”

　　“I just don’t want to, sir.”

　　“Why isn’t he wearing clothes?” General Dreedle demanded over his shoulder of Colonel Cathcart.

　　“He’s talking to you,” Colonel Korn whispered over Colonel Cathcart’s shoulder from behind, jabbing his elbowsharply into Colonel Cathcart’s back.

　　“Why isn’t he wearing clothes?” Colonel Cathcart demanded of Colonel Korn with a look of acute pain, tenderlynursing the spot where Colonel Korn had just jabbed him.

　　“Why isn’t he wearing clothes?” Colonel Korn demanded of Captain Piltchard and Captain Wren¹⁴¹.

　　“A man was killed in his plane over Avignon last week and bled all over him,” Captain Wren replied. “He swears he’s never going to wear a uniform again.”

　　“A man was killed in his plane over Avignon last week and bled all over him,” Colonel Korn reported directly toGeneral Dreedle. “His uniform hasn’t come back from the laundry yet.”

　　“Where are his other uniforms?”

　　“They’re in the laundry, too.”

　　“What about his underwear?” General Dreedle demanded.

　　“All his underwear’s in the laundry, too,” answered Colonel Korn.

　　“That sounds like a lot of crap to me,” General Dreedle declared.

　　“It is a lot of crap, sir,” Yossarian said.

　　“Don’t you worry, sir,” Colonel Cathcart promised General Dreedle with a threatening look at Yossarian. “Youhave my personal word for it that this man will be severely¹⁴² punished.”

　　“What the hell do I care if he’s punished or not?” General Dreedle replied with surprise and irritation¹⁴³. “He’s justwon a medal. If he wants to receive it without any clothes on, what the hell business is it of yours?”

　　“Those are my sentiments exactly, sir!” Colonel Cathcart echoed with resounding¹⁴⁴ enthusiasm and mopped hisbrow with a damp white handkerchief. “But would you say that, sir, even in the light of General Peckem’s recentmemorandum on the subject of appropriate military attire¹⁴⁵ in combat areas?”

　　“Peckem?” General Dreedle’s face clouded.

　　“Yes, sir, sir,” said Colonel Cathcart obsequiously¹⁴⁶. “General Peckem even recommends that we send our meninto combat in full-dress uniform so they’ll make a good impression on the enemy when they’re shot down.”

　　“Peckem?” repeated General Dreedle, still squinting¹⁴⁷ with bewilderment. “Just what the hell does Peckem have todo with it?”

　　Colonel Korn jabbed Colonel Cathcart sharply again in the back with his elbow.

　　“Absolutely nothing, sir!” Colonel Cathcart responded sprucely, wincing¹⁴⁸ in extreme pain and gingerly rubbingthe spot where Colonel Korn had just jabbed him again. “And that’s exactly why I decided to take absolutely noaction at all until I first had an opportunity to discuss it with you. Shall we ignore it completely, sir?”

　　General Dreedle ignored him completely, turning away from him in baleful scorn to hand Yossarian his medal inits case.

　　“Get my girl back from the car,” he commanded Colonel Moodus crabbily, and waited in one spot with hisscowling face down until his nurse had rejoined him.

　　“Get word to the office right away to kill that directive I just issued ordering the men to wear neckties on thecombat missions,” Colonel Cathcart whispered to Colonel Korn urgently out of the corner of his mouth.

　　“I told you not to do it,” Colonel Korn snickered. “But you just wouldn’t listen to me.”

　　“Shhhh!” Colonel Cathcart cautioned. “Goddammit, Korn, what did you do to my back?”

　　Colonel Korn snickered again.

　　General Dreedle’s nurse always followed General Dreedle everywhere he went, even into the briefing room justbefore the mission to Avignon, where she stood with her asinine¹⁴⁹ smile at the side of the platform and bloomedlike a fertile oasis¹⁵⁰ at General Dreedle’s shoulder in her pink-and-green uniform. Yossarian looked at her and fellin love, desperately¹⁵¹. His spirits sank, leaving him empty inside and numb⁸⁵. He sat gazing in clammy want at herfull red lips and dimpled cheeks as he listened to Major Danby describe in a monotonous, didactic male dronethe heavy concentrations of flak awaiting them at Avignon, and he moaned in deep despair suddenly at thethought that he might never see again this lovely woman to whom he had never spoken a word and whom henow loved so pathetically. He throbbed¹⁵² and ached with sorrow, fear and desire as he stared at her; she was sobeautiful. He worshiped the ground she stood on. He licked his parched¹⁵³, thirsting lips with a sticky tongue andmoaned in misery¹⁵⁴ again, loudly enough this time to attract the startled, searching glances of the men sittingaround him on the rows of crude wooden benches in their chocolate-colored coveralls and stitched whiteparachute harnesses.

　　Nately turned to him quickly with alarm. “What is it?” he whispered. “What’s the matter?”

　　Yossarian did not hear him. He was sick with lust¹⁵⁵ and mesmerized¹⁵⁶ with regret. General Dreedle’s nurse was onlya little chubby, and his senses were stuffed to congestion¹⁵⁷ with the yellow radiance of her hair and the unfeltpressure of her soft short fingers, with the rounded, untasted wealth of her nubile¹⁵⁸ breasts in her Army-pink shirtthat was opened wide at the throat and with the rolling, ripened¹⁵⁹, triangular¹⁶⁰ confluences¹⁶¹ of her belly¹⁶² and thighs¹⁶³ inher tight, slick forest-green gabardine officer’s pants. He drank her in insatiably from head to painted toenail. Henever wanted to lose her. “Oooooooooooooh,” he moaned again, and this time the whole room rippled¹⁶⁴ at hisquavering, drawn-out cry. A wave of startled uneasiness broke over the officers on the dais, and even MajorDanby, who had begun synchronizing¹⁶⁵ the watches, was distracted momentarily as he counted out the secondsand almost had to begin again. Nately followed Yossarian’s transfixed gaze down the long frame auditoriumuntil he came to General Dreedle’s nurse. He blanched¹⁶⁶ with trepidation¹⁶⁷ when he guessed what was troublingYossarian.

　　“Cut it out, will you?” Nately warned in a fierce whisper.

　　“Ooooooooooooooooooooh,” Yossarian moaned a fourth time, this time loudly enough for everyone to hear him distinctly.

　　“Are you crazy?” Nately hissed¹⁶⁸ vehemently¹⁶⁹. “You’ll get into trouble.”

　　“Ooooooooooooooooooooh,” Dunbar answered Yossarian from the opposite end of the room.

　　Nately recognized Dunbar’s voice. The situation was now out of control, and he turned away with a small moan.

　　“Ooh.”

　　“Ooooooooooooooooooooh,” Dunbar moaned back at him.

　　“Ooooooooooooooooooooh,” Nately moaned out loud in exasperation¹⁷⁰ when he realized that he had just moaned.

　　“Ooooooooooooooooooooh,” Dunbar moaned back at him again.

　　“Ooooooooooooooooooooh,” someone entirely¹⁷¹ new chimed in from another p of the room, and Nately’shair stood on end.

　　Yossarian and Dunbar both replied while Nately cringed and hunted about futilely¹⁷² for some hole in which to hideand take Yossarian with him. A sprinkling of people were smothering¹⁷³ laughter. An elfin impulse possessedNately and he moaned intentionally¹⁷⁴ the next time there was a lull¹⁷⁵. Another new voice answered. The flavor ofdisobedience was titillating¹⁷⁶, and Nately moaned deliberately⁹³ again, the next time he could squeeze one inedgewise. Still another new voice echoed him. The room was boiling irrepressibly into bedlam¹⁷⁷. An eerie¹⁷⁸ hubbubof voices was rising. Feet were scuffled, and things began to drop from people’s fingers—pencils, computers,map cases, clattering¹⁷⁹ steel flak helmets. A number of men who were not moaning were now giggling¹⁸⁰ openly, andthere was no telling how far the unorganized insurrection of moaning might have gone if General Dreedlehimself had not come forward to quell¹⁸¹ it, stepping out determinedly¹⁸² in the center of the platform directly in frontof Major Danby, who, with his earnest, persevering¹⁸³ head down, was still concentrating on his wrist watch andsaying, “...twenty-five seconds... twenty... fifteen...” General Dreedle’s great, red domineering face was gnarledwith perplexity and oaken with awesome¹⁸⁴ resolution.

　　“That will be all, men,” he ordered tersely¹⁸⁵, his eyes glaring with disapproval¹⁸⁶ and his square jaw firm, and that’sall there was. “I run a fighting outfit,” he told them sternly, when the room had grown absolutely quiet and themen on the benches were all cowering¹⁸⁷ sheepishly, “and there’ll be no more moaning in this group as long as I’min command. Is that clear?”

　　It was clear to everybody but Major Danby, who was still concentrating on his wrist watch and counting downthe seconds aloud. “...four... three... two... one... time!” called out Major Danby, and raised his eyes triumphantlyto discover that no one had been listening to him and that he would have to begin all over again. “Ooooh,” hemoaned in frustration.

　　“What was that?” roared General Dreedle incredulously, and whirled around in a murderous rage upon MajorDanby, who staggered back in terrified confusion and began to quail¹⁸⁸ and perspire⁹. “Who is this man?”

　　“M-major Danby, sir,” Colonel Cathcart stammered¹⁸⁹. “My group operations officer.”

　　“Take him out and shoot him,” ordered General Dreedle.

　　“S-sir?”

　　“I said take him out and shoot him. Can’t you hear?”

　　“Yes, sir!” Colonel Cathcart responded smartly, swallowing hard, and turned in a brisk manner to his chauffeurand his meteorologist. “Take Major Danby out and shoot him.”

　　“S-sir?” his chauffeur¹⁹⁰ and his meteorologist stammered.

　　“I said take Major Danby out and shoot him,” Colonel Cathcart snapped. “Can’t you hear?”

　　The two young lieutenants¹⁹¹ nodded lumpishly and gaped¹⁹² at each other in stunned¹⁹³ and flaccid reluctance¹⁹⁴, eachwaiting for the other to initiate¹⁹⁵ the procedure of taking Major Danby outside and shooting him. Neither had evertaken Major Danby outside and shot him before. They inched their way dubiously¹⁹⁶ toward Major Danby fromopposite sides. Major Danby was white with fear. His legs collapsed¹⁹⁷ suddenly and he began to fall, and the twoyoung lieutenants sprang forward and seized him under both arms to save him from slumping¹⁹⁸ to the floor. Nowthat they had Major Danby, the rest seemed easy, but there were no guns. Major Danby began to cry. ColonelCathcart wanted to rush to his side and comfort him, but did not want to look like a sissy in front of GeneralDreedle. He remembered that Appleby and Havermeyer always brought their .45 automatics on the missions, andhe began to scan the rows of men in search of them.

　　As soon as Major Danby began to cry, Colonel Moodus, who had been vacillating wretchedly on the sidelines,could restrain himself no longer and stepped out diffidently toward General Dreedle with a sickly air of self-sacrifice. “I think you’d better wait a minute, Dad,” he suggested hesitantly. “I don’t think you can shoot him.”

　　General Dreedle was infuriated by his intervention¹⁹⁹. “Who the hell says I can’t?” he thundered pugnaciously²⁰⁰ in avoice loud enough to rattle²⁰¹ the whole building. Colonel Moodus, his face flushing with embarrassment²⁰², bentclose to whisper into his ear. “Why the hell can’t I?” General Dreedle bellowed²⁰³. Colonel Moodus whisperedsome more. “You mean I can’t shoot anyone I want to?” General Dreedle demanded with uncompromisingindignation. He pricked²⁰⁴ up his ears with interest as Colonel Moodus continued whispering. “Is that a fact?” heinquired, his rage tamed by curiosity.

　　“Yes, Dad. I’m afraid it is.”

　　“I guess you think you’re pretty goddam smart, don’t you?” General Dreedle lashed²⁰⁵ out at Colonel Moodussuddenly.

　　Colonel Moodus turned crimson²⁰⁶ again. “No, Dad, it isn’t—““All right, let the insubordinate son of a bitch go,” General Dreedle snarled²⁰⁷, turning bitterly away from his sonin-law and barking peevishly²⁰⁸ at Colonel Cathcart’s chauffeur and Colonel Cathcart’s meteorologist. “But get himout of this building and keep him out. And let’s continue this goddam briefing before the war ends. I’ve neverseen so much incompetence²⁰⁹.”

　　Colonel Cathcart nodded lamely²¹⁰ at General Dreedle and signaled his men hurriedly to push Major Danby outsidethe building. As soon as Major Danby had been pushed outside, though, there was no one to continue thebriefing. Everyone gawked at everyone else in oafish²¹¹ surprise. General Dreedle turned purple with rage asnothing happened. Colonel Cathcart had no idea what to do. He was about to begin moaning aloud when ColonelKorn came to the rescue by stepping forward and taking control. Colonel Cathcart sighed with enormous, tearfulrelief, almost overwhelmed with gratitude²¹².

　　“Now, men, we’re going to synchronize²¹³ our watches,” Colonel Korn began promptly²¹⁴ in a sharp, commandingmanner, rolling his eyes flirtatiously in General Dreedle’s direction. “We’re going to synchronize our watchesone time and one time only, and if it doesn’t come off in that one time, General Dreedle and I are going to wantto know why. Is that clear?” He fluttered his eyes toward General Dreedle again to make sure his plug hadregistered. “Now set your watches for nine-eighteen.”

　　Colonel Korn synchronized²¹⁵ their watches without a single hitch²¹⁶ and moved ahead with confidence. He gave themen the colors of the day and reviewed the weather conditions with an agile²¹⁷, flashy versatility²¹⁸, casting sidelong,simpering looks at General Dreedle every few seconds to draw increased encouragement from the excellentimpression he saw he was making. Preening²¹⁹ and pruning²²⁰ himself effulgendy and strutting²²¹ vaingloriously aboutthe platform as he picked up momentum²²², he gave the men the colors of the day again and shifted nimbly into arousing pep talk on the importance of the bridge at Avignon to the war effort and the obligation of each man onthe mission to place love of country above love of life. When his inspiring dissertation²²³ was finished, he gave themen the colors of the day still one more time, stressed the angle of approach and reviewed the weather conditionsagain. Colonel Korn felt himself at the full height of his powers. He belonged in the spotlight.

　　Comprehension dawned slowly on Colonel Cathcart; when it came, he was struck dumb. His face grew longerand longer as he enviously²²⁴ watched Colonel Korn’s treachery continue, and he was almost afraid to listen whenGeneral Dreedle moved up beside him and, in a whisper blustery enough to be heard throughout the room,demanded,“Who is that man?”

　　Colonel Cathcart answered with wan⁵⁴ foreboding, and General Dreedle then cupped his hand over his mouth andwhispered something that made Colonel Cathcart’s face glow with immense joy. Colonel Korn saw and quiveredwith uncontainable rapture²²⁵. Had he just been promoted in the field by General Dreedle to full colonel? He couldnot endure the suspense²²⁶. With a masterful flourish, he brought the briefing to a close and turned expectantly toreceive ardent²²⁷ congratulations from General Dreedle—who was already striding out of the building without aglance backward, trailing his nurse and Colonel Moodus behind him. Colonel Korn was stunned by thisdisappointing sight, but only for an instant. His eyes found Colonel Cathcart, who was still standing erect²²⁸ in a grinning trance, and he rushed over jubilantly and began pulling on his arm.

　　“What’d he say about me?” he demanded excitedly in a fervor²²⁹ of proud and blissful anticipation²³⁰. “What didGeneral Dreedle say?”

　　“He wanted to know who you were.”

　　“I know that. I know that. But what’d he say about me? What’d he say?”

　　“You make him sick.”

 21、德里德尔将军
　　卡思卡特上校不再想有关牧师的任何事情，而是陷入了一个使他不寒而栗的新问题：约塞连！
　　约塞连！只要一提到这个令人讨厌、憎恶的名字就会使他血液冰凉、呼吸困难而直喘粗气。牧师第一次提到约塞连这个名字时就像在他的记忆深处敲响了一面预示不祥之兆的锣。门栓咋咯一声，门关上了，他头脑中所有有关队伍中那个裸露着身体的军官的记忆立刻涌现出来，使他感到羞辱，那些刺痛他的细节像令人痛苦、窒息的潮水一样劈头盖脸朝他袭来。他浑身冒汗、发抖。这个不吉祥的、不大可能的巧合如此狰狞可怖，除了是最骇人听闻的不祥之兆外，实在没有什么别的解释。那天，那个一丝不挂地站在队伍中从德里德尔将军手里接受优异飞行十字勋章的军官也叫——约塞连！现在他刚刚下达命令，要他的飞行大队的官兵飞行六十次，可又有一个叫约塞连的人威胁说要同这道命令过不去。卡思卡特上校满腹忧愁，不知这会不会是同一个约塞连。
　　他带着一副难以忍受的痛苦神情吃力地站起来，开始在办公室里来回走动。他觉得自己的面前是个神秘人物。他闷闷不乐地承认，对他而言，队伍中有个一丝不挂的军官的确是件丢人现眼的事。就像原先制定好的轰炸线在空袭博洛尼亚之前被篡改，还有轰炸弗拉拉的大桥的任务被拖延了七天一样使他丢丑。好在弗拉拉的大桥最后终于被炸毁了，这也算是他的一个荣耀，他想起来心里乐滋滋的。不过，第二次转回去轰炸时损失了一架飞机，这又是桩丢脸的事，想到这他又很泄气；由于一个投弹手胆怯而不得不两次飞抵目标，这给他丢了脸，然而他却请求并获准为那个投弹手颁发了勋章，这又使他感到十分荣耀。他突然想到，那个投弹手的名字也叫约塞连，因此一时惊愕得说不出话来。现在有三个约塞连！他那双淌着粘液的眼睛因吃惊而胀得鼓鼓的，他惊慌失措地赶忙转过身去看看身后在发生什么事情。几分钟前，他的生活中根本没有什么约塞连，而现在他们就像妖精似的越变越多。他努力使自己保持平静。约塞连不过是个普通的名字，也许实际上并没有三个约塞连而只有两个约塞连，甚至可能只有一个约塞连——然而那没有什么区别！上校仍然处于严重的危险之中。直觉警告他，他正接近一个巨大的，不可测知的宇宙顶点。一想到约塞连，不管他最终会是谁，将注定要成为他的克星，他那宽厚、肥胖、高大的身躯从头到脚像筛糠似的颤抖起来。
　　卡思卡特上校并不迷信，但他确实相信预兆，于是他在办公桌后坐了下来，在他的活页记事本上做了个秘密的记号，便立即开始研究有关约塞连的这一整个可疑的事件。他用粗重、果断的笔迹写下了提示，在提示后面醒目地画上一连串密码似的标点符号以示强调，然后在整个内容下面画上两道横线，结果便是如下：
　　约塞连！！！（？）！
　　上校写完后靠向椅背，对自己感到非常满意，因为他刚才采取了迅速的行动来应付这一显露凶兆的危机。约塞连———看见这个名字他就发抖。这个名字里竟有那么多的S字母。它一定具有颠覆性，就像颠覆这个词本身一样。它也像煽动和阴险这两个词，像社会主义者、多疑、法西斯分子和共产主义者这些词。这是一个可僧的、令人厌恶的外国人的名字，一个引不起别人信任的名字。
　　它一点也不像卡思卡特、佩克姆和德里德尔这些干净、利落、诚实的美国名字。
　　卡思卡特上校慢慢地站起来、又开始在办公室里踱起步来。他几乎是无意识地从一筐红色梨形番茄的上面拿起一只，狠狠地咬了一大口。他立刻扭曲了脸，把剩下的番茄扔进了废纸篓。上校并不喜欢吃红色梨形番茄，即使是他自己的也不喜欢，而这些番茄并不是他自己的。这些番茄是科恩中校从遍布皮亚诺萨岛的各个市场上以不同的名义买来的，然后在半夜里把它们搬到上校在山上的农舍里，第二天早晨再运到大队司令部来卖给米洛，由米洛付给卡思卡特上校和科恩中校一些佣金。卡思卡特上校时常怀疑他们这样倒卖番茄是否合法，但科恩中校说这事合法，于是他尽力不常去考虑这件事。他也无法知道他在山上的房子是否合法，因为那也是由科恩中校一手安排的。卡思卡特上校对他是否买下了那房子的产权或者只是租用、是从谁手中买下的、付了多少钱等，一概不知。科恩中校是律师，如果科恩中校跟他说欺骗、敲诈、盗用现金、贪污、偷漏所得税和黑市投机是合法的，卡思卡特上校也只能同意。
　　关于他在山上的那所房子，卡思卡特上校所知道的一切就是他有这么一所房子，而且讨厌它，他每隔一周去那儿呆上两三天。
　　为的是保持一种假象，即他山上的那所潮湿、漏风的石头墙农舍是个寻欢作乐的金碧宫殿，但实际上没有什么比呆在那儿更让他厌烦的了。各地的军官俱乐部里都充斥着模糊不清但熟悉的话语，大家谈论着那些放荡不羁但又见不得人的狂饮乱嫖之事，谈论与那些最漂亮、最惹人、最容易被撩动、也最容易满足的意大利名妓、电影明星、模特儿和伯爵夫人幽会的销魂之夜：但从未有过这样的令人销魂的幽会之夜或见不得人的狂饮乱嫖之事。假如德里德尔将军或佩克姆将军哪怕有一次表示过有兴趣同他一起参加这些狂欢，这些事情也许有可能发生、但他们两人谁也没有表示过。因此，上校当然不会浪费时间与精力去同漂亮女人寻欢作乐，除非那样做对他有什么好处。
　　上校害怕在农场的房子里度过那些阴湿、寂寞的夜晚和沉闷、单调的白昼。他回到飞行大队后有更多的兴趣，可以对所有他不害怕的人吹胡子瞪眼睛。但是，正如科恩中校时常提醒他的那样，假如他从不去住，那么在山上拥有一所农舍就没有多大魅力。他每次开车去他的农舍时都是一副顾影自怜的样子；他在吉普车里带着一支猎枪，用它打鸟，打红色梨形番茄，以此来消磨那单调无聊的时光。那儿确实种了一些红色梨形番茄，一行行歪七扭八的，无人照看，摘起来也太麻烦。
　　对有些下级军官，卡思卡特上校仍然认为有必要表示一点敬意，尽管他不愿意也没有把握是不是非得把——德.科弗利少校包括在内，但他还是把他包括进去了。对他来说，——德.科弗利少校是个极为神秘的人物，就像他本人对梅杰少校和其他所有曾注意过他的人来说也很神秘一样。对于——德.科弗利少校，卡思卡特上校不知道该持什么态度，是尊敬呢还是蔑视。尽管——德.科弗利少校比卡思卡特上校要年长许多，但他只不过是个少校。不过，许许多多其他的人如此尊敬、敬畏甚至害怕——德.科弗利少校，因此卡思卡特上校觉得他们也许都知道些什么事情。——德.科弗利少校是个不吉利的、不可思议的人物，他使卡思卡特上校常常坐立不安，就连科恩中校也得提防他；每个人都害怕他，但谁也不知道为什么。甚至没有一个人知道——德.科弗利少校的教名是什么，因为从来没有人敢冒冒失失地去问他。卡思卡特上校得知——
　　德.科弗利少校外出了，他不在，上校很高兴，可他又想到——德.科弗利少校也许在什么地方阴谋反对他，于是他又希望德.科弗利少校回到他所属的中队，那样他就处于监视之中了。
　　过了一会儿，卡思卡特上校的两只脚由于来回走动过多而疼痛起来。他重又在办公桌后坐下，下决心对整个军事形势作一周密而系统的估计。他摆出一副善于处理事务的人具有的那种做事井然有序的样子，找出一大本白色的拍纸簿，在纸正中划了一道竖线，在靠近竖线的上方划了一道横线，将整页纸分成两个宽度相等的空白栏。他休息了一会儿，对一些关键问题作了考虑。然后他伏在桌子上，用拘谨而过分讲究的笔迹在左边一栏的顶端写上：“耻辱！！！”在右边一栏的顶端写上：“荣誉！！！”他再次靠向椅背，带着赞赏的目光从客观的角度来检查他画的图。在慎重地考虑了几秒钟后，他小心翼翼地舔了舔铅笔尖，在“耻辱！！！”一栏下写了起来，每写完一项都要停下来仔细考虑一下，其内容如下：
　　弗拉拉
　　博洛尼亚（轰炸期间轰炸线在地图上被篡改了）
　　双向飞碟射击场
　　队伍中有个赤裸着身体的军官（轰炸阿维尼翁之后）
　　然后他补充写上：
　　食物中毒（轰炸博洛尼亚期间）
　　再写上：
　　呻吟声（下达轰炸阿维尼翁简令时的流行病）
　　然后又加上：
　　牧师（每晚在军官俱乐部里逗留）
　　尽管他不喜欢牧师，但他还是决定对牧师宽宏大量，于是在“荣誉！！！”一栏下写上：
　　牧师（每晚在军官俱乐部里逗留）
　　这样，关于牧师的两条记录就互相抵消了。在弗拉拉和队伍中有个赤裸着身体的军官（轰炸阿维尼翁之后）这两条旁边，他又写上：
　　约塞连！
　　在博洛尼亚（轰炸期间轰炸线在地图上被篡改了），食物中毒（轰炸博洛尼亚期间）和呻吟声（下达轰炸阿维尼翁简令时的流行病）这三条旁边，他果断地打上了醒目粗大的？
　　那些打上了“？”的条目是他想立刻进行调查的事件，为的是确定约塞连是否参与了这些事件。
　　突然，他写字的手臂开始发抖，无法再写下去。他惊恐地站起来，感到手脚迟钝、极不灵活，于是急忙冲到敞开着的窗户旁，大口地呼吸着新鲜空气。他的目光落在了双向飞碟射击场上。他一阵昏眩，痛苦地尖叫了一声，两只狂乱、通红的眼睛疯狂地在办公室的墙壁上扫来扫去，仿佛墙上挤满了许许多多的约塞连。
　　没有人爱他。虽然佩克姆将军喜欢他，但德里德尔将军恨他。
　　不过，他不能肯定佩克姆将军喜欢他，因为佩克姆将军的副官卡吉尔上校无疑有自己的野心，他可能一有机会就在佩克姆将军面前说他的坏话。他断定，除了他自己之外，唯一的一名好上校是一位死了的上校。在上校中，他唯一信赖的是穆达士上校，但即便穆达士上校也是靠他岳父提携的。虽然他的大队被米洛的飞机轰炸一事也许是他的一个奇耻大辱，但米洛无疑是他的骄做。米洛通过向大家透露部队联营企业同敌军的交易取得了巨额纯利润而最终平息了所有的抗议。而且，他还使所有的人相信，从私营企业的立场出发，轰炸自己的人和飞机的的确确是一个值得称赞并十分有利可图的打击。上校对米洛不十分有把握，因为其他上校正竭力想把他引诱走。此外，那个讨厌的一级准尉大个怀特.哈尔福特还在卡思卡特上校的飞行大队里。据那个又讨厌又懒惰的布莱克上尉说，一级准尉大个怀特.哈尔福特实际上是应对博洛尼亚大围攻期间轰炸线被篡改之事负责的人。卡思卡特上校之所以喜欢一级准尉大个怀待.哈尔福特，是因为每次一级准尉大个怀特.哈尔福特喝醉了酒而且看见穆达士上校也在场，他就不停地对着那个讨厌的穆达士上校的鼻子狠揍。他希望一级准尉大个怀特.哈尔福特也会开始朝科恩中校的胖脸上狠揍。科恩中校是个讨厌的、自作聪明的家伙。第二十六空军司令部里有人对他怀恨在心，把他写的每份报告都签上辱骂、训斥的批示退回来。科恩中校买通了司令部里一个名叫温特格林的精明的邮件管理员，竭力想搞清楚那人是谁。他不得不承认，第二次转回去轰炸弗拉拉时损失了一架飞机对他不会有什么好处，另一架飞机在云层中失踪也同样不会对他有益——
　　这件事他甚至忘了写下来。他带着渴望的神情极力想记起约塞连是否同那架在云层里的飞机一起失踪，但他很快就意识到，如果约塞连还在这儿吵吵闹闹，说只要再飞五次就完成了这些讨厌的飞行任务的话，那他就不可能同那架在云层中的飞机一起失踪。
　　卡思卡特上校理智地想了想，如果约塞连反对飞六十次，那么六十次的飞行任务对那些官兵来说也许是太多了。然而他随后又想到，强迫他的部下去执行比别人更多的飞行任务被认为是他取得的最明显的实绩了。正如科恩中校常常说的那样，战争中只知道执行命令的飞行大队长比比皆是，因此要突出自己独一无二的领导才能，必需采取某种富有戏剧性的姿态，比如要求自己的大队去执行比其他任何轰炸机大队都要多的战斗飞行任务。当然，将军中似乎没有一位反对他的做法，但就他所能察觉到的，他们对此也没有什么特别深的印象，这使他觉得也许六十次战斗飞行任务还远远不够，他应该立即把飞行次数提到七十、八十、一百，甚至二百、三百，或者六千次！
　　毫无疑问，他在像佩克姆将军那样文雅、和蔼的人手下工作要比在像德里德尔将军那样粗鲁、迟钝的人手下工作处境会好得多，因为尽管佩克姆将军从未丝毫表示过他赏识或喜欢他，但佩克姆将军有眼力，有天赋，受过名牌大学的教育，能充分了解他的价值，赏识他的能力。卡思卡特上校敏锐的洞察力足以使他认识到，在像他自己和佩克姆将军这样阅历丰富而又十分自信的人之间从不需要明确地表示对对方的承认，他们生来就互相了解，离得很远就能互相产生好感。他们属于同一类人，这就足够了，他知道提升只是个时机问题，他得小心谨慎地等待。不过他又注意到佩克姆将军从未特别看中他，也从不煞费苦心地给卡思卡特上校留下满腹警句和学识的印象、就像将军对他周围的人，甚至士兵一样。要么是卡思卡特上校的心思没有传到佩克姆将军那儿，要么佩克姆将军就不是那个他假装出来的才智横溢、辨别力强、文质彬彬、具有远见卓识的人；而德里德尔将军倒的的确确是个敏锐、可爱、才华横溢、阅历丰富的人，在他的手下他的处境肯定会好得多：突然，卡思卡特上校对众人是否支持他一无所知，于是他用拳头打起铃来，叫科恩中校速到他的办公室来，向他保证，每一个人都爱他，约塞连只是他在想象中虚构出来的人物，他上校本人在为成为将军而进行的英勇、辉煌的战役中正取得惊人的进展。
　　事实上，卡思卡特上校根本没有机会成为将军。一方面是因为有个叫温特格林的前一等兵，他也想当将军，于是对任何可能给卡思卡特上校带来声誉的信函，无论是卡思卡特上校本人写的，还是别人写给卡思卡特上校的或是有关卡思卡特上校的：他一概加以歪曲、销毁、拒投或者写错投递地址；另一方面是因为已经有了一个将军用，即德里德尔将军，他知道佩克姆将军在觊觎他的位子但又不知道如何阻止他。
　　联队司令德里德尔将军五十岁刚出头，他粗率迟钝、身材矮胖、胸部圆得像水桶似的。他的鼻子又短又阔、红乎乎的，肥胖、苍白、凸起的眼睑像咸肥肉似的一圈圈围着他那对灰色的小眼睛。他有个护士和女婿跟着他。没有喝醉酒时，他习惯于长时间沉默不语。德里德尔将军为把部队的工作搞好浪费了太多的时间，现在已为时太晚了。新的权力联盟已经形成，而祖他排除在外，他简直不知如何去应付。稍不留神，他那张冷峻、阴沉的脸就会因失败和挫折而露出闷闷不乐、心事重重的神色。德里德尔将军以酒浇愁。他的情绪变得反复无常、难以捉摸。“战争就是地狱。”他无论是喝醉了还是清醒时常常这样说，而且他心里也真的是这么想的，然而这并不妨碍他靠战争谋得高官厚禄，也不妨碍他把女婿拉进军队同他在一起，尽管翁婿两人常常争吵。
　　“那个杂种，”无论谁在军官俱乐部里那张曲线形柜台前碰巧站在他旁边，他都会这样轻蔑地咕哝一句，向他抱怨自己的女婿。
　　“他能有这一切全亏了我。他是靠了我发迹的，这个狗娘养的混帐东西！他还嫩着呢，还不能独自混出个样子来。”
　　“他以为他什么都知道。”在柜台的另一头，穆达士上校总会用气愤的语气向他周围的人反驳他的岳父。“他不接受批评，也不愿听别人的忠告。”
　　“他所能做的一切就是给别人提忠告，”德里德尔将军总会粗声粗气地哼着鼻子说，“要不是我，他现在还只是个下士。”
　　德里德尔将军总是由穆达士上校和他的护士两人陪着。那护士可是个美人儿，见过她的人都认为她与人们见过的任何漂亮女人比都毫不逊色。德里德尔将军的护士身材小巧，圆圆的脸上生着一对快乐的蓝眼睛，丰满的双颊上有两个小酒窝，一头金色的卷发下边向上卷起，梳得整整齐齐。她逢人便露出微笑，却从不开口说话，除非有人跟她说话才应酬几句。她胸脯丰满，皮肤雪白。她的媚力是难以抗拒的，男人们总是目不转睛地侧着身子慢慢地从她身旁走开。她丰满娇艳、甜美温顺、沉默寡言，弄得所有的人，除了德里德尔将军之外，都如痴如醉。
　　“你该看看她光着身子是什么样子，”德里德尔将军用沙哑的嗓门津津有味地笑着说，而此时他的护士就站在他的肩旁得意地微笑着。“在联队我的房间里，有她的一件用紫红色丝绸做的制服，那衣服太小，她的两个乳头鼓得老高，像两只大樱桃似的。是米洛给我弄来的衣料。那制服小得里面连短裤和胸罩都不能穿。有几个晚上穆达士在这儿时，我让她穿上那制服，撩得他魂不守舍。”德里德尔将军放开沙哑的嗓子哈哈大笑。“要是你能看见她每次挪动身体时她那件衣裳里面的情景才妙呢。她把他弄得神魂颠倒。只要我抓到他向她或其他别的女人伸一伸手，我就立刻把这个好色的杂种一下子降为列兵，让他当一年炊事兵。”
　　“他让她在我身边转悠，就是想把我撩得魂不守舍，”穆达士上校在柜台的另一头愤愤不平地指责说，“在联队里，她有一件用紫红色丝绸做的制服，那衣服太小，她的两个乳头鼓得老高，像两只大樱桃似的。那制服小得里面连短裤和胸罩都不能穿。要是你能听见她每次挪动身体时那绸衣服发出的沙沙声就好啦。要是我对她或其他别的姑娘有什么非礼的举动，他就会把我一下子降为列兵，让我当一年炊事兵。她撩得我神魂颠倒。”
　　“自从我们到海外以来，他还没有和女人上过床呢。”德里德尔将军吐露了秘密。一想到这个恶毒的主意，他就像个性虐待狂似的大笑起来，他那四四方方、满头灰白头发的脑袋也随着笑声直晃悠。“我之所以不让他呆在我看不见的地方，这就是其中一个原因，这样他就不能去找女人。你能想象出这个可怜的狗娘养的有多难过吗？”
　　“自从我们到海外以来，我还没有和女人上过床呢，”穆达士上校眼泪汪汪地抱怨说，“你能想象出我有多难过吗？”
　　德里德尔将军生气的时候，对任何人都会像对穆达士上校那样寸步不让。他不喜欢装假、圆滑、做作。作为职业军人，他的信条是，始终如一，简单明了。他认为接受他命令的年轻军人应该心甘情愿地为了这位向他们发布命令的老军人的理想、抱负和特有的风格献出自己的生命。对他而言，他手下的军官和士兵都只是军人。他所要求的就是他们做好自己的工作，除此之外，他们可以随心所欲，想干什么就干什么。只要愿意，他们可以像卡思卡特上校那样强迫他们的部下执行六十次飞行任务；只要乐意，他们也可以像约塞连那样一丝不挂地站在队列里，尽管当时一看到这一情景，德里德尔将军那花岗岩似的下巴一下子张了开来。他专横而傲慢地大步沿着队伍走过去，想看清楚队伍中是不是真的有个人浑身一丝不挂，只穿了双皮鞋立正站在那儿，等着他颁发勋章。德里德尔将军一句话也没说。卡思卡特上校发现约塞连时，差点昏过去。
　　科恩中校快步走到他身后，一把抓住他的一只手臂。接着是一阵静得出奇的沉默。温暖的海风不停地从海滨吹来，一头黑毛驴拉着一辆装满了脏草的旧马车在大路上辘辘驶过来，赶车的农夫头戴一顶帽檐低垂的帽子，身穿一套褪了色的棕褐色工作服，他对右边那一小块场地上正在举行的正式军事仪式毫不在意。最后，德里德尔将军说话了。“回到汽车里去，”他转过头对跟在他身后的护士厉声说道。护士带着微笑蹦蹦颠颠地朝将军的那辆深褐色军用汽车走去。汽车停在约二十码之外那块长方形空地的边上。德里德尔将军带着严厉的表情静静地等着，直到他听见车门砰的一声关上后才问道：“这个人叫什么名字？”
　　穆达士上校查看了一下名册。“这个人叫约塞连，爹。他获得了一枚优异飞行十字勋章。”
　　“唉；真该死，”德里德尔将军嘟哝着说，由于觉得有趣，他那血红色的石板似的脸上露出了温和的神色。“你为什么不穿衣服，约塞连？”
　　“我不想穿。”
　　“你说不想穿是什么意思？你究竟为什么不想穿？”
　　“我只是不想穿，长官。”
　　“他为什么不穿衣服？”德里德尔将军回过头来问卡思卡特上校。
　　“他在跟你说话，”科恩中校从后面贴着卡思卡特上校的肩膀小声对他说道，一边用胳膊肘猛地捅了一下他的背。
　　“他为什么不穿衣服？”卡思卡特上校带着极度痛苦的表情问科恩中校，一面轻揉着刚才被科恩中校捅过的地方。
　　“他为什么不穿衣服？”科恩中校问皮尔查德上尉和雷恩上尉。
　　“他的飞机里有个士兵上周在阿维尼翁上空被打死了，溅得他浑身上下都是血，”雷恩上尉回答说，“他发誓再也不穿军装了。”
　　“他的飞机里有个士兵上周在阿维尼翁上空被打死了，溅得他浑身上下都是血，”科恩中校直接向德里德尔将军报告说，“他的制服还在洗衣房里。”
　　“他的其他制服呢？”
　　“也都在洗衣房里。”
　　“他的内衣呢？”德里德尔将军问道。
　　“他的所有内衣也都在洗衣房里，”科恩中校答道。
　　“这些话我听起来好像是一大堆胡说八道