《第二十二条军规》——Catch-22（中英文对照）完结_派派后花园

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[Novel] 《第二十二条军规》——Catch-22（中英文对照）完结

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原名：独爱穿越。
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Chapter 40 Catch-22
    There was, of course, a catch.
　　“Catch-22?” inquired Yossarian.
　　“Of course,” Colonel Korn answered pleasantly, after he had chased the mighty guard of massive M.P.s out withan insouciant flick of his hand and a slightly contemptuous nod—most relaxed, as always, when he could bemost cynical. His rimless square eyeglasses glinted with sly amusement as he gazed at Yossarian. “After all, wecan’t simply send you home for refusing to fly more missions and keep the rest of the men here, can we? Thatwould hardly be fair to them.”
　　“You’re goddam right!” Colonel Cathcart blurted out, lumbering back and forth gracelessly like a winded bull,puffing and pouting angrily. “I’d like to tie him up hand and foot and throw him aboard a plane on everymission. That’s what I’d like to do.”
　　Colonel Korn motioned Colonel Cathcart to be silent and smiled at Yossarian. “You know, you really have beenmaking things terribly difficult for Colonel Cathcart,” he observed with flip good humor, as though the fact didnot displease him at all. “The men are unhappy and morale is beginning to deteriorate. And it’s all your fault.”
　　“It’s your fault,” Yossarian argued, “for raising the number of missions.”
　　“No, it’s your fault for refusing to fly them,” Colonel Korn retorted. “The men were perfectly content to fly asmany missions as we asked as long as they thought they had no alternative. Now you’ve given them hope, andthey’re unhappy. So the blame is all yours.”
　　“Doesn’t he know there’s a war going on?” Colonel Cathcart, still stamping back and forth, demanded moroselywithout looking at Yossarian.
　　“I’m quite sure he does,” Colonel Korn answered. “That’s probably why he refuses to fly them.”
　　“Doesn’t it make any difference to him?”
　　“Will the knowledge that there’s a war going on weaken your decision to refuse to participate in it?” ColonelKorn inquired with sarcastic seriousness, mocking Colonel Cathcart.
　　“No, sir,” Yossarian replied, almost returning Colonel Korn’s smile.
　　“I was afraid of that,” Colonel Korn remarked with an elaborate sigh, locking his fingers together comfortably ontop of his smooth, bald, broad, shiny brown head. “You know, in all fairness, we really haven’t treated you toobadly, have we? We’ve fed you and paid you on time. We gave you a medal and even made you a captain.”
　　“I never should have made him a captain,” Colonel Cathcart exclaimed bitterly. “I should have given him acourt-martial after he loused up that Ferrara mission and went around twice.”
　　“I told you not to promote him,” said Colonel Korn, “but you wouldn’t listen to me.”
　　“No you didn’t. You told me to promote him, didn’t you?”
　　“I told you not to promote him. But you just wouldn’t listen.”
　　“I should have listened.”
　　“You never listen to me,” Colonel Korn persisted with relish. “That’s the reason we’re in this spot.”
　　“All right, gee whiz. Stop rubbing it in, will you?”
　　Colonel Cathcart burrowed his fists down deep inside his pockets and turned away in a slouch. “Instead of picking on me, why don’t you figure out what we’re going to do about him?”
　　“We’re going to send him home, I’m afraid.” Colonel Korn was chuckling triumphantly when he turned awayfrom Colonel Cathcart to face Yossarian. “Yossarian, the war is over for you. We’re going to send you home.
　　You really don’t deserve it, you know, which is one of the reasons I don’t mind doing it. Since there’s nothingelse we can risk doing to you at this time, we’ve decided to return you to the States. We’ve worked out this littledeal to—““What kind of deal?” Yossarian demanded with defiant mistrust.
　　Colonel Korn tossed his head back and laughed. “Oh, a thoroughly despicable deal, make no mistake about that.
　　It’s absolutely revolting. But you’ll accept it quickly enough.”
　　“Don’t be too sure.”
　　“I haven’t the slightest doubt you will, even though it stinks to high heaven. Oh, by the way. You haven’t toldany of the men you’ve refused to fly more missions, have you?”
　　“No, sir,” Yossarian answered promptly.
　　Colonel Korn nodded approvingly. “That’s good. I like the way you lie. You’ll go far in this world if you everacquire some decent ambition.”
　　“Doesn’t he know there’s a war going on?” Colonel Cathcart yelled out suddenly, and blew with vigorousdisbelief into the open end of his cigarette holder.
　　“I’m quite sure he does,” Colonel Korn replied acidly, “since you brought that identical point to his attention justa moment ago.” Colonel Korn frowned wearily for Yossarian’s benefit, his eyes twinkling swarthily with sly anddaring scorn. Gripping the edge of Colonel Cathcart’s desk with both hands, he lifted his flaccid haunches farback on the corner to sit with both short legs dangling freely. His shoes kicked lightly against the yellow oakwood, his sludge-brown socks, garterless, collapsed in sagging circles below ankles that were surprisingly smalland white. “You know, Yossarian,” he mused affably in a manner of casual reflection that seemed both derisiveand sincere, “I really do admire you a bit. You’re an intelligent person of great moral character who has taken avery courageous stand. I’m an intelligent person with no moral character at all, so I’m in an ideal position toappreciate it.”
　　“These are very critical times,” Colonel Cathcart asserted petulantly from a far corner of the office, paying noattention to Colonel Korn.
　　“Very critical times indeed,” Colonel Korn agreed with a placid nod. “We’ve just had a change of commandabove, and we can’t afford a situation that might put us in a bad light with either General Scheisskopf or GeneralPeckem. Isn’t that what you mean, Colonel?”
　　“Hasn’t he got any patriotism?”
　　“Won’t you fight for your country?” Colonel Korn demanded, emulating Colonel Cathcart’s harsh, self-righteoustone. “Won’t you give up your life for Colonel Cathcart and me?”
　　Yossarian tensed with alert astonishment when he heard Colonel Korn’s concluding words. “What’s that?” heexclaimed. “What have you and Colonel Cathcart got to do with my country? You’re not the same.”
　　“How can you separate us?” Colonel Korn inquired with ironical tranquillity.
　　“That’s right,” Colonel Cathcart cried emphatically. “You’re either for us or against us. There’s no two waysabout it.”
　　“I’m afraid he’s got you,” added Colonel Korn. “You’re either for us or against your country. It’s as simple asthat.”
　　“Oh, no, Colonel. I don’t buy that.”
　　Colonel Korn was unrufed. “Neither do I, frankly, but everyone else will. So there you are.”
　　“You’re a disgrace to your uniform!” Colonel Cathcart declared with blustering wrath, whirling to confrontYossarian for the first time. “I’d like to know how you ever got to be a captain, anyway.”
　　“You promoted him,” Colonel Korn reminded sweetly, stifling a snicker. “Don’t you remember?”
　　“Well, I never should have done it.”
　　“I told you not to do it,” Colonel Korn said. “But you just wouldn’t listen to me.”
　　“Gee whiz, will you stop rubbing it in?” Colonel Cathcart cried. He furrowed his brow and glowered at ColonelKorn through eyes narrow with suspicion, his fists clenched on his hips. “Say, whose side are you on, anyway?”
　　“Your side, Colonel. What other side could I be on?”
　　“Then stop picking on me, will you? Get off my back, will you?”
　　“I’m on your side, Colonel. I’m just loaded with patriotism.”
　　“Well, just make sure you don’t forget that.” Colonel Cathcart turned away grudgingly after another moment,incompletely reassured, and began striding the floor, his hands kneading his long cigarette holder. He jerked athumb toward Yossarian. “Let’s settle with him. I know what I’d like to do with him. I’d like to take him outsideand shoot him. That’s what I’d like to do with him. That’s what General Dreedle would do with him.”
　　“But General Dreedle isn’t with us any more,” said Colonel Korn, “so we can’t take him outside and shoot him.”
　　Now that his moment of tension with Colonel Cathcart had passed, Colonel Korn relaxed again and resumedkicking softly against Colonel Cathcart’s desk. He returned to Yossarian. “So we’re going to send you homeinstead. It took a bit of thinking, but we finally worked out this horrible little plan for sending you home withoutcausing too much dissatisfaction among the friends you’ll leave behind. Doesn’t that make you happy?”
　　“What kind of plan? I’m not sure I’m going to like it.”
　　“I know you’re not going to like it.” Colonel Korn laughed, locking his hands contentedly on top of his headagain. “You’re going to loathe it. It really is odious and certainly will offend your conscience. But you’ll agree toit quickly enough. You’ll agree to it because it will send you home safe and sound in two weeks, and becauseyou have no choice. It’s that or a court-martial. Take it or leave it.”
　　Yossarian snorted. “Stop bluffing, Colonel. You can’t court-martial me for desertion in the face of the enemy. Itwould make you look bad and you probably couldn’t get a conviction.”
　　“But we can court-martial you now for desertion from duty, since you went to Rome without a pass. And wecould make it stick. If you think about it a minute, you’ll see that you’d leave us no alternative. We can’t simplylet you keep walking around in open insubordination without punishing you. All the other men would stop flyingmissions, too. No, you have my word for it. We will court-martial you if you turn our deal down, even though itwould raise a lot of questions and be a terrible black eye for Colonel Cathcart.”
　　Colonel Cathcart winced at the words “black eye” and, without any apparent premeditation, hurled his slenderonyx-and-ivory cigarette holder down viciously on the wooden surface on his desk. “Jesus Christ!” he shoutedunexpectedly. “I hate this goddam cigarette holder!” The cigarette holder bounced off the desk to the wall,ricocheted across the window sill to the floor and came to a stop almost where he was standing. Colonel Cathcartstared down at it with an irascible scowl. “I wonder if it’s really doing me any good.”
　　“It’s a feather in your cap with General Peckem, but a black eye for you with General Scheisskopf,” ColonelKorn informed him with a mischievous look of innocence.
　　“Well, which one am I supposed to please?”
　　“Both.”
　　“How can I please them both? They hate each other. How am I ever going to get a feather in my cap fromGeneral Scheisskopf without getting a black eye from General Peckem?”
　　“March.”
　　“Yeah, march. That’s the only way to please him. March. March.” Colonel Cathcart grimaced sullenly. “Somegenerals! They’re a disgrace to their uniforms. If people like those two can make general, I don’t see how I canmiss.”
　　“You’re going to go far.” Colonel Korn assured him with a flat lack of conviction, and turned back chuckling toYossarian, his disdainful merriment increasing at the sight of Yossarian’s unyielding expression of antagonismand distrust. “And there you have the crux of the situation. Colonel Cathcart wants to be a general and I want tobe a colonel, and that’s why we have to send you home.”
　　“Why does he want to be a general?”
　　“Why? For the same reason that I want to be a colonel. What else have we got to do? Everyone teaches us toaspire to higher things. A general is higher than a colonel, and a colonel is higher than a lieutenant colonel. Sowe’re both aspiring. And you know, Yossarian, it’s a lucky thing for you that we are. Your timing on this isabsolutely perfect, but I suppose you took that factor into account in your calculations.”
　　“I haven’t been doing any calculating,” Yossarian retorted.
　　“Yes, I really do enjoy the way you lie,” Colonel Korn answered. “Won’t it make you proud to have yourcommanding officer promoted to general—to know you served in an outfit that averaged more combat missionsper person than any other? Don’t you want to earn more unit citations and more oak leaf clusters for your AirMedal? Where’s your ‘sprit de corps?’ Don’t you want to contribute further to this great record by flying morecombat missions? It’s your last chance to answer yes.”
　　“No.”
　　“In that case, you have us over a barrel—“ said Colonel Korn without rancor.
　　“He ought to be ashamed of himself!”
　　“—and we have to send you home. Just do a few little things for us, and—““What sort of things?” Yossarian interrupted with belligerent misgiving.
　　“Oh, tiny, insignificant things. Really, this is a very generous deal we’re making with you. We will issue ordersreturning you to the States—really, we will—and all you have to do in return is...”
　　“What? What must I do?”
　　Colonel Korn laughed curtly. “Like us.”
　　Yossarian blinked. “Like you?”
　　“Like us.”
　　“Like you?”
　　“That’s right,” said Colonel Korn, nodding, gratified immeasurably by Yossarian’s guileless surprise andbewilderment. “Like us. Join us. Be our pal. Say nice things about us here and back in the States. Become one ofthe boys. Now, that isn’t asking too much, is it?”
　　“You just want me to like you? Is that all?”
　　“That’s all.”
　　“That’s all?”
　　“Just find it in your heart to like us.”
　　Yossarian wanted to laugh confidently when he saw with amazement that Colonel Korn was telling the truth.
　　“That isn’t going to be too easy,” he sneered.
　　“Oh, it will be a lot easier than you think,” Colonel Korn taunted in return, undismayed by Yossarian’s barb.
　　“You’ll be surprised at how easy you’ll find it to like us once you begin.” Colonel Korn hitched up the waist ofhis loose, voluminous trousers. The deep black grooves isolating his square chin from his jowls were bent againin a kind of jeering and reprehensible mirth. “You see, Yossarian, we’re going to put you on easy street. We’regoing to promote you to major and even give you another medal. Captain Flume is already working on glowingpress releases describing your valor over Ferrara, your deep and abiding loyalty to your outfit and yourconsummate dedication to duty. Those phrases are all actual quotations, by the way. We’re going to glorify youand send you home a hero, recalled by the Pentagon for morale and public-relations purposes. You’ll live like amillionaire. Everyone will lionize you. You’ll have parades in your honor and make speeches to raise money forwar bonds. A whole new world of luxury awaits you once you become our pal. Isn’t it lovely?”
　　Yossarian found himself listening intently to the fascinating elucidation of details. “I’m not sure I want to makespeeches.”
　　“Then we’ll forget the speeches. The important thing is what you say to people here.” Colonel Korn leanedforward earnestly, no longer smiling. “We don’t want any of the men in the group to know that we’re sendingyou home as a result of your refusal to fly more missions. And we don’t want General Peckem or GeneralScheisskopf to get wind of any friction between us, either. That’s why we’re going to become such good pals.”
　　“What will I say to the men who asked me why I refused to fly more missions?”
　　“Tell them you had been informed in confidence that you were being returned to the States and that you wereunwilling to risk your life for another mission or two. Just a minor disagreement between pals, that’s all.”
　　“Will they believe it?”
　　“Of course they’ll believe it, once they see what great friends we’ve become and when they see the press releases and read the flattering things you have to say about me and Colonel Cathcart. Don’t worry about the men.
　　They’ll be easy enough to discipline and control when you’ve gone. It’s only while you’re still here that theymay prove troublesome. You know, one good apple can spoil the rest,” Colonel Korn concluded with consciousirony. “You know—this would really be wonderful—you might even serve as an inspiration to them to fly moremissions.”
　　“Suppose I denounce you when I get back to the States?”
　　“After you’ve accepted our medal and promotion and all the fanfare? No one would believe you, the Armywouldn’t let you, and why in the world should you want to? You’re going to be one of the boys, remember?
　　You’ll enjoy a rich, rewarding, luxurious, privileged existence. You’d have to be a fool to throw it all away justfor a moral principle, and you’re not a fool. Is it a deal?”
　　“I don’t know.”
　　“It’s that or a court-martial.”
　　“That’s a pretty scummy trick I’d be playing on the men in the squadron, isn’t it?”
　　“Odious,” Colonel Korn agreed amiably, and waited, watching Yossarian patiently with a glimmer of privatedelight.
　　“But what the hell!” Yossarian exclaimed. “If they don’t want to fly more missions, let them stand up and dosomething about it the way I did. Right?”
　　“Of course,” said Colonel Korn.
　　“There’s no reason I have to risk my life for them, is there?”
　　“Of course not.”
　　Yossarian arrived at his decision with a swift grin. “It’s a deal!” he announced jubilantly.
　　“Great,” said Colonel Korn with somewhat less cordiality than Yossarian had expected, and he slid himself offColonel Cathcart’s desk to stand on the floor. He tugged the folds of cloth of his pants and undershorts free fromhis crotch and gave Yossarian a limp hand to shake. “Welcome aboard.”
　　“Thanks, Colonel. I—““Call me Blackie, John. We’re pals now.”
　　“Sure, Blackie. My friends call me Yo-Yo. Blackie, I—““His friends call him Yo-Yo,” Colonel Korn sang out to Colonel Cathcart. “Why don’t you congratulate Yo-Yoon what a sensible move he’s making?”
　　“That’s a real sensible move you’re making, Yo-Yo,” Colonel Cathcart said, pumping Yossarian’s hand withclumsy zeal.
　　“Thank you, Colonel, I—““Call him Chuck,” said Colonel Korn.
　　“Sure, call me Chuck,” said Colonel Cathcart with a laugh that was hearty and awkward. “We’re all pals now.”
　　“Sure, Chuck.”
　　“Exit smiling,” said Colonel Korn, his hands on both their shoulders as the three of them moved to the door.
　　“Come on over for dinner with us some night, Yo-Yo,” Colonel Cathcart invited hospitably. “How abouttonight? In the group dining room.”
　　“I’d love to, sir.”
　　“Chuck,” Colonel Korn corrected reprovingly.
　　“I’m sorry, Blackie. Chuck. I can’t get used to it.”
　　“That’s all right, pal.”
　　“Sure, pal.”
　　“Thanks, pal.”
　　“Don’t mention it, pal.”
　　“So long, pal.”
　　Yossarian waved goodbye fondly to his new pals and sauntered out onto the balcony corridor, almost burstinginto song the instant he was alone. He was home free: he had pulled it off; his act of rebellion had succeeded; hewas safe, and he had nothing to be ashamed of to anyone. He started toward the staircase with a jaunty andexhilarated air. A private in green fatigues saluted him. Yossarian returned the salute happily, staring at theprivate with curiosity. He looked strangely familiar. When Yossarian returned the salute, the private in greenfatigues turned suddenly into Nately’s whore and lunged at him murderously with a bone-handled kitchen knifethat caught him in the side below his upraised arm. Yossarian sank to the floor with a shriek, shutting his eyes inoverwhelming terror as he saw the girl lift the knife to strike at him again. He was already unconscious when Colonel Korn and Colonel Cathcart dashed out of the office and saved his life by frightening her away.
40、第二十二条军规
　　当然，这里面有个圈套。
　　“第二十二条军规？”约塞连问。
　　“当然。”科恩中校轻轻挥了挥手，又略带轻蔑的神情点了点头，便把那帮押送约塞连的膀大腰圆的宪兵赶了出去，随后，他愉快地回答了约塞连的问话——和往常一样，他最轻松的时候也就是他最刻薄的时候。“毕竟，我们不能因为你拒绝执行更多的飞行任务就把你送回国去，而让其余的人留在这儿，对吧？那样对他们很难说是公平的。”
　　“你说得太正确了！”卡思卡特上校突然说道。他像一头气喘吁吁的公牛那样来来回回定着，生气地板着面孔，不停地喘粗气。“我真想每回执行任务时都把他手脚捆起来扔到机舱里去。这就是我想做的事。”
　　科恩中校示意卡思卡特上校保持沉默，然后又对约塞连笑了笑。“你知道，你把事情弄成这个样子，的确使卡思卡特上校感到十分难办，”他漫不经心他说，好像这件事一点也不惹他生气似的。
　　“官兵们都很不乐意，士气越来越低落。这全都是你的过错。”
　　“这是你们的过错，”约塞连争辩道，“因为你们一再增加飞行任务的次数。”
　　“不，这是你的过铬，因为你拒绝执行飞行任务，”科恩中校反驳道，“以前，当他们觉得自己别无选择的时候，不管我们要求他们执行多少次飞行任务，他们都心甘情愿地执行了。可现在，你使他们有了选择的希望，他们就开始不乐意了。所以，这全都怪你。”
　　“难道他不知道眼下正在进行战争吗？”卡思卡特上校愤愤地质问道。他仍然跺着脚来回地走动着，看也不看约塞连一眼。
　　“我敢肯定他是知道的，”科恩中校回答说，“也许这就是他拒绝执行飞行任务的原因。”
　　“难道那对他有什么影响吗？”
　　“知道现在正在进行战争会动摇你拒绝参战的决定吗？”科恩中校嘲弄地模仿着卡思卡特上校的口吻，严肃而讥讽地问道。
　　“不会的，长官，”约塞连回答道。他差点冲着科恩中校笑起来。
　　“我也担心这个，”科恩中校字斟句酌地说。他悠闲地抬起双手搁到他那光滑闪亮的褐色秃顶上，把十个手指头对插到一起。“你当然明白，公平他讲，我们待你还算不错，对吧？我们供给你吃的，并且按时发给你军饷。我们奖给你一枚勋章，甚至还提拔你当了上尉。”
　　“我根本就不该提拔他当上尉，”卡思卡特上校抱怨地大声说，“那次执行轰炸弗拉拉的任务时，他竟然飞了两圈，结果把事情搞得一团糟。我真应该送他上军事法庭的。”
　　“我告诉过你不要提拔他，”科恩中校说，“可你不肯听我的。”
　　“不，你没说。是你叫我提拔他的，不是吗？”
　　“我告诉你不要提拔他，可你就是不肯听。”
　　“我真应该听你的。”
　　“你从来也不听我的，”科恩中校意味深长地坚持道，“就因为这个，我们才落到这步田地。”
　　“唉，行了，别磨牙了，好吗？”卡思卡特上校把两个拳头深深地插进衣袋里，懒洋洋地转过身去。“别老找我的碴了，你为什么不好好考虑一下我们该拿他怎么办呢？”
　　“恐怕我们只能送他回国了，”科恩中校一边得意洋洋地窃笑道，一边从卡思卡特上校那边转过脸来对着约塞连。“约塞连，对你来说战争已经结束了。我们将要送你回国。你当然知道，你实在是不配被送回国的，可这正是我乐意送你回国的原因之一。既然眼下没有什么别的好办法可供我们一试，我们只好决定把你送回合众国去。我们已经盘算好了这笔交易——”
　　“什么样的交易？”约塞连满腹狐疑，挑衅地质问道。
　　科恩中校仰面大笑。“噢，是一笔不折不扣的卑鄙交易，这一点毫无疑问。绝对令人恶心。不过，你很快就会接受下来的。”
　　“别那么有把握。”
　　“即使这笔交易臭气熏天，你也会接受的，对此我没有丝毫的怀疑。哦，顺便问一句，你还没有告诉任何人你拒绝执行更多的飞行任务，是吗？”
　　“没有，长官，”约塞连毫不迟疑地回答道。
　　科恩中校赞许地点点头。“这很好，我喜欢你这种说谎的方式。
　　如果你有几分雄心壮志的话，你在这个世界上一定会飞黄腾达的。”
　　“难道他不知道眼下正在进行战争吗？”卡思卡特上校突然大叫起来，接着又满脸疑虑地对着烟嘴吹了一口气。
　　“我敢肯定他是知道的，”科恩中校尖刻地回答道，“因为你刚才已经向他提出过这一问题了。”科恩中校不耐烦地皱起眉头帮约塞连讲话，他的黑眼睛里闪烁着狡黠而放肆的嘲弄目光。他用双手抓住卡思卡特上校的桌子边，抬起他那软绵绵的屁股从桌角往里坐去，只剩下两条短短的小腿悬垂着自由摆动。他用鞋跟轻轻踢着黄色的橡木桌子。他的脚上穿着上褐色的袜子，因为没系吊袜带，袜筒一圈一圈直褪落到异常苍白小巧的脚踝下面。“你知道，约塞连，”他和颜悦色地沉思片刻，流露出一种漫不经心的神情，看上去既像是嘲笑又显得非常真诚，“我真的有点佩服你。你是个道德高尚的聪明人，你采取了一种极为勇敢的立场。而我却是个毫无道德观念的人，因此，我正好处在评价你的道德品格的理想位置上。”
　　“现在是关键时刻。”站在办公室一个角落里的卡思卡特上校气呼呼地插话说。他看也没看科恩中校一眼。
　　“的确是关键时刻。”科恩中校心平气和地点点头表示同意。
　　“我们刚刚换了指挥官。要是出现某种局面，使我们在沙伊斯科普夫将军或者佩克姆将军面前出丑的话，那我们可受不了。你是这个意思吧，上校？”
　　“他难道就没有一点爱国精神吗？”
　　“难道你不愿意为你的祖国而战吗？”科恩中校模仿着卡思卡特上校自以为是的刺耳腔调质问道，“难道你不愿意为卡思卡特上校和我而献出你的生命吗？”
　　听到科恩中校这最后一句话，约塞连十分惊讶，不由得紧张起来。“这是什么意思？”他大叫道，“你和卡思卡特上校跟我的祖国有什么关系？你们完全是另一回事。”
　　“你怎么能把我们和祖国分开呢？”科恩中校神色安祥，讥讽地反问道。
　　“对啊，”卡思卡特上校使劲地喊道，“你要么为我们而战，要么对抗你的祖国，这两条路你只能选一条。”
　　“恐怕这下子他把你难住了。”科恩中校加上一句。“你要么为我们而战，要么对抗你的祖国，事情就是这么简单。”
　　“噢，得啦，中校，我可不吃这一套。”
　　科恩中校依然很沉着。“坦率地说，我也不信这一套，可别人都会相信的。你瞧，事情就是这么简单。”
　　“你真给这身军装丢脸！”卡思卡特上校怒气冲冲地喊叫着。他猛地转过身来，头一回正面对着约塞连。“我倒很想知道你究竟是怎么当上上尉的。”
　　“是你提拔他的，”科恩中校强忍住笑，亲切地提醒道。
　　“唉，我真不应该提拔他。”
　　“我告诉过你别这么做，”科恩中校说，“可你就是不肯听我的。”
　　“得啦，你别再跟我磨牙了，行吗？”卡思卡特上校叫了起来。他皱起眉头，怀疑地眯起眼睛盯着科恩中校，把两只握紧的拳头抵在后腰上。“你说，你究竟站在哪一边？”
　　“站在你这一边呀，上校。我还能站在哪一边呢？”
　　“那就别再老是找我的碴了，行吗？别再拿我开心了，行吗？”
　　“我是站在你这一边的，上校。我满怀爱国热情。”
　　“那么，你要保证不忘记这一点。”卡思卡特上校仍然没有完全放下心来。他停了一下才犹犹豫豫地转过身去，双手揉搓着长长的香烟烟嘴，重又开始踱起步来。他用一个大拇指朝约塞连猛地一指，说道：“让我们跟他了结了吧。我知道我应该怎么处置他。我想把他拉到外面去熗毙。我就打算这么处置他。德里德尔将军也准会这么处置他。”
　　“可是德里德尔将军已经不再指挥我们了，”科恩中校说，“所以我们不能把他拉到外面去熗毙。”此时，科恩中校和卡思卡特上校之间的紧张时刻已经过去，他又变得轻松愉快起来，又开始拿脚轻轻踢着卡思卡特上校的桌子。“所以，我们不打算熗毙你而是打算送你回国。这事费了我们不少脑筋，可我们最后还是想出了这个小小的、糟透了的计划。这样一来，你的回国就不会在那些被你撇在身后的朋友当中引起太大的怨言。这难道不使你开心吗？”
　　“这是个什么样的计划？我不能肯定我会喜欢它。”
　　“我知道，你不会喜欢它的。”科恩中校哈哈一笑，重又心满意足地把双手举到头顶，手指对插到一起。“你会憎恨这个计划的。它的确令人作呕，而且肯定会使你良心不安。但是，你很快就会同意这个计划。你会同意的，不但因为这计划会在两周之内把你安全送回国去，而且因为你别无选择。你要么接受这个计划，要么接受军法审判。你可以接受，也可以不接受。”
　　约塞连哼了一声。“别吓唬我了，中校。你们不会用在敌人面前临阵脱逃的罪名对我进行军法审判的。那样一来，你们的面子不好看，而且你们大概也没有办法证明我有罪。”
　　“可是我们可以指控你擅离职守，根据这个罪名对你进行军法审判，因为你没有通行证就跑到罗马去了。我们可以使这一罪名成立。你只要稍微想一想就会明白的，你逼得我们没有别的路可走了。我们不能就这么眼睁睁地看着你违抗命令到处乱跑而不对你加以惩罚。要是那样，其他所有的人也都会拒绝执行飞行任务的。
　　这样是不行的，这一点你相信我的话好啦。你要是拒绝我们提出的这笔交易，我们就要对你进行军法审判，哪怕这样一来会引起许多问题，会叫卡思卡特上校当众出丑，我们也顾不上了。”
　　听到“出丑”这两个字，卡思卡特上校吓得一哆嗦。随后，他似乎想也没想便气势汹汹地把他那个镶有条纹玛瑚和象牙的细长烟嘴往办公桌的木制桌面上猛地一摔。“耶稣基督啊！”他出人意料地叫了一声。“我恨透了这个该死的烟嘴！”烟嘴在桌面上蹦了两下，弹到了墙壁上，接着又飞过窗台，落到地上，最后滚到卡思卡特上校的脚边上不动了。卡思卡特上校恶狠狠地低头怒视着烟嘴说：
　　“我不知道这对我是不是真的有好处。”
　　“这在佩克姆将军看来是你的荣耀，而在沙伊斯科普夫将军看来却是你的丑事，”科恩中校装出一副天真无邪的调皮模样对他说。
　　“那么，我应该讨哪一个人的欢心呢？”
　　“应该同时讨他们两个人的欢心。”
　　“我怎么能够同时讨他们两个人的欢心呢？他们互相憎恨。我要怎么做才能既从沙伊斯科普夫将军那里获取荣耀，又不至于在佩克姆将军面前丢人现眼呢？”
　　“操练。”
　　“对啦，操练。这是唯一能讨他欢心的方法。操练，操练。”卡思卡特上校温怒地做了个鬼脸。“那些将军！他们真给那身军装丢脸。
　　要是像这两个家伙这样的人都能当上将军的话，我看不出为什么我就当不上。”
　　“你会飞黄腾达的，”科恩中校以一种毫无把握的语调安慰他说，说完就转脸对着约塞连格格笑了起来。当约塞连流露出敌视、怀疑的固执表情时，他越发轻蔑地开怀大笑起来。“现在你知道问题的关键了吧。卡思卡特上校想当将军，我想当上校，这就是我们必须送你回国的原因。”
　　“他为什么想当将军呢？”
　　“为什么？这跟我想当上校的原因是一样的。我们还能做什么呢？人人都教导我们要有更高的追求。将军比上校的地位高，上校又比中校的地位高，所以，我们俩都在往上爬。你知道，约塞连，我们的这种追求对你来说是件幸运的事情。你的时机选择得再恰当不过了，可我觉得，你事前策划时就把这一因素考虑进去了。”
　　“我根本没策划什么，”约塞连反驳道。
　　“是的，我的确欣赏你这种说谎的方式，”科恩中校说，“当你的指挥官被提拔为将军——当你知道你所在的部队平均每人完成的战斗飞行任务比任何别的部队都多时——难道你不为此而感到骄傲吗？难道你不愿意获得更多的通令嘉奖和更多的橡叶簇铜质奖章吗？你的集体主义精神哪儿去了？难道你不愿意执行更多的飞行任务以对这一伟大的纪录做出自己的贡献吗？说‘愿意’吧，这是你的最后一次机会了。”
　　“不。”
　　“要是这样的话，你可就逼得我们走投无路了——”科恩中校客客气气地说。
　　“他应该为自己而感到惭愧！”
　　“——我们只好送你回国啦。只是，你要为我们做几件小事情，而且——”
　　“做什么事情？”约塞连以怀疑和敌对的态度打断了他的话。
　　“噢，很小的事情，无关紧要的事情。真的，我们跟你做的这笔交易十分慷慨。我们将发布送你回国的命令——真的，我们会的——而作为报答，你得做的不过是……”
　　“是什么，我得做什么？”
　　科恩中校假惺惺地笑了笑。“喜欢我们。”
　　约塞连惊愕地眨了眨眼睛。“喜欢你们？”
　　“喜欢我们。”
　　“喜欢你们？”
　　“不错，”科恩中校点点头说。约塞连那副不加掩饰的惊奇神态和那种手足无措的样子使他十分得意。“喜欢我们，加入到我们中来，做我们的伙伴。不论是在这里，还是回国以后，都要替我们说好活，成为我们中的一员。怎么样，这个要求不算过分，是吧？”
　　“你们只是要我喜欢你们，就这些吗？”
　　“就这些。”
　　“就这些。”
　　“只要你从心眼里喜欢我们。”
　　约塞连终于明白了，科恩中校讲的是实话，他大为惊奇，真想自信地放声大笑一通。“这并不是太容易，”他冷笑着说。
　　“噢，这比你想象的要容易多了，”科恩中校反唇相讥道。约寒连这句讽刺的话并没有使他灰心丧气。“你只要开了头，准会吃惊地发现喜欢我们是件多么容易的事情。”科恩中校往上扯了扯他那宽松的裤腰。他露出一个讨人嫌的嘲讽笑容，他那方下巴和两颧骨之间的深深的黑色纹路又一次弯曲了起来。“你瞧，约塞连，我们打算让你过舒服日子，我们打算提拔你当少校，我们甚至打算再发给你一枚勋章。弗卢姆上尉正在构思几篇热情洋溢的通讯，打算把你在弗拉拉大桥上空的英勇事迹，你对自己部队的深厚持久的忠诚，以及你格尽职责的崇高献身精神大大描绘一番。顺便说一句，这些都是通讯里的原话。我们打算表彰你，把你作为英雄送回国去。我们就说是五角大楼为了鼓舞士气和协调与公众的关系而把你召回国的。你将像个百万富翁那样生活，你将成为所有人的宠儿。人们将列队欢迎你，你将发表演说号召大家筹款购买战争债券。只要你成为我们的伙伴，一个奢侈豪华的崭新世界就将出现在你的面前。这难道不迷人吗？”
　　约塞连发现自己正聚精会神地倾听着这一番详尽而动听的长篇大论。“我可拿不准我想不想发表演说，”“那么我们就不提演说的事啦。重要的是你对这儿的人讲些什么。”科恩中校收敛笑容，满脸诚恳地往前探了探身体。“我们不想让大队里任何人知道，我们送你回国是因为你拒绝执行更多的飞行任务。我们也不想让佩克姆将军或者沙伊斯科普夫将军听到风声说，我们之间不和，就是为了这个，我们才打算跟你结成好伙伴的。”
　　“要是有人问我为什么拒绝执行更多的飞行任务，我对他们说什么呢？”
　　“告诉他们，有人已经私下向你透露就要送你回国了，所以你不愿意为了一两次飞行任务而去冒生命危险，只不过是好伙伴之间的一个小小分歧，就这么回事。”
　　“他们会相信吗？”
　　“等到他们看到我们成了多么亲密的朋友，读到那些通讯，读到那些你吹捧我和卡思卡特上校的话时，他们自然就会相信了。别为这些人操心。你走了以后，他们是很容易管教和控制的。只有当你仍然呆在这里时，他们才会惹事生非。你知道，一只坏苹果能毁了其它所有苹果。”科恩中校故意用讽刺的口气结束了他的这番话。“你知道——这办法真是太棒了——你也许能成为激励他们执行更多飞行任务的动力呢。”
　　“要是我国国以后谴责你们呢？”
　　“在你接受了我们的勋章、提拔和全部的吹捧之后吗？没有人会相信你的话的，军方不会允许你这样做。再说，你倒是为了什么竟想这样做呢？你将成为我们中的一员，记住了吗？你将过上富裕、豪华的生活，你将得到奖赏和特权。如果你仅仅为了某条道德准则而抛弃这一切的话，那你就是个大傻瓜，可你不是个傻瓜。成交吗？”
　　“我不知道。”
　　“要么接受这笔交易，要么接受军法审判。”
　　“这样一来我就对中队里的弟兄们玩弄了一个极为卑鄙的骗局，不是吗？”
　　“令人作呕的骗局。”科恩中校和蔼可亲地表示同意。他眼中闪烁着暗自高兴的微光，耐心地望着约塞连，等待着他的答复。
　　“见鬼去吧！”约塞连大叫道，“如果他们不想执行更多的飞行任务，那就叫他们像我这样站出来采取行动，对吗？”
　　“当然对，”科恩中校说。
　　“我没有理由为了他们去冒生命危险，对吗？”
　　“当然没有。”
　　约塞连迅速地咧嘴一笑，做出了决定。“成交了！”他喜气洋洋地宣布。
　　“好极了，”科恩中校说。他表现得并没有像约塞连指望的那么热情。他从卡思卡特上校的办公桌上滑下来站到地板上，先扯了扯裤子和衬裤裆部的皱纹，随后才伸出一只软绵绵的手来让约塞连握住。“欢迎你入伙。”
　　“谢谢，中校。我——”
　　“叫我布莱基，约翰。我们现在是伙伴了。”
　　“当然啦，布莱基。我的朋友叫我约•约。布莱基，我——”
　　“他的朋友叫他约•约，”科恩中校大声对卡思卡特上校说，“约•约迈出了多么明智的一步，你为什么不祝贺他呢？”
　　“你迈出的这一步的确非常明智，约•约，”卡思卡特上校边说边笨拙而热情地使劲握住约塞连的手。
　　“谢谢你，上校。我——”
　　“叫他查克，”科恩中校说。
　　“当然啦，叫我查克。”卡思卡特上校热诚而局促地哈哈一笑。
　　“我们现在是伙伴了。”
　　“当然啦，查克。”
　　“笑着出门吧。”科恩中损说着把两只手分别搭在了他们两个人的肩膀上，三个人一起朝门口走去。
　　“哪天晚上过来跟我们一块吃顿饭吧，约•约，”卡思卡特上校殷勤地邀请道，“今天晚上怎么样？就在大队部的餐厅里。”
　　“我非常乐意，长官。”
　　“叫查克，”科恩中校责备地纠正道。
　　“对不起，布莱基。查克。我还没有叫习惯。”
　　“这没关系，伙计。”
　　“当然啦，伙计。”
　　“谢谢，伙计。”
　　“别客气，伙计。”
　　“再见，伙计。”
　　约塞连亲亲热热地挥手向他的新伙伴告别，溜达着朝楼厅走廊走过去。等到剩下他一个人时，他差一点高声唱了起来。他自由了，可以回国了。他达到了目的，他的反抗成功了，他平安无事了。
　　再说，他并没有做任何对不起别人的事情。他逍遥自在、兴高采烈地朝楼梯走去。一个身穿绿色工作制服的士兵朝他行了个礼，约塞连快活地还了一个礼。出于好奇，他看了那个士兵一眼。他感到奇怪，这个士兵看上去十分面熟，就在约塞连还礼时，这个身穿绿色工作制服的士兵突然变成了内特利的妓女。她手里拿着一把骨柄厨刀凶神恶煞般地朝他劈了下来，一刀砍在他扬起的那只胳膊下面的腰上。约塞连尖叫一声，倒在了地上。他看到那女人又举刀朝他砍下来，便惊骇地闭上了很睛，就在这时，科恩中校和卡思卡特上校从办公室里冲了出来，把那个女人吓跑了，这才救了他的命。
　　不过，他已经失去了知觉。

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原名：独爱穿越。
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Chapter 41 Snowden
    “Cut,” said a doctor.
　　“You cut,” said another.
　　“No cuts,” said Yossarian with a thick, unwieldy tongue.
　　“Now look who’s butting in,” complained one of the doctors. “Another county heard from. Are we going tooperate or aren’t we?”
　　“He doesn’t need an operation,” complained the other. “It’s a small wound. All we have to do is stop thebleeding, clean it out and put a few stitches in.”
　　“But I’ve never had a chance to operate before. Which one is the scalpel? Is this one the scalpel?”
　　“No, the other one is the scalpel. Well, go ahead and cut already if you’re going to. Make the incision.”
　　“Like this?”
　　“Not there, you dope!”
　　“No incisions,” Yossarian said, perceiving through the lifting fog of insensibility that the two strangers wereready to begin cutting him.
　　“Another county heard from,” complained the first doctor sarcastically. “Is he going to keep talking that waywhile I operate on him?”
　　“You can’t operate on him until I admit him,” said a clerk.
　　“You can’t admit him until I clear him,” said a fat, gruff colonel with a mustache and an enormous pink face thatpressed down very close to Yossarian and radiated scorching heat like the bottom of a huge frying pan. “Wherewere you born?”
　　The fat, gruff colonel reminded Yossarian of the fat, gruff colonel who had interrogated the chaplain and foundhim guilty. Yossarian stared up at him through a glassy film. The cloying scents of formaldehyde and alcoholsweetened the air.
　　“On a battlefield,” he answered.
　　“No, no. In what state were you born?”
　　“In a state of innocence.”
　　“No, no, you don’t understand.”
　　“Let me handle him,” urged a hatchet-faced man with sunken acrimonious eyes and a thin, malevolent mouth.
　　“Are you a smart aleck or something?” he asked Yossarian.
　　“He’s delirious,” one of the doctors said. “Why don’t you let us take him back inside and treat him?”
　　“Leave him right here if he’s delirious. He might say something incriminating.”
　　“But he’s still bleeding profusely. Can’t you see? He might even die.”
　　“Good for him!”
　　“It would serve the finky bastard right,” said the fat, gruff colonel. “All right, John, let’s speak out. We want toget to the truth.”
　　“Everyone calls me Yo-Yo.”
　　“We want you to co-operate with us, Yo-Yo. We’re your friends and we want you to trust us. We’re here to helpyou. We’re not going to hurt you.”
　　“Let’s jab our thumbs down inside his wound and gouge it,” suggested the hatchet-faced man.
　　Yossarian let his eyes fall closed and hoped they would think he was unconscious.
　　“He’s fainted,” he heard a doctor say. “Can’t we treat him now before it’s too late? He really might die.”
　　“All right, take him. I hope the bastard does die.”
　　“You can’t treat him until I admit him,” the clerk said.
　　Yossarian played dead with his eyes shut while the clerk admitted him by shuffling some papers, and then hewas rolled away slowly into a stuffy, dark room with searing spotlights overhead in which the cloying smell offormaldehyde and sweet alcohol was even stronger. The pleasant, permeating stink was intoxicating. He smelledether too and heard glass tinkling. He listened with secret, egotistical mirth to the husky breathing of the twodoctors. It delighted him that they thought he was unconscious and did not know he was listening. It all seemed very silly to him until one of the doctors said,“Well, do you think we should save his life? They might be sore at us if we do.”
　　“Let’s operate,” said the other doctor. “Let’s cut him open and get to the inside of things once and for all. Hekeeps complaining about his liver. His liver looks pretty small on this X ray.”
　　“That’s his pancreas, you dope. This is his liver.”
　　“No it isn’t. That’s his heart. I’ll bet you a nickel this is his liver. I’m going to operate and find out. Should Iwash my hands first?”
　　“No operations,” Yossarian said, opening his eyes and trying to sit up.
　　“Another county heard from,” scoffed one of the doctors indignantly. “Can’t we make him shut up?”
　　“We could give him a total. The ether’s right here.”
　　“No totals,” said Yossarian.
　　“Another county heard from,” said a doctor.
　　“Let’s give him a total and knock him out. Then we can do what we want with him.”
　　They gave Yossarian total anesthesia and knocked him out. He woke up thirsty in a private room, drowning inether fumes. Colonel Korn was there at his bedside, waiting calmly in a chair in his baggy, wool, olive-drab shirtand trousers. A bland, phlegmatic smile hung on his brown face with its heavy-bearded cheeks, and he wasbuffing the facets of his bald head gently with the palms of both hands. He bent forward chuckling whenYossarian awoke, and assured him in the friendliest tones that the deal they had made was still on if Yossariandidn’t die. Yossarian vomited, and Colonel Korn shot to his feet at the first cough and fled in disgust, so itseemed indeed that there was a silver lining to every cloud, Yossarian reflected, as he drifted back into asuffocating daze. A hand with sharp fingers shook him awake roughly. He turned and opened his eyes and saw astrange man with a mean face who curled his lip at him in a spiteful scowl and bragged,“We’ve got your pal, buddy. We’ve got your pal.”
　　Yossarian turned cold and faint and broke into a sweat.
　　“Who’s my pal?” he asked when he saw the chaplain sitting where Colonel Korn had been sitting.
　　“Maybe I’m your pal,” the chaplain answered.
　　But Yossarian couldn’t hear him and closed his eyes. Someone gave him water to sip and tiptoed away. He slept and woke up feeling great until he turned his head to smile at the chaplain and saw Aarfy there instead.
　　Yossarian moaned instinctively and screwed his face up with excruciating irritability when Aarfy chortled andasked how he was feeling. Aarfy looked puzzled when Yossarian inquired why he was not in jail. Yossarian shuthis eyes to make him go away. When he opened them, Aarfy was gone and the chaplain was there. Yossarianbroke into laughter when he spied the chaplain’s cheerful grin and asked him what in the hell he was so happyabout.
　　“I’m happy about you,” the chaplain replied with excited candor and joy. “I heard at Group that you were veryseriously injured and that you would have to be sent home if you lived. Colonel Korn said your condition wascritical. But I’ve just learned from one of the doctors that your wound is really a very slight one and that you’llprobably be able to leave in a day or two. You’re in no danger. It isn’t bad at all.”
　　Yossarian listened to the chaplain’s news with enormous relief. “That’s good.”
　　“Yes,” said the chaplain, a pink flush of impish pleasure creeping into his cheeks. “Yes, that is good.”
　　Yossarian laughed, recalling his first conversation with the chaplain. “You know, the first time I met you was inthe hospital. And now I’m in the hospital again. Just about the only time I see you lately is in the hospital.
　　Where’ve you been keeping yourself?”
　　The chaplain shrugged. “I’ve been praying a lot,” he confessed. “I try to stay in my tent as much as I can, and Ipray every time Sergeant Whitcomb leaves the area, so that he won’t catch me.”
　　“Does it do any good?”
　　“It takes my mind off my troubles,” the chaplain answered with another shrug. “And it gives me something todo.”
　　“Well that’s good, then, isn’t it?”
　　“Yes,” agreed the chaplain enthusiastically, as though the idea had not occurred to him before. “Yes, I guess thatis good.” He bent forward impulsively with awkward solicitude. “Yossarian, is there anything I can do for youwhile you’re here, anything I can get you?”
　　Yossarian teased him jovially. “Like toys, or candy, or chewing gum?”
　　The chaplain blushed again, grinning self-consciously, and then turned very respectful. “Like books, perhaps, oranything at all. I wish there was something I could do to make you happy. You know, Yossarian, we’re all veryproud of you.”
　　“Proud?”
　　“Yes, of course. For risking your life to stop that Nazi assassin. It was a very noble thing to do.”
　　“What Nazi assassin?”
　　“The one that came here to murder Colonel Cathcart and Colonel Korn. And you saved them. He might havestabbed you to death as you grappled with him on the balcony. It’s a lucky thing you’re alive!”
　　Yossarian snickered sardonically when he understood. “That was no Nazi assassin.”
　　“Certainly it was. Colonel Korn said it was.”
　　“That was Nately’s girl friend. And she was after me, not Colonel Cathcart and Colonel Korn. She’s been tryingto kill me ever since I broke the news to her that Nately was dead.”
　　“But how could that be?” the chaplain protested in livid and resentful confusion. “Colonel Cathcart and ColonelKorn both saw him as he ran away. The official report says you stopped a Nazi assassin from killing them.”
　　“Don’t believe the official report,” Yossarian advised dryly. “It’s part of the deal.”
　　“What deal?”
　　“The deal I made with Colonel Cathcart and Colonel Korn. They’ll let me go home a big hero if I say nice thingsabout them to everybody and never criticize them to anyone for making the rest of the men fly more missions.”
　　The chaplain was appalled and rose halfway out of his chair. He bristled with bellicose dismay. “But that’sterrible! That’s a shameful, scandalous deal, isn’t it?”
　　“Odious,” Yossarian answered, staring up woodenly at the ceiling with just the back of his head resting on thepillow. “I think ‘odious’ is the word we decided on.”
　　“Then how could you agree to it?”
　　“It’s that or a court-martial, Chaplain.”
　　“Oh,” the chaplain exclaimed with a look of stark remorse, the back of his hand covering his mouth. He loweredhimself into his chair uneasily. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
　　“They’d lock me in prison with a bunch of criminals.”
　　“Of course. You must do whatever you think is right, then.” The chaplain nodded to himself as though decidingthe argument and lapsed into embarrassed silence.
　　“Don’t worry,” Yossarian said with a sorrowful laugh after several moments had passed. “I’m not going to doit.”
　　“But you must do it,” the chaplain insisted, bending forward with concern. “Really, you must. I had no right toinfluence you. I really had no right to say anything.”
　　“You didn’t influence me.” Yossarian hauled himself over onto his side and shook his head in solemn mockery.
　　“Christ, Chaplain! Can you imagine that for a sin? Saving Colonel Cathcart’s life! That’s one crime I don’t wanton my record.”
　　The chaplain returned to the subject with caution. “What will you do instead? You can’t let them put you inprison.”
　　“I’ll fly more missions. Or maybe I really will desert and let them catch me. They probably would.”
　　“And they’d put you in prison. You don’t want to go to prison.”
　　“Then I’ll just keep flying missions until the war ends, I guess. Some of us have to survive.”
　　“But you might get killed.”
　　“Then I guess I won’t fly any more missions.”
　　“What will you do?”
　　“I don’t know.”
　　“Will you let them send you home?”
　　“I don’t know. Is it hot out? It’s very warm in here.”
　　“It’s very cold out,” the chaplain said.
　　“You know,” Yossarian remembered, “a very funny thing happened—maybe I dreamed it. I think a strange mancame in here before and told me he’s got my pal. I wonder if I imagined it.”
　　“I don’t think you did,” the chaplain informed him. “You started to tell me about him when I dropped in earlier.”
　　“Then he really did say it. ‘We’ve got your pal, buddy,’ he said. ‘We’ve got your pal.’ He had the mostmalignant manner I ever saw. I wonder who my pal is.”
　　“I like to think that I’m your pal, Yossarian,” the chaplain said with humble sincerity. “And they certainly havegot me. They’ve got my number and they’ve got me under surveillance, and they’ve got me right where theywant me. That’s what they told me at my interrogation.”
　　“No, I don’t think it’s you he meant,” Yossarian decided. “I think it must be someone like Nately or Dunbar.
　　You know, someone who was killed in the war, like Clevinger, Orr, Dobbs, Kid Sampson or McWatt.”
　　Yossarian emitted a startled gasp and shook his head. “I just realized it,” he exclaimed. “They’ve got all my pals,haven’t they? The only ones left are me and Hungry Joe.” He tingled with dread as he saw the chaplain’s face gopale. “Chaplain, what is it?”
　　“Hungry Joe was killed.”
　　“God, no! On a mission?”
　　“He died in his sleep while having a dream. They found a cat on his face.”
　　“Poor bastard,” Yossarian said, and began to cry, hiding his tears in the crook of his shoulder. The chaplain leftwithout saying goodbye. Yossarian ate something and went to sleep. A hand shook him awake in the middle ofthe night. He opened his eyes and saw a thin, mean man in a patient’s bathrobe and pajamas who looked at himwith a nasty smirk and jeered.
　　“We’ve got your pal, buddy. We’ve got your pal.”
　　Yossarian was unnerved. “What the hell are you talking about?” he pleaded in incipient panic.
　　“You’ll find out, buddy. You’ll find out.”
　　Yossarian lunged for his tormentor’s throat with one hand, but the man glided out of reach effortlessly andvanished into the corridor with a malicious laugh. Yossarian lay there trembling with a pounding pulse. He wasbathed in icy sweat. He wondered who his pal was. It was dark in the hospital and perfectly quiet. He had nowatch to tell him the time. He was wide-awake, and he knew he was a prisoner in one of those sleepless,bedridden nights that would take an eternity to dissolve into dawn. A throbbing chill oozed up his legs. He wascold, and he thought of Snowden, who had never been his pal but was a vaguely familiar kid who was badlywounded and freezing to death in the puddle of harsh yellow sunlight splashing into his face through the sidegunport when Yossarian crawled into the rear section of the plane over the bomb bay after Dobbs had beseechedhim on the intercom to help the gunner, please help the gunner. Yossarian’s stomach turned over when his eyesfirst beheld the macabre scene; he was absolutely revolted, and he paused in fright a few moments beforedescending, crouched on his hands and knees in the narrow tunnel over the bomb bay beside the sealedcorrugated carton containing the first-aid kit. Snowden was lying on his back on the floor with his legs stretchedout, still burdened cumbersomely by his flak suit, his flak helmet, his parachute harness and his Mae West. Notfar away on the floor lay the small tail-gunner in a dead faint. The wound Yossarian saw was in the outside ofSnowden’s thigh, as large and deep as a football, it seemed. It was impossible to tell where the shreds of hissaturated coveralls ended and the ragged flesh began.
　　There was no morphine in the first-aid kit, no protection for Snowden against pain but the numbing shock of thegaping wound itself. The twelve syrettes of morphine had been stolen from their case and replaced by a cleanlylettered note that said: “What’s good for M & M Enterprises is good for the country. Milo Minderbinder.”
　　Yossarian swore at Milo and held two aspirins out to ashen lips unable to receive them. But first he hastily drewa tourniquet around Snowden’s thigh because he could not think what else to do in those first tumultuousmoments when his senses were in turmoil, when he knew he must act competently at once and feared he mightgo to pieces completely. Snowden watched him steadily, saying nothing. No artery was spurting, but Yossarianpretended to absorb himself entirely into the fashioning of a tourniquet, because applying a tourniquet wassomething he did know how to do. He worked with simulated skill and composure, feeling Snowden’s lacklustergaze resting upon him. He recovered possession of himself before the tourniquet was finished andloosened it immediately to lessen the danger of gangrene. His mind was clear now, and he knew how to proceed.
　　He rummaged through the first-aid kit for scissors.
　　“I’m cold,” Snowden said softly. “I’m cold.”
　　“You’re going to be all right, kid,” Yossarian reassured him with a grin. “You’re going to be all right.”
　　“I’m cold,” Snowden said again in a frail, childlike voice. “I’m cold.”
　　“There, there,” Yossarian said, because he did not know what else to say. “There, there.”
　　“I’m cold,” Snowden whimpered. “I’m cold.”
　　“There, there. There, there.”
　　Yossarian was frightened and moved more swiftly. He found a pair of scissors at last and began cutting carefullythrough Snowden’s coveralls high up above the wound, just below the groin. He cut through the heavy gabardinecloth all the way around the thigh in a straight line. The tiny tailgunner woke up while Yossarian was cuttingwith the scissors, saw him, and fainted again. Snowden rolled his head to the other side of his neck in order tostare at Yossarian more directly. A dim, sunken light glowed in his weak and listless eyes. Yossarian, puzzled,tried not to look at him. He began cutting downward through the coveralls along the inside seam. The yawningwound—was that a tube of slimy bone he saw running deep inside the gory scarlet flow behind the twitching,startling fibers of weird muscle? --was dripping blood in several trickles, like snow melting on eaves, butviscous and red, already thickening as it dropped. Yossarian kept cutting through the coveralls to the bottom andpeeled open the severed leg of the garment. It fell to the floor with a plop, exposing the hem of khaki undershortsthat were soaking up blotches of blood on one side as though in thirst. Yossarian was stunned at how waxen andghastly Snowden’s bare leg looked, how loathsome, how lifeless and esoteric the downy, fine, curled blond hairson his odd white shin and calf. The wound, he saw now, was not nearly as large as a football, but as long andwide as his hand and too raw and deep to see into clearly. The raw muscles inside twitched like live hamburgermeat. A long sigh of relief escaped slowly through Yossarian’s mouth when he saw that Snowden was not indanger of dying. The blood was already coagulating inside the wound, and it was simply a matter of bandaginghim up and keeping him calm until the plane landed. He removed some packets of sulfanilamide from the first-aid kit. Snowden quivered when Yossarian pressed against him gently to turn him up slightly on his side.
　　“Did I hurt you?”
　　“I’m cold,” Snowden whimpered. “I’m cold.”
　　“There, there,” Yossarian said. “There, there.”
　　“I’m cold. I’m cold.”
　　“There, there. There, there.”
　　“It’s starting to hurt me,” Snowden cried out suddenly with a plaintive, urgent wince.
　　Yossarian scrambled frantically through the first-aid kit in search of morphine again and found only Milo’s noteand a bottle of aspirin. He cursed Milo and held two aspirin tablets out to Snowden. He had no water to offer.
　　Snowden rejected the aspirin with an almost imperceptible shake of his head. His face was pale and pasty.
　　Yossarian removed Snowden’s flak helmet and lowered his head to the floor.
　　“I’m cold,” Snowden moaned with half-closed eyes. “I’m cold.”
　　The edges of his mouth were turning blue. Yossarian was petrified. He wondered whether to pull the rip cord ofSnowden’s parachute and cover him with the nylon folds. It was very warm in the plane. Glancing upunexpectedly, Snowden gave him a wan, co-operative smile and shifted the position of his hips a bit so thatYossarian could begin salting the wound with sulfanilamide. Yossarian worked with renewed confidence andoptimism. The plane bounced hard inside an air pocket, and he remembered with a start that he had left his ownparachute up front in the nose. There was nothing to be done about that. He poured envelope after envelope ofthe white crystalline powder into the bloody oval wound until nothing red could be seen and then drew a deep,apprehensive breath, steeling himself with gritted teeth as he touched his bare hand to the dangling shreds ofdrying flesh to tuck them up inside the wound. Quickly he covered the whole wound with a large cottoncompress and jerked his hand away. He smiled nervously when his brief ordeal had ended. The actual contactwith the dead flesh had not been nearly as repulsive as he had anticipated, and he found an excuse to caress thewound with his fingers again and again to convince himself of his own courage.
　　Next he began binding the compress in place with a roll of gauze. The second time around Snowden’s thigh withthe bandage, he spotted the small hole on the inside through which the piece of flak had entered, a round,crinkled wound the size of a quarter with blue edges and a black core inside where the blood had crusted.
　　Yossarian sprinkled this one with sulfanilamide too and continued unwinding the gauze around Snowden’s leguntil the compress was secure. Then he snipped off the roll with the scissors and slit the end down the center. Hemade the whole thing fast with a tidy square knot. It was a good bandage, he knew, and he sat back on his heelswith pride, wiping the perspiration from his brow, and grinned at Snowden with spontaneous friendliness.
　　“I’m cold,” Snowden moaned. “I’m cold.”
　　“You’re going to be all right, kid,” Yossarian assured him, patting his arm comfortingly. “Everything’s undercontrol.”
　　Snowden shook his head feebly. “I’m cold,” he repeated, with eyes as dull and blind as stone. “I’m cold.”
　　“There, there,” said Yossarian, with growing doubt and trepidation. “There, there. In a little while we’ll be backon the ground and Doc Daneeka will take care of you.”
　　But Snowden kept shaking his head and pointed at last, with just the barest movement of his chin, down towardhis armpit. Yossarian bent forward to peer and saw a strangely colored stain seeping through the coveralls justabove the armhole of Snowden’s flak suit. Yossarian felt his heart stop, then pound so violently he found itdifficult to breathe. Snowden was wounded inside his flak suit. Yossarian ripped open the snaps of Snowden’sflak suit and heard himself scream wildly as Snowden’s insides slithered down to the floor in a soggy pile andjust kept dripping out. A chunk of flak more than three inches big had shot into his other side just underneath thearm and blasted all the way through, drawing whole mottled quarts of Snowden along with it through thegigantic hole in his ribs it made as it blasted out. Yossarian screamed a second time and squeezed both handsover his eyes. His teeth were chattering in horror. He forced himself to look again. Here was God’s plenty, allright, he thought bitterly as he stared—liver, lungs, kidneys, ribs, stomach and bits of the stewed tomatoesSnowden had eaten that day for lunch. Yossarian hated stewed tomatoes and turned away dizzily and began tovomit, clutching his burning throat. The tail gunner woke up while Yossarian was vomiting, saw him, and faintedagain. Yossarian was limp with exhaustion, pain and despair when he finished. He turned back weakly toSnowden, whose breath had grown softer and more rapid, and whose face had grown paler. He wondered how inthe world to begin to save him.
　　“I’m cold,” Snowden whimpered. “I’m cold.”
　　“There, there,” Yossarian mumbled mechanically in a voice too low to be heard. “There, there.”
　　Yossarian was cold, too, and shivering uncontrollably. He felt goose pimples clacking all over him as he gazeddown despondently at the grim secret Snowden had spilled all over the messy floor. It was easy to read themessage in his entrails. Man was matter, that was Snowden’s secret. Drop him out a window and he’ll fall. Setfire to him and he’ll burn. Bury him and he’ll rot, like other kinds of garbage. The spirit gone, man is garbage.
　　That was Snowden’s secret. Ripeness was all.
　　“I’m cold,” Snowden said. “I’m cold.”
　　“There, there,” said Yossarian. “There, there.” He pulled the rip cord of Snowden’s parachute and covered hisbody with the white nylon sheets.
　　“I’m cold.”
　　“There, there.”
41、斯诺登
　　“切开，”一个医生说。
　　“你切开吧，”另一个说。
　　“别切开，”约塞连舌头僵硬、口齿不清地说。
　　“这是谁在乱插嘴，”一个医生抱怨道，“这儿没你说话的地方。
　　我们是动手术还是不动手术？”
　　“他不需要动手术，”另一个医生抱怨他说，“这不过是个小伤口，我们只要止住血，清洗一下伤口，再缝几针就行了。”
　　“可我还从来没有过动手术的机会呢。哪一把是手术刀？这一把是手术刀吗？”
　　“不，那一把才是手术刀。好吧，要是你想动手术，就下手吧。切开吧。”
　　“就这样切开吗？”
　　“不是切开那儿，你这个笨蛋！”
　　“不要切开。”约塞连昏昏沉沉地感觉到有两个陌生人要把自己切开，急忙喊叫起来。
　　“这儿没你说话的地方，”头一个医生挖苦地抱怨道，“我们给他动手术时，他要一直这么不停地唠叨下去吗？”
　　“你们得等我收他住院后才器给他动手术，”一个职员说。
　　“你得等我把他审查清楚了才能收他住院，”一个口气生硬的胖上校说。他留着小胡了，长着一张红润的硕大脸盘。这张脸几乎快要贴到约塞连的脸上了，就像一只大煎锅的平锅底似的，散发着烤人的热气。“你出生在什么地方？”
　　见到这个口气生硬的胖上校，约塞连联想起那个审问牧师并裁决他有罪的口气生硬的胖上校。他瞪大眼睛，透过眼前的一层簿雾，盯着胖上校。空气中弥漫着甲醛和乙醇的清香气味。
　　“我出生在战场上，”他回答说。
　　“不，不，你出生在哪一个州？”
　　“我出生在清白无辜的情况下。”
　　“不，不，你没听明白。”
　　“让我来对付他吧，”另一个人急不可耐他说。这个人瘦长脸，深眼窝，薄嘴唇，显得刻薄歹毒。“你大概是个机灵鬼吧？”他问约塞连。
　　“他已经精神错乱了，”其中一个医生说，“你们为什么不让我们把他带回到里面去治疗呢？”
　　“如果他精神错乱，就让他这么呆在这儿吧。他或许会说出什么能证明他有罪的话来呢。”
　　“可他仍在流血不止，你难道看不见吗？他甚至会死掉的。”
　　“那对他才好呢！”
　　“那是这个下流杂种应得的报应，”口气生硬的胖上校说，“好吧，约翰，全都交待出来吧。我们要知道事实。”
　　“大家都叫我约•约。”
　　“我们要求你和我们合作，约•约。我们是你的朋友，你要信任我们。我们是到这儿来帮助你的。我们不会伤害你。”
　　“我们把大拇指伸到他的伤口里戳几下，挖出点肉来，”那个瘦长脸的家伙提议道。
　　约塞连闭上眼睛，好让他们以为他失去知觉了。
　　“他昏过去了，”他听见一个医生说，“能不能让我们先给他治疗，要不然就太晚了。他也许会死的。”
　　“好吧，带他进去吧。我真希望这杂种死掉。”
　　“你得等我收他住院后才能给他治疗，”那职员说。
　　当那个职员翻弄着一张张表格给他办住院手续时，约塞连闭上眼睛假装昏死了过去。随后，他被慢慢推到一间又闷又黑的房间里。房间的上空悬挂着许多灼热的聚光灯，在这里，清香的甲醛和乙醇味更加浓重了，沁人心脾的香气熏得人昏昏沉沉的。他还闻到了乙醚的气味，听到玻璃器皿的了当响声。他听见两个医生的沙哑呼吸声，心中一阵窃喜。叫他高兴的是，他们以为他失去了知觉，根本不知道他在偷听。在他听来，他们的那些对话全都无聊透顶，直到后来一个医生说：
　　“喂，你认为我们应该救活他吗？我们要是救了他，他们也许会对我们怀恨在心的。”
　　“我们动手术吧，”另一个医生说，“我们把他切开，看看里面究竟是怎么回事。他一直抱怨说，他的肝有毛病，可在这张调光照片上，他的肝看上去挺好的。”
　　“那是他的胰腺，你这笨蛋，这儿才是他的肝呢。”
　　“不，这不是，这是他的心脏。我敢拿一个五分硬币跟你打赌，这才是他的肝。我要开刀把它找出来，我应该先洗手吗？”
　　“别动手术，”约塞连说、他睁开眼睛，挣扎着要坐起来。
　　“这儿没你说话的地方，”其中一个医生愤愤地训斥道，“难道我们就不能叫他住嘴吗？”
　　“我们可以给他来个全身麻醉。乙醚就在这里。”
　　“不要全身麻醉。”约塞连说。
　　“我们给他来个全身麻醉，叫他昏睡过去，那样我们想把他怎么样就怎么样。”
　　“他们给约塞连做了全身麻醉，使他昏睡过去。他醒来时发现自己躺在一个弥漫着乙醚气味的僻静房间里、直觉得口干舌燥；科恩中校坐在他床边的一张椅子上，正安安静静地等着约塞连醒来呢。
　　他穿着宽松肥大的橄榄绿衬衣和裤子，胡须密匝匝的棕色脸庞上挂着人丝和蔼而淡漠的微笑：他正用双手轻轻抚摸着自己的秃脑门呢。约塞连一醒过来，他便俯下身格格笑着，语气极为友好地向约塞连保证说，只要约塞连不死，他们之间的那笔交易就仍然有效。约塞连哇的一声呕吐起来。科恩中校一听到声音马上跳起身，厌恶地逃了出去。约塞连心想，乌云之中总还是有一线光明的。随后，他觉得透不过气来，便又昏昏沉沉地睡过去了，一只长着尖指甲的手粗暴地把他摇醒了。他翻过身，睁开眼睛，看见一个面容猥琐的陌生人轻蔑地撇着嘴，不怀好意地瞪着他。那人得意地说：
　　“我们抓到你的伙伴了，老弟。我们抓到你的伙伴了。”
　　约塞连顿时浑身冰凉，一阵晕眩。他出了一身冷汗。
　　“谁是我的伙伴？”当他看到牧师坐在刚才科恩中校坐的地方时，他问道。
　　“也许我是你的伙伴，”牧师回答道。
　　但是，约塞连没能听见他的话。他又闭上了眼睛。有人拿过水来喂他喝了几口，又踮着脚尖走开了。他睡了一阵，醒来时觉得情绪很好，便转过头去想对牧师笑笑，却发现换了阿费坐在那里。约塞连不由自主地叹了口气。阿费哈哈大笑，问他眼下感觉如何。约塞连异常烦恼地沉下脸，反问阿费为什么不在监狱里呆着，一下子把阿费给问糊涂了，约塞连闭上眼睛，想赶阿费走，等到他再睁开眼睛时，阿费已经走了，牧师又坐在那里了。他一眼瞥见牧师兴高采烈的笑模样，不由哈哈大笑起来，一边笑一边问牧师到底为了什么这么高兴。
　　“我为你高兴呀，”牧师激动、快活而又坦率地回答道。“我在大队部里听说你受了重伤，如果你活下来的话，就送你回国。”科恩中校说，你的情况很危险。可我刚刚从一位医生那儿得知、你受的伤非常非常轻，过一两天你大概就可以出院了。你一点危险都没有，情况好得很。”
　　听了牧师带来的这个消息，约塞连大大地松了一口气。“这好极了。”
　　“是啊，”牧师说。两片绊红悄悄爬上他的面颊，使他看上去显得既顽皮又快乐。“是啊；这好极了。”
　　约塞连回想起自己第一次与牧师谈话的情景，不由哈哈大笑起来。“瞧，我第一次遇见你是在医院里，现在我又在医院里了。最近一次我见到你也是在医院里。你这一向呆在哪儿？”
　　牧师耸了耸肩。“我一直在祷告，”他坦白道，“我尽可能呆在自己的帐篷里。每一回惠特科姆中士离开这个地区时我都要祷告，这样他就不会抓住我了。”
　　“这样做有用处吗？”
　　“这样做可以减轻我的烦恼，”牧师又耸了耸肩回答道，“再说，这样的话，我也有事可干了。”
　　“噢，这很不错，不是吗？”
　　“是呀，”牧师热烈地赞同道，好像他原先从来没有想到过这一点，“是呀，依我看，这确实不错。”他兴奋地俯下身来，显得既尴尬又焦虑。“约塞连，在你住院期间，有没有什么我可以帮忙的地方，需要我为你带些什么东西来吗？”
　　约塞连快活地取笑他说：“像玩具、糖果或者口香糖之类吗？”
　　牧师的脸又红了。他不自然地咧嘴笑笑，然后又变得恭恭敬敬的。“像书籍啦，也许别的什么东西。我希望我能做点什么让你高兴的事。你知道，约塞连，我们大伙都很为你感到骄傲。”
　　“骄傲？”
　　“是啊，当然啦。是你冒着生命危险拦住了那个纳粹刺客。这是非常崇高的行为。”
　　“什么纳粹刺客？”
　　“就是那个来这儿暗杀卡思卡特上校和科恩中校的家伙呀。是你救了他们的命。你在楼厅上跟他扭打成一团时，他差一点把你刺死。你能活下来真是命大。”
　　约塞连弄明白是怎么回事后，不由得冷笑起来。”那人根本不是什么纳粹刺客。”
　　“没错，是的。科恩中校说他是的。”
　　“那人是内特利的女朋友。她是来找我的，不是来找卡思卡特上校和科恩中校的。自从我把内特利的死告诉她以后，她就一直想杀我。”
　　“可这怎么可能呢？”牧师脸色发青地愤然反驳道。他给弄得有点糊涂了。“他逃走时，卡思卡特上校和科恩中校两个人全都看见了。官方的报告说，你拦住了一个前来暗杀他们的纳粹刺客。”
　　“别相信官方的报告。”约塞连冷冰冰地提醒他。“那是这笔交易的一部分。”
　　“什么交易？”
　　“是我跟卡思卡特上校和科恩中校做的一笔交易。如果我见人就讲他们的好话，并且永远不在任何人面前批评他们叫其余的官兵执行更多的飞行任务的话，他们就把我当做一个大英雄送回国去。”
　　牧师大吃一惊，差点从椅子上跳起来。他既恼怒又沮丧，摆出一副好斗的架势嚷嚷起来。“但这太可怕了！这是一笔见不得人的丑恶交易，难道不是吗？”
　　“令人作呕，”约塞连回答说。他把后脑勺靠在枕头上，毫无表情地盯着天花板。“我想，我们都同意用‘令人作呕’这个字眼来形容它。”
　　“那你干吗要同意这笔交易呢？”
　　“要么接受这笔交易，要么接受军法审判。”
　　“噢，”牧师露出一副懊悔不已的神情，用手捂着嘴叫道。他局促不安地欠身坐回到椅子上。“我真不应该说刚才那番活的。”
　　“他们会把我关到监狱里，让我和一帮罪犯呆在一起。”
　　“当然啦。凡是你认为正确的，你就应当做。”牧师点点头，好像就此了结了这场争论，随即便陷入了窘迫的沉默之中。
　　“别担心，”过了几分钟，约塞连凄惨地笑了笑说，“我并不打算这么做。”
　　“但你必须这么做，”牧师关心地俯下身来坚持道，“真的，你必须这么做。我没有权利影响你。我真的没有权利说三道四。”
　　“你没有影响我。”约塞连吃力地翻过去侧身躺着，既庄重又嘲讽地摇了摇头。“耶稣啊，牧师！你难道不认为那是一种罪孽吗？救了卡思卡特上校的命！我决不允许在自己的档案里出现这桩罪行。”
　　牧师小心翼翼地回到原先的话题上；“那你将怎么办呢？你不能让他们把你关进监狱。”
　　“我要执行更多的飞行任务。要么，我也许真的会临阵脱逃，让他们抓住我。他们大概会的。”
　　“那样他们就会把你关进监狱。你不想进监狱吧。”
　　“那么，我想我只好继续执行飞行任务，直到战争结束。我们中总有些人会活下来的。”
　　“可你也许会送命的。”
　　“那么，我想我还是不执行飞行任务吧。”
　　“那你将怎么办呢？”
　　“我不知道。”
　　“你会让他们送你回国吗？”
　　“我不知道。外面热吗？这儿倒是很暖和的。”
　　“外面很冷，”牧师说。
　　“你知道，”约塞连回忆说，发生了一件希奇古怪的事——也许是我做梦吧。我觉得刚才来过一个陌生人，他告诉我他抓住了我的伙伴。不知道这是不是我想象出来的。”
　　“依我看，这不是你想象出来的，”牧师对他说，“我上一次来的时候，你就把这件事讲给我听了。”
　　“那么，那个人真的说过这话了。‘我们抓到你的伙伴了，老弟，’他说，‘我们抓到你的伙伴了。’我以前还从来没有见到过像他那么凶恶的样子。我很想知道谁是我的伙伴。”
　　“我倒认为我是你的伙伴，约塞连，”牧师既谦卑又诚恳地说，“他们肯定是抓住我了。他们记下了我的号码，一直在监视着我。他们要叫我到哪儿去，我立刻就得到哪儿去。他们审问我的时候就是这么说的。”
　　“不，我不认为他们指的是你，”约塞连肯定地说，“我认为他们准是指内特利或者邓巴这一类的人。你知道，是指某一个在这场战争中送命的人，像克莱文杰、奥尔、多布斯、基德•桑普森或者麦克沃特。”约塞连突然吃惊地长叹一声，摇了摇脑袋。“我这才明白，”他叫道，“他们抓走了我所有的伙伴，不是吗？剩下的只有我和亨格利•乔了。”当他看见牧师的脸色变得煞白时，他不由得惊慌起来。
　　“牧师，出了什么事？”
　　“亨格利•乔死了。”
　　“上帝啊，不！是执行任务时死的吗？”
　　“他是睡觉时做梦死去的，他们看见一只猫趴在他的脸上。
　　“可怜的家伙。”约塞连说着便哭了起来，他把脸伏在臂膀里，不想让人看见他的眼泪。牧师没说再见就走了。约塞连吃了点东西后睡着了。半夜里，一只手把他摇醒过来、他睁开眼睛，看见一个面容猥琐的瘦子。那人穿着病员的浴衣和睡衣裤，一边狞笑着，一边嘲弄地对他说。
　　“我们抓到你的伙伴了，老弟。我们抓到你的伙伴了。”
　　约塞连心烦意乱起来、“你***到底在说些什么？”他略显恐慌地追问道。
　　“你会发现的，老弟，你会发现的。”
　　约塞连伸出一只手去掐那个折磨自己的人的脖子，可那人毫不费劲地避开了他的手，怪笑一声逃到走廊里不见了。约塞连躺在床上一个劲地哆嗦，脉搏直跳个不停，他出了一身的冷汗。他很想知道谁是他的伙伴。医院笼罩在黑暗之中，一片寂静。他没戴手表，不知道几点了。他已经完全清醒了。他知道，自己是个整夜卧床不起却又无法入睡的囚徒，在永无尽头的黑夜里企盼着黎明的到来。
　　阵阵寒气从他的双腿直往上逼来，他想起了斯诺登。斯诺登从来都不是他的伙伴，只不过是个他稍微有点熟悉的小伙子罢了。那一回，多布斯在内部对讲机里向约塞连呼叫，救救轰炸手、救救轰炸手。约塞连从炸弹舱的舱顶上爬过去，爬到机尾舱里，看见斯诺登受了重伤，眼看就要冻死了。一圈刺眼的金色阳光透过侧炮眼照射到他躺着的地方，在他的脸上跳动着。约塞连第一眼看见那种令人毛骨悚然的情景时，胃里就立刻翻腾起来了，他觉得恶心。他心惊胆战地愣了几分钟才往下爬，匍匐着穿过炸弹舱顶上的狭窄通道，从装着急救药箱的密封皱纹纸板箱旁边爬过去。斯诺登双腿叉开仰面躺在舱板上，身上仍然裹着笨重的防弹衣、防弹钢盔、降落伞背带和飞行救生衣。离他不远处躺着那个不省人事的小个子尾舱机熗手。约塞连看见斯诺登的大腿外侧有一个伤口，看上去足有一只橄榄球那么大，那么深。鲜血浸透了他的工作服，根本分不清楚哪些是碎布条，哪些是烂糊糊的血肉。
　　急救药箱里没有吗啡，也没有别的可以帮斯诺登止痛的药品。
　　约塞连只好眼睁睁地、心惊胆战地盯着那个裂开了的伤口。药箱里的十二支吗啡针全被人偷走了。在原来放针的地方有一张字迹工整的纸条，上面写着：“有益于M&M辛迪加联合体就是有益于国家。米洛•明德宾德”。约塞连一边诅咒米洛，一边拿起两片阿司匹林硬往斯诺登那两片毫无反应的苍白嘴唇里塞。不过，他先是匆匆忙忙地抓起一条止血带绑住斯诺登的大腿，因为在最初几分钟的慌乱之中，他的脑子里一片混乱，只知道自己必须采取适当的措施，却一时想不出具体应该做些什么。他真怕自己会完全垮掉。斯诺登一声不吭，静静地看着他。并没有动脉出血的迹象，可约塞连却装出一副全神贯注绑扎止血带的模样，因为他根本不懂得如何使用止血带。他假装成熟练和内行的样子摆弄着止血带，他能够感觉出斯诺登那暗淡无光的眼睛正盯着自己。止血带还没绑扎好，他就恢复了镇定。他立即把止血带松开，以防产生坏疽。此时，他的头脑已经清楚，他知道该怎么办了。他在急救药箱里翻来翻去，想找一把剪刀。
　　“我冷，”斯诺登轻声说，“我冷。”
　　“你很快就没事了，小伙子，”约塞连笑着安慰他说，“你很快就没事了。”
　　“我冷，”斯诺登又虚弱无力他说，他的嗓音听起来像个天真的孩子。“我冷。”
　　“好啦，好啦。”约塞连不知道再说什么好，只得这样答应着。
　　“好啦，好啦。”
　　“我冷。”斯诺登鸣咽着。“我冷。”
　　“好啦，好啦，好啦，好啦。”
　　约塞连害怕起来，动作也加快了。终于，他找到了一把剪刀。他小心翼翼地把斯诺登的工作服从伤口处往上剪开，一直剪到他的大腿根。随后，他又绕着他的大腿笔直地剪了一圈，把那件厚厚的华达呢工作服一截为二。他正剪着，那个小个子尾舱机熗手醒了过来，看了看他，便又昏过去了。斯诺登把头扭到另一边，以便更加直接地盯着约塞连。他那疲倦、无精打采的眼睛里闪动着一丝暗淡的光。约塞连心里有点发虚，竭力不去看他。他又顺着工作服的内侧接缝往下剪。从那个裂开的伤口里——那些疹人的肌肉组织仍在抽搐着、跳动着——殷红的鲜血不停地往外涌。透过这些，他看到的是不是一根粘糊糊的骨管呢，——鲜血就像房檐上融化的雪水那样分成许多细流往外流淌，不过，他的血又粘又红，一流出来就凝固住了。约塞连沿着工作服的裤管一直剪到底，又动手把剪断下来的裤管从斯诺登的腿上褪下来。裤管扑的一声落在地上，里面的卡其布短衬裤的底边露了出来，其中一侧浸透了血污，好像要用鲜血解渴似的。约塞连吃惊地看见，斯诺登赤裸的大腿是那样光滑而苍白，而他那白得出奇的小腿则毛茸茸地长满细细的、卷曲的淡黄汗毛，看上去令人厌恶又毫无生气，显得很特别。这时他看清了，这个伤口并没有橄榄球那么大，但却有他的手掌那么长、那么宽，而且非常深，里面血肉模糊，只能看见血淋淋的肌肉不停地抽搐着，就像新鲜的碎牛肉。约塞连看出斯诺登没有生命危险，长长地舒了一口气，放下心来。伤口内的鲜血已经开始凝固了。在飞机降落之前，只要给他包扎一下，使他保持镇静就可以了。约塞连从急救药箱里拿出几包磺砖药粉来。当他轻轻地推着斯诺登，想叫他稍微侧一侧身子时，斯诺登哆嗦起来。
　　“我弄痛你了吗？”
　　“我冷。”斯诺登呜咽着。“我冷。”
　　“好啦，好啦，”约塞连说，“好啦，好啦。”
　　“我冷，我冷。”
　　“好啦，好啦，好啦，好啦。”
　　“伤口开始痛了，”斯诺登猛地缩了一下，突然哀怨地叫了起来。
　　约塞连又发疯似地在急救药箱里乱翻一通，想找支吗啡针：可是只找到了米洛的纸条和一瓶阿司匹林。他一边诅咒着米洛，一边把两片阿司匹林递到斯诺登的嘴边。他没有水给他服药。斯诺登几乎令人察觉不出地轻轻摇了摇头，表示他不愿意吃阿可匹林：他的脸苍白苍白的。约塞连摘下斯诺登的防弹钢盔，让他的头枕在舱板上。
　　“我冷。”斯诺登半闭着眼睛呻吟道，“我冷。”
　　他的嘴唇开始发青。约塞连有点惊慌失措了，他不知道该不该扯开斯诺登的开伞索、把尼龙降落伞布盖在他的身上。机舱里非常暖和、出乎他的意料，斯诺登突然抬了抬眼睛，疲倦而友好地冲他微微一笑，随后挪了挪屁股，好让约塞连给他的伤口敷上磺安药粉。约塞连干着干着便恢复了信心，重新变得乐观起来，飞机闯进一股垂直气流之中、剧烈地颠簸起来：约塞连突然吃惊地想起来，他把自己的降落伞忘在机头那边了。但是，这会儿已经没有什么办法好想了。他一包接一包地把结晶状的白色药粉倒入那个血肉模糊的椭圆形伤口里，直到把殷红色全部盖住。接着，他忧心忡忡地深吸一口气：咬紧牙关，壮起胆子伸出一只赤裸的手抓起那些垂在外面的、渐渐变干巴了的缕缕肌肉，把它们塞回到伤口中去。他急急忙忙地用一大块药棉纱布盖住伤口，随即把手缩了回去。这场短暂的严峻考验总算过去了，他神经质地笑了笑。直接接触无生命的肉体并不像他所预料的那么令人恶心，于是，他一再找借口一次次用手指头去抚摸那个伤口，以确认自己是勇敢的。
　　然后，他动手用一卷绷带绑住那块纱布。当他第二次把绷带绕过斯诺登的大腿时，他看见在他的大腿内侧还有个小洞。这是个圆圆的、有两角五分硬币那么大的伤口，青紫的边缘卷缩着，中间黑洞洞的，血已经凝固了。弹片就是从这儿穿进去的。约塞连在这个伤口上也敷上一层磺安药粉，又继续往斯诺登的大腿上缠绷带，直到把那块纱布包扎紧为止。接着，他用剪刀剪断绷带，把绷带头塞到里面，打了个十分整齐的方结，紧紧系住绷带。他觉得自己包扎得很好，得意地跪坐在自己的后脚跟上，一边擦着额头上的汗珠，一边真诚而友好地对斯诺登咧嘴笑着。
　　“我冷。”斯诺登呻吟着。“我冷。”
　　“你很快就没事了，小伙子，”约塞连安慰地抬了抬他的胳膊，向他保证道，“一切全都控制住了。”
　　斯诺登无力地摇了摇头。“我冷。”他又说。他的眼睛呆滞、暗淡，就像两块石头，“我冷。”
　　“好啦，好啦，”约塞连说。他越来越感到疑虑和惊慌。“好啦，好啦。不一会儿我们就着陆了，丹尼卡医生会来照料你的。”
　　可是，斯诺登还是不停地摇头。最后，他稍微扬了扬下巴，朝自己的腋窝示意了一下。约塞连弯下腰盯住那儿，看见就在防弹衣的袖筒上方，一片颜色奇怪的污迹从工作服里渗透出来、他觉得自己的心一下子停住不跳了，接着又激烈地咚咚跳个不停、跳得他透不过气来。斯诺登的防弹衣里面还有伤口。约塞连一把扯开斯诺登防弹衣的扣子，不由得尖声叫了起来。斯诺登的内脏涌了出来，湿漉漉地堆在地板上，而且伤口里面的血仍然滴滴答答地往外流淌着。一块三英寸多长的弹片正巧从他另一侧的腋窝处射了进去。
　　这块弹片穿过他的腹腔，又在这边的肋骨处打通一个大洞，把他肚子里杂六杂八的东西全都带了出来。约塞连又尖叫了一声，伸出双手使劲捂住眼睛。他吓得浑身战栗，牙齿格格打战。他强迫自己再次抬眼看过去。他一边看一边痛苦地想，上帝造出的一切都在这儿了——肝、肺、肾、肋骨、胃，还有斯诺登那天午饭吃的煨番茄。约塞连最讨厌煨番茄。他头晕目眩地转过身去，一手按住热乎乎的喉咙，大口大口呕吐起来。他正吐着，那个尾舱机熗手醒了过来，看了他一眼，就又昏过去了。约塞连吐完之后，感到浑身疲乏无力，内心既痛苦又绝望。他虚弱地转回身对着斯诺登。斯诺登的呼吸变得越来越微弱、急促，他的脸也变得越来越苍白。约塞连不知道到底该怎么做才能够救活他。
　　“我冷，”斯诺登呜咽着说，“我冷。”
　　“好啦，好啦，”约塞连机械地嘟哝着。他的声音小得根本听不见。
　　约塞连也感到冷，他不由自主地哆嗦起来。斯诺登那可怕的五脏六腑脏兮兮地淌了一地。他死死盯住它们，浑身起了一层鸡皮疙瘩。它们所包含的寓意是很容易领会的。人是物质，这就是斯诺登的秘密。把他从窗口扔出去，他就会摔下去；把他点燃了，他就会烧起来；把他埋入地下，他就会和别的各种垃圾一样腐烂。灵魂离去之后，人就变成了垃圾。这就是斯诺登的秘密。成熟的时机决定一切。
　　“我冷，”斯诺登说，“我冷。”
　　“好啦，好啦，”约塞连说，“好啦，好啦。”他扯开斯诺登的开伞索，把白色的尼龙降落伞布盖在他的身上。
　　“我冷。”
　　“好啦，好啦。”
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原名：独爱穿越。
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Chapter 42 Yossarian
    “Colonel Korn says,” said Major Danby to Yossarian with a prissy, gratified smile, “that the deal is still on.
　　Everything is working out fine.”
　　“No it isn’t.”
　　“Oh, yes, indeed,” Major Danby insisted benevolently. “In fact, everything is much better. It was really a strokeof luck that you were almost murdered by that girl. Now the deal can go through perfectly.”
　　“I’m not making any deals with Colonel Korn.”
　　Major Danby’s effervescent optimism vanished instantly, and he broke out all at once into a bubbling sweat.
　　“But you do have a deal with him, don’t you?” he asked in anguished puzzlement. “Don’t you have anagreement?”
　　“I’m breaking the agreement.”
　　“But you shook hands on it, didn’t you? You gave him your word as a gentleman.”
　　“I’m breaking my word.”
　　“Oh, dear,” sighed Major Danby, and began dabbing ineffectually at his careworn brow with a folded whitehandkerchief. “But why, Yossarian? It’s a very good deal they’re offering you.”
　　“It’s a lousy deal, Danby. It’s an odious deal.”
　　“Oh, dear,” Major Danby fretted, running his bare hand over his dark, wiry hair, which was already soaked withperspiration to the tops of the thick, close-cropped waves. “Oh dear.”
　　“Danby, don’t you think it’s odious?”
　　Major Danby pondered a moment. “Yes, I suppose it is odious,” he conceded with reluctance. His globular,exophthalmic eyes were quite distraught. “But why did you make such a deal if you didn’t like it?”
　　“I did it in a moment of weakness,” Yossarian wisecracked with glum irony. “I was trying to save my life.”
　　“Don’t you want to save your life now?”
　　“That’s why I won’t let them make me fly more missions.”
　　“Then let them send you home and you’ll be in no more danger.”
　　“Let them send me home because I flew more than fifty missions,” Yossarian said, “and not because I wasstabbed by that girl, or because I’ve turned into such a stubborn son of a bitch.”
　　Major Danby shook his head emphatically in sincere and bespectacled vexation. “They’d have to send nearlyevery man home if they did that. Most of the men have more than fifty missions. Colonel Cathcart couldn’tpossibly requisition so many inexperienced replacement crews at one time without causing an investigation. He’scaught in his own trap.”
　　“That’s his problem.”
　　“No, no, no, Yossarian,” Major Danby disagreed solicitously. “It’s your problem. Because if you don’t gothrough with the deal, they’re going to institute court-martial proceedings as soon as you sign out of thehospital.”
　　Yossarian thumbed his nose at Major Danby and laughed with smug elation. “The hell they will! Don’t lie to me,Danby. They wouldn’t even try.”
　　“But why wouldn’t they?” inquired Major Danby, blinking with astonishment.
　　“Because I’ve really got them over a barrel now. There’s an official report that says I was stabbed by a Naziassassin trying to kill them. They’d certainly look silly trying to court-martial me after that.”
　　“But, Yossarian!” Major Danby exclaimed. “There’s another official report that says you were stabbed by aninnocent girl in the course of extensive black-market operations involving acts of sabotage and the sale ofmilitary secrets to the enemy.”
　　Yossarian was taken back severely with surprise and disappointment. “Another official report?”
　　“Yossarian, they can prepare as many official reports as they want and choose whichever ones they need on anygiven occasion. Didn’t you know that?”
　　“Oh, dear,” Yossarian murmured in heavy dejection, the blood draining from his face. “Oh, dear.”
　　Major Danby pressed forward avidly with a look of vulturous well-meaning. “Yossarian, do what they want andlet them send you home. It’s best for everyone that way.”
　　“It’s best for Cathcart, Korn and me, not for everyone.”
　　“For everyone,” Major Danby insisted. “It will solve the whole problem.”
　　“Is it best for the men in the group who will have to keep flying more missions?”
　　Major Danby flinched and turned his face away uncomfortably for a second. “Yossarian,” he replied, “it willhelp nobody if you force Colonel Cathcart to court-martial you and prove you guilty of all the crimes with whichyou’ll be charged. You will go to prison for a long time, and your whole life will be ruined.”
　　Yossarian listened to him with a growing feeling of concern. “What crimes will they charge me with?”
　　“Incompetence over Ferrara, insubordination, refusal to engage the enemy in combat when ordered to do so, anddesertion.”
　　Yossarian sucked his cheeks in soberly. “They could charge me with all that, could they? They gave me a medalfor Ferrara. How could they charge me with incompetence now?”
　　“Aarfy will swear that you and McWatt lied in your official report.”
　　“I’ll bet the bastard would!”
　　“They will also find you guilty,” Major Danby recited, “of rape, extensive black-market operations, acts ofsabotage and the sale of military secrets to the enemy.”
　　“How will they prove any of that? I never did a single one of those things.”
　　“But they have witnesses who will swear you did. They can get all the witnesses they need simply by persuadingthem that destroying you is for the good of the country. And in a way, it would be for the good of the country.”
　　“In what way?” Yossarian demanded, rising up slowly on one elbow with bridling hostility.
　　Major Danby drew back a bit and began mopping his forehead again. “Well, Yossarian,” he began with anapologetic stammer, “it would not help the war effort to bring Colonel Cathcart and Colonel Korn into disreputenow. Let’s face it, Yossarian—in spite of everything, the group does have a very good record. If you were courtmartialedand found innocent, other men would probably refuse to fly missions, too. Colonel Cathcart would bein disgrace, and the military efficiency of the unit might be destroyed. So in that way it would be for the good ofthe country to have you found guilty and put in prison, even though you are innocent.”
　　“What a sweet way you have of putting things!” Yossarian snapped with caustic resentment.
　　Major Danby turned red and squirmed and squinted uneasily. “Please don’t blame me,” he pleaded with a look ofanxious integrity. “You know it’s not my fault. All I’m doing is trying to look at things objectively and arrive ata solution to a very difficult situation.”
　　“I didn’t create the situation.”
　　“But you can resolve it. And what else can you do? You don’t want to fly more missions.”
　　“I can run away.”
　　“Run away?”
　　“Desert. Take off I can turn my back on the whole damned mess and start running.”
　　Major Danby was shocked. “Where to? Where could you go?”
　　“I could get to Rome easily enough. And I could hide myself there.”
　　“And live in danger every minute of your life that they would find you? No, no, no, no, Yossarian. That wouldbe a disastrous and ignoble thing to do. Running away from problems never solved them. Please believe me. Iam only trying to help you.”
　　“That’s what that kind detective said before he decided to jab his thumb into my wound,” Yossarian retortedsarcastically.
　　“I am not a detective,” Major Danby replied with indignation, his cheeks flushing again. “I’m a universityprofessor with a highly developed sense of right and wrong, and I wouldn’t try to deceive you. I wouldn’t lie toanyone.”
　　“What would you do if one of the men in the group asked you about this conversation?”
　　“I would lie to him.”
　　Yossarian laughed mockingly, and Major Danby, despite his blushing discomfort, leaned back with relief, asthough welcoming the respite Yossarian’s changing mood promised. Yossarian gazed at him with a mixture ofreserved pity and contempt. He sat up in bed with his back resting against the headboard, lit a cigarette, smiledslightly with wry amusement, and stared with whimsical sympathy at the vivid, pop-eyed horror that hadimplanted itself permanently on Major Danby’s face the day of the mission to Avignon, when General Dreedlehad ordered him taken outside and shot. The startled wrinkles would always remain, like deep black scars, andYossarian felt sorry for the gentle, moral, middle-aged idealist, as he felt sorry for so many people whoseshortcomings were not large and whose troubles were light.
　　With deliberate amiability he said, “Danby, how can you work along with people like Cathcart and Korn?
　　Doesn’t it turn your stomach?”
　　Major Danby seemed surprised by Yossarian’s question. “I do it to help my country,” he replied, as though theanswer should have been obvious. “Colonel Cathcart and Colonel Korn are my superiors, and obeying theirorders is the only contribution I can make to the war effort. I work along with them because it’s my duty. Andalso,” he added in a much lower voice, dropping his eyes, “because I am not a very aggressive person.”
　　“Your country doesn’t need your help any more,” Yossarian reasoned with antagonism. “So all you’re doing ishelping them.”
　　“I try not to think of that,” Major Danby admitted frankly. “But I try to concentrate on only the big result and toforget that they are succeeding, too. I try to pretend that they are not significant.”
　　“That’s my trouble, you know,” Yossarian mused sympathetically, folding his arms. “Between me and everyideal I always find Scheisskopfs, Peckems, Korns and Cathcarts. And that sort of changes the ideal.”
　　“You must try not to think of them,” Major Danby advised affirmatively. “And you must never let them changeyour values. Ideals are good, but people are sometimes not so good. You must try to look up at the big picture.”
　　Yossarian rejected the advice with a skeptical shake of his head. “When I look up, I see people cashing in. Idon’t see heaven or saints or angels. I see people cashing in on every decent impulse and every human tragedy.”
　　“But you must try not to think of that, too,” Major Danby insisted. “And you must try not to let it upset you.”
　　“Oh, it doesn’t really upset me. What does upset me, though, is that they think I’m a sucker. They think thatthey’re smart, and that the rest of us are dumb. And, you know, Danby, the thought occurs to me right now, forthe first time, that maybe they’re right.”
　　“But you must try not to think of that too,” argued Major Danby. “You must think only of the welfare of yourcountry and the dignity of man.”
　　“Yeah,” said Yossarian.
　　“I mean it, Yossarian. This is not World War One. You must never forget that we’re at war with aggressors whowould not let either one of us live if they won.”
　　“I know that,” Yossarian replied tersely, with a sudden surge of scowling annoyance. “Christ, Danby, I earnedthat medal I got, no matter what their reasons were for giving it to me. I’ve flown seventy goddam combatmissions. Don’t talk to me about fighting to save my country. I’ve been fighting all along to save my country.
　　Now I’m going to fight a little to save myself. The country’s not in danger any more, but I am.”
　　“The war’s not over yet. The Germans are driving toward Antwerp.”
　　“The Germans will be beaten in a few months. And Japan will be beaten a few months after that. If I were to giveup my life now, it wouldn’t be for my country. It would be for Cathcart and Korn. So I’m turning my bombsightin for the duration. From now on I’m thinking only of me.”
　　Major Danby replied indulgently with a superior smile, “But, Yossarian, suppose everyone felt that way.”
　　“Then I’d certainly be a damned fool to feel any other way, wouldn’t I?” Yossarian sat up straighter with aquizzical expression. “You know, I have a queer feeling that I’ve been through this exact conversation beforewith someone. It’s just like the chaplain’s sensation of having experienced everything twice.”
　　“The chaplain wants you to let them send you home,” Major Danby remarked.
　　“The chaplain can jump in the lake.”
　　“Oh, dear.” Major Danby sighed, shaking his head in regretful disappointment. “He’s afraid he might haveinfluenced you.”
　　“He didn’t influence me. You know what I might do? I might stay right here in this hospital bed and vegetate. Icould vegetate very comfortably right here and let other people make the decisions.”
　　“You must make decisions,” Major Danby disagreed. “A person can’t live like a vegetable.”
　　“Why not?”
　　A distant warm look entered Major Danby’s eyes. “It must be nice to live like a vegetable,” he concededwistfully.
　　“It’s lousy,” answered Yossarian.
　　“No, it must be very pleasant to be free from all this doubt and pressure,” insisted Major Danby. “I think I’d liketo live like a vegetable and make no important decisions.”
　　“What kind of vegetable, Danby?”
　　“A cucumber or a carrot.”
　　“What kind of cucumber? A good one or a bad one?”
　　“Oh, a good one, of course.”
　　“They’d cut you off in your prime and slice you up for a salad.”
　　Major Danby’s face fell. “A poor one, then.”
　　“They’d let you rot and use you for fertilizer to help the good ones grow.”
　　“I guess I don’t want to live like a vegetable, then,” said Major Danby with a smile of sad resignation.
　　“Danby, must I really let them send me home?” Yossarian inquired of him seriously.
　　Major Danby shrugged. “It’s a way to save yourself.”
　　“It’s a way to lose myself, Danby. You ought to know that.”
　　“You could have lots of things you want.”
　　“I don’t want lots of things I want,” Yossarian replied, and then beat his fist down against the mattress in anoutburst of rage and frustration. “Goddammit, Danby! I’ve got friends who were killed in this war. I can’t makea deal now. Getting stabbed by that bitch was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
　　“Would you rather go to jail?”
　　“Would you let them send you home?”
　　“Of course I would!” Major Danby declared with conviction. “Certainly I would,” he added a few moments later,in a less positive manner. “Yes, I suppose I would let them send me home if I were in your place,” he decideduncomfortably, after lapsing into troubled contemplation. Then he threw his face sideways disgustedly in agesture of violent distress and blurted out, “Oh, yes, of course I’d let them send me home! But I’m such a terriblecoward I couldn’t really be in your place.”
　　“But suppose you weren’t a coward?” Yossarian demanded, studying him closely. “Suppose you did have thecourage to defy somebody?”
　　“Then I wouldn’t let them send me home,” Major Danby vowed emphatically with vigorous joy and enthusiasm.
　　“But I certainly wouldn’t let them court-martial me.”
　　“Would you fly more missions?”
　　“No, of course not. That would be total capitulation. And I might be killed.”
　　“Then you’d run away?”
　　Major Danby started to retort with proud spirit and came to an abrupt stop, his half-opened jaw swinging closeddumbly. He pursed his lips in a tired pout. “I guess there just wouldn’t be any hope for me, then, would there?”
　　His forehead and protuberant white eyeballs were soon glistening nervously again. He crossed his limp wrists inhis lap and hardly seemed to be breathing as he sat with his gaze drooping toward the floor in acquiescent defeat.
　　Dark, steep shadows slanted in from the window. Yossarian watched him solemnly, and neither of the two menstirred at the rattling noise of a speeding vehicle skidding to a stop outside and the sound of racing footstepspounding toward the building in haste.
　　“Yes, there’s hope for you,” Yossarian remembered with a sluggish flow of inspiration. “Milo might help you.
　　He’s bigger than Colonel Cathcart, and he owes me a few favors.”
　　Major Danby shook his head and answered tonelessly. “Milo and Colonel Cathcart are pals now. He madeColonel Cathcart a vice-president and promised him an important job after the war.”
　　“Then ex-P.F.C. Wintergreen will help us,” Yossarian exclaimed. “He hates them both, and this will infuriatehim.”
　　Major Danby shook his head bleakly again. “Milo and ex-P.F.C. Wintergreen merged last week. They’re allpartners now in M & M Enterprises.”
　　“Then there is no hope for us, is there?”
　　“No hope.”
　　“No hope at all, is there?”
　　“No, no hope at all,” Major Danby conceded. He looked up after a while with a half-formed notion. “Wouldn’t itbe nice if they could disappear us the way they disappeared the others and relieve us of all these crushingburdens?”
　　Yossarian said no. Major Danby agreed with a melancholy nod, lowering his eyes again, and there was no hopeat all for either of them until footsteps exploded in the corridor suddenly and the chaplain, shouting at the top ofhis voice, came bursting into the room with the electrifying news about Orr, so overcome with hilariousexcitement that he was almost incoherent for a minute or two. Tears of great elation were sparkling in his eyes,and 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 aboutuncontrollably from spot to spot in a grinning, delicious frenzy. “It’s a miracle, I tell you! A miracle! I believe inGod 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 thewalls, the ceiling, the chaplain and Major Danby. “He didn’t wash ashore in Sweden. He rowed there! He rowedthere, 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 humanintelligence and human endurance. Look how much he accomplished!” The chaplain clutched his head with bothhands and doubled over in laughter. “Can’t you just picture him?” he exclaimed with amazement. “Can’t you justpicture 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 teaevery afternoon—““I can just see him!” cried the chaplain, pausing a moment in his celebration to catch his breath. “It’s a miracle ofhuman 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 asthough 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, hidinginside 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 beforeit’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 anddespairing selfrecrimination. “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 tellme what you are talking about?”
　　“Danby, Orr planned it that way. Don’t you understand—he planned it that way from the beginning. He evenpracticed getting shot down. He rehearsed for it on every mission he flew. And I wouldn’t go with him! Oh, whywouldn’t I listen? He invited me along, and I wouldn’t go with him! Danby, bring me buck teeth too, and a valveto 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 girlwas 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! Pleasehelp 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 thishospital 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’llget your uniform. But why was that girl hitting Orr over the head with her shoe? Please tell me.”
　　“Because he was paying her to, that’s why! But she wouldn’t hit him hard enough, so he had to row to Sweden.
　　Chaplain, find me my uniform so I can get out of here. Ask Nurse Duckett for it. She’ll help you. She’ll doanything she can to be rid of me.”
　　“Where are you going?” Major Danby asked apprehensively when the chaplain had shot from the room. “Whatare you going to do?”
　　“I’m going to run away,” Yossarian announced in an exuberant, clear voice, already tearing open the buttons ofhis pajama tops.
　　“Oh, no,” Major Danby groaned, and began patting his perspiring face rapidly with the bare palms of both hands.
　　“You can’t run away. Where can you run to? Where can you go?”
　　“To Sweden.”
　　“To Sweden?” Major Danby exclaimed in astonishment. “You’re going to run to Sweden? Are you crazy?”
　　“Orr did it.”
　　“Oh, no, no, no, no, no,” Major Danby pleaded. “No, Yossarian, you’ll never get there. You can’t run away toSweden. You can’t even row.”
　　“But I can get to Rome if you’ll keep your mouth shut when you leave here and give me a chance to catch a ride.
　　Will you do it?”
　　“But they’ll find you,” Major Danby argued desperately, “and bring you back and punish you even moreseverely.”
　　“They’ll have to try like hell to catch me this time.”
　　“They will try like hell. And even if they don’t find you, what kind of way is that to live? You’ll always bealone. No one will ever be on your side, and you’ll always live in danger of betrayal.”
　　“I live that way now.”
　　“But you can’t just turn your back on all your responsibilities and run away from them,” Major Danby insisted.
　　“It’s such a negative move. It’s escapist.”
　　Yossarian laughed with buoyant scorn and shook his head. “I’m not running away from my responsibilities. I’mrunning to them. There’s nothing negative about running away to save my life. You know who the escapists are,don’t you, Danby? Not me and Orr.”
　　“Chaplain, please talk to him, will you? He’s deserting. He wants to run away to Sweden.”
　　“Wonderful!” cheered the chaplain, proudly throwing on the bed a pillowcase full of Yossarian’s clothing. “Runaway to Sweden, Yossarian. And I’ll stay here and persevere. Yes. I’ll persevere. I’ll nag and badger ColonelCathcart and Colonel Korn every time I see them. I’m not afraid. I’ll even pick on General Dreedle.”
　　“General Dreedle’s out,” Yossarian reminded, pulling on his trousers and hastily stuffing the tails of his shirtinside. “It’s General Peckem now.”
　　The chaplain’s babbling confidence did not falter for an instant. “Then I’ll pick on General Peckem, and even onGeneral Scheisskopf. And do you know what else I’m going to do? I’m going to punch Captain Black in the nosethe very next time I see him. Yes, I’m going to punch him in the nose. I’ll do it when lots of people are around sothat he may not have a chance to hit me back.”
　　“Have you both gone crazy?” Major Danby protested, his bulging eyes straining in their sockets with torturedawe and exasperation. “Have you both taken leave of your senses? Yossarian, listen—““It’s a miracle, I tell you,” the chaplain proclaimed, seizing Major Danby about the waist and dancing himaround with his elbows extended for a waltz. “A real miracle. If Orr could row to Sweden, then I can triumphover Colonel Cathcart and Colonel Korn, if only I persevere.”
　　“Chaplain, will you please shut up?” Major Danby entreated politely, pulling free and patting his perspiring browwith a fluttering motion. He bent toward Yossarian, who was reaching for his shoes. “What about Colonel—““I couldn’t care less.”
　　“But this may actua-““To hell with them both!”
　　“This may actually help them,” Major Danby persisted stubbornly. “Have you thought of that?”
　　“Let the bastards thrive, for all I care, since I can’t do a thing to stop them but embarrass them by running away.
　　I’ve got responsibilities of my own now, Danby. I’ve got to get to Sweden.”
　　“You’ll never make it. It’s impossible. It’s almost a geographical impossibility to get there from here.”
　　“Hell, Danby, I know that. But at least I’ll be trying. There’s a young kid in Rome whose life I’d like to save if Ican find her. I’ll take her to Sweden with me if I can find her, so it isn’t all selfish, is it?”
　　“It’s absolutely insane. Your conscience will never let you rest.”
　　“God bless it.” Yossarian laughed. “I wouldn’t want to live without strong misgivings. Right, Chaplain?”
　　“I’m going to punch Captain Black right in the nose the next time I see him,” gloried the chaplain, throwing twoleft jabs in the air and then a clumsy haymaker. “Just like that.”
　　“What about the disgrace?” demanded Major Danby.
　　“What disgrace? I’m more in disgrace now.” Yossarian tied a hard knot in the second shoelace and sprang to hisfeet. “Well, Danby, I’m ready. What do you say? Will you keep your mouth shut and let me catch a ride?”
　　Major Danby regarded Yossarian in silence, with a strange, sad smile. He had stopped sweating and seemedabsolutely calm. “What would you do if I did try to stop you?” he asked with rueful mockery. “Beat me up?”
　　Yossarian reacted to the question with hurt surprise. “No, of course not. Why do you say that?”
　　“I will beat you up,” boasted the chaplain, dancing up very close to Major Danby and shadowboxing. “You andCaptain Black, and maybe even Corporal Whitcomb. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I found I didn’t have to beafraid of Corporal Whitcomb any more?”
　　“Are you going to stop me?” Yossarian asked Major Danby, and gazed at him steadily.
　　Major Danby skipped away from the chaplain and hesitated a moment longer. “No, of course not!” he blurtedout, and suddenly was waving both arms toward the door in a gesture of exuberant urgency. “Of course I won’tstop you. Go, for God sakes, and hurry! Do you need any money?”
　　“I have some money.”
　　“Well, here’s some more.” With fervent, excited enthusiasm, Major Danby pressed a thick wad of Italiancurrency upon Yossarian and clasped his hand in both his own, as much to still his own trembling fingers as togive encouragement to Yossarian. “It must be nice to be in Sweden now,” he observed yearningly. “The girls areso sweet. And the people are so advanced.”
　　“Goodbye, Yossarian,” the chaplain called. “And good luck. I’ll stay here and persevere, and we’ll meet againwhen the fighting stops.”
　　“So long, Chaplain. Thanks, Danby.”
　　“How do you feel, Yossarian?”
　　“Fine. No, I’m very frightened.”
　　“That’s good,” said Major Danby. “It proves you’re still alive. It won’t be fun.”
　　Yossarian started out. “Yes it will.”
　　“I mean it, Yossarian. You’ll have to keep on your toes every minute of every day. They’ll bend heaven andearth to catch you.”
　　“I’ll keep on my toes every minute.”
　　“You’ll have to jump.”
　　“I’ll jump.”
　　“Jump!” Major Danby cried.
　　Yossarian jumped. Nately’s whore was hiding just outside the door. The knife came down, missing him byinches, and he took off.
42、约塞连
　　“科恩中校说，”丹比少校既谨慎又满意地笑着告诉约塞连，“那笔交易仍然有效。一切都正在顺利进展之中。”
　　“不，不是的。”
　　“噢，是的，的确是的，”丹比少校关切地坚持道，“事实上，一切都比以前好多了。你真是交了好运，差一点就叫那个女人给杀死了。现在，这笔交易可以顺利进行了。”
　　“我没跟科恩中校做任何交易。”
　　丹比少校兴致勃勃的乐观劲头突然间全没了，顿时冒出一身冷汗。“可你确实跟他谈过一笔交易，不是吗？”他苦恼而困惑地问道，“你们难道没有达成协议吗？”
　　“我撕毁了协议。”
　　“可你们达成协议时是握了手的，不是吗？你像个正人君子那样答应了他。”
　　“现在我改主意了。”
　　“哦，唉。”丹比少校叹了口气。他用一块折叠起来的白手帕徒劳无益地擦拭着他那忧郁的前额。“可为什么呢，约塞连？他们向你提出的是一笔很好的交易。”
　　“是一笔卑鄙下流的交易，丹比。是一笔令人作呕的交易。”
　　“哦，唉，”丹比少校烦躁地叹气道。他抬起一只光溜溜的手，抹了抹自己金属丝般的黑头发，他那一头又粗又短的卷发早已让汗水给浸透了。“哦，唉。”
　　“丹比，你难道不认为这笔交易令人作呕吗？”
　　丹比少校思索了一下。“是的，我是觉得它令人作呕，”他勉勉强强地承认道。他那双眼球突出的圆眼睛里流露出困惑不解的神情。“可既然你不喜欢，那又为什么要做这笔交易呢？”
　　“我是一时软弱才这样做的，”约塞连阴郁地、嘲讽地打趣道，“我是想救自己的命。”
　　“难道你现在就不想救自己的命了吗？”
　　“正是为了这个，我才不让他们派我去执行更多的飞行任务。”
　　“那么，让他们送你回国，你就不会再有任何危险了。”
　　“我让他们送我回国，是因为我已经执行了五十次以上的飞行任务，”约塞连说，“并不是因为我被那个姑娘捅了一刀，也不是因为我变成了这么个顽固不化的狗杂种。”
　　戴着眼镜的丹比少校使劲摇了摇头，一脸诚恳的苦恼神情。
　　“那样一来，他们就不得不把几乎所有人送回国去。大多数人都已经执行了五十次以上的飞行任务。如果卡思卡特上校一下子要求增派这么多毫无经验的补充机组人员的话，上头不可能不派人来调查的：那样一来，他就掉进他自己设的陷阱里去了。”
　　“那是他的问题。”
　　“不，不不，约塞连，”丹比少校焦虑地反对道，“这是你的问题。
　　因为；如果你不履行这笔交易的话，只要你办好手续出了医院，他们马上就会对你进行军法审判。”
　　约塞连把大拇指搁在鼻尖上朝丹比少校做了个蔑视的手势，沾沾自喜；洋洋得意地哈哈一笑。“叫他们见鬼去吧：别骗我啦，丹比、他们根本不会这样做。”
　　“可他们为什么不会？”丹比少校惊奇地眨着眼睛问道。
　　“因为我眼下已经把他们握在手心里了。有份官方报告说，我是被一个前来暗杀他们的纳粹刺客刺伤的。在这种情况下，他们要是再对我进行军法审判的话，那不是出他们自己的洋相嘛。”
　　“可是，约塞连！”丹比少校叫道，“还有另一份官方报告说，你是在从事黑市交易时被一个单纯的姑娘刺伤的。那上面说，你参与的黑市交易范围广泛，你甚至还卷入了破坏活动以及向敌方出售军事秘密的勾当。”
　　约塞连不由得大吃一惊，又是诧异又是失望，“另一份官方报告？”
　　“约塞连，他们想准备多少份官方报告就可以准备多少份，这样一来，在任何一种特定情况下，他们需要哪人份就可以选用哪一份；这儿点你难道不知道吗？”
　　“哦，唉，”约塞连垂头丧气地嘟哝着，脸上一点血色都没有了。
　　“哦，唉。”
　　丹比少校露出一副出于好意的急切神情，热心地劝说者他。
　　“约塞连，他们叫你做什么你就做什么，让他们送你回国吧，这样做对每个人都有好处。”
　　“是对卡思卡特、科恩和我有好处，并不是对每个人。”
　　“是对每个人。”丹比少校坚持道，“这样做整个问题全都解决了。”
　　“对大队里那些将不得不执行更多飞行任务的人也有好处吗？”
　　丹比少校畏缩了一下，不安地把脸转过去了一会儿。“约塞连，”他回答道，“如果你逼得卡思卡特上校对你进行军法审判，并证明你犯有他们指控你的所有罪行的话，那对任何人都没有好处，你会坐很长一段时间牢的，你的一生就全给毁了。”
　　约塞连越往下听心里越着急。“他们会指控我犯了什么罪呢？”
　　“在弗拉拉上空作战失利；违抗上级，拒绝执行与敌方交战的命令，以及开小差等等。”
　　约塞连严肃地吸了吸两颊，“他们能指控我犯了这么一大堆罪状吗？在弗拉拉的那场空战后，他们还发给我一枚勋章呢。现在他们又怎么能够指控我作战失利呢？”
　　“阿费将宣誓作证，说你和麦克沃特在你们给上级的报告中说了假话。”
　　“我敢打赌，那个杂种准会这么干的。”
　　“他们还将证明你犯有下列罪行，”丹比少校一件一件地列举着，“强奸，参与范围广泛的黑市交易，从事破坏活动，以及向敌方出售军事秘密等等。”
　　“他们将如何证明这些呢？这些事情我一样也没有干过。”
　　“可是他们手里有证人，那些人会宣誓作证说你干过。他们只需说服人家相信，除掉你对国家有好处，就可以找到他们所需要的全部证人。从某一方面说，除掉你对国家会有好处的。”
　　“从哪方面呢？”约塞连追问道。他强压住心头的敌意，用一只胳膊肘撑着慢慢抬起身子来。
　　丹比少校往后缩了缩身体，又擦拭起额头来。“唉，约塞连，”他结结巴巴地争辩道，“在目前这个时候，把卡思卡特上校和科恩中校搞得声名狼藉，对我们的作战行动是没有好处的。让我们面对现实，约塞连——不管怎么说，我们大队的战绩确实出色。如果对你进行军法审判而最后又证实你无罪的话，其他人很可能也会拒绝执行更多的飞行任务，卡思卡特上校就会当众丢脸，部队的作战能力也许就全部丧失了。所以，从这方面讲，证明你有罪并把你关进监狱，对国家是会有好处的，即使你没罪也得这样做。”
　　“你把事情说得多么动听啊！”约塞连刻薄而怨恨地厉声说道。
　　丹比少校的脸红了。他局促不安地扭动着身体，不敢正眼看约塞连。“请不要怪我，”他带着焦虑而诚恳的神情恳求道，“你也知道这不是我的过错。我现在所做的不过是试图客观地看问题，并且找出办法来解决一个极为困难的局面。”
　　“这个局面又不是我造成的。”
　　“可你能够解决它。要不你还能干些什么呢？你又不愿意执行更多的飞行任务。”
　　“我可以逃走。”
　　“逃走？”
　　“开小差，溜之大吉。我可以甩开眼前这个乌七八糟的局面，掉头就跑。”
　　丹比少校大吃一惊。“往哪儿跑？你能去哪儿呢？”
　　“我可以轻而易举地跑到罗马去，在那儿藏起来。”
　　“那样你的生命就无时无刻不处在危险之中，他们随时会找到你的。不，不，不，不，约塞连。那样做是卑鄙可耻的，会带来灾难。
　　逃避问题是永远解决不了问题的。请相信我，我是想尽力帮助你的。”
　　“那个好心的密探把大拇指戳进我的伤口之前就是这么说的，”约塞连嘲讽地反驳道。
　　“我不是密探，”丹比少校愤怒地回答道。他的双颊又涨红了。
　　“我是个大学教授，我具有极强的是非感，我决不会欺骗你，也决不会对任何人撒谎。”
　　“要是大队里有谁向你问起我们的这次谈话，那你怎么办？”
　　“那我就对他撒个谎。”
　　约塞连嘲讽地大笑起来。丹比少校虽然面红耳赤，浑身不自在，却也松了口气，靠坐到椅背上。约塞连情绪上的变化预示着短暂的缓和气氛的出现，这似乎正是丹比少校希望看见的，约塞连凝视着丹比少校，神情中既流露出淡淡的怜悯又包含着轻蔑。他背靠着床头坐了起来，点燃一支香烟，露出一副苦中取乐的神情微笑着，怀着一种奇特的同情盯着丹比少校的脸。自从执行轰炸阿维尼翁的任务那一天德里德尔将军下令把丹比少校拖出去熗毙时起，丹比少校的脸上就流露出一种强烈的惊恐表情来，而且再也无法抹去。那些给惊吓出来的皱纹也像深深的黑色伤疤一样永久地留在了他的脸上。约塞连为这位文雅正派的中年理想主义者感到惋惜，正像他总是为许多有着这样或那样的小毛病、遇到这种或那种小麻烦的人感到惋惜一样。
　　他故作亲热地说：“丹比，你怎么能够跟卡思卡特和科恩这样的人一块共事呢？这难道不使你倒胃口吗？”
　　约塞连的这个问题似乎使丹比少校感到惊奇。“我跟他们共事是为了帮助我的祖国，”他回答说，好像这个回答是不言而喻的。
　　“卡思卡特上校和科恩中校是我的上级，执行他们的命令是我能对我们所进行的这场战争作出的唯一贡献。我和他们共事，是因为这是我的职责，而且，”他垂下眼睛，压低嗓门补充说，也因为我不是个富于进取心的人。”
　　“你的祖国已经不再需要你的帮助了，”约塞连心平气和地开导他说，“所以你现在所做的一切只不过是在帮助他们。”
　　“我尽量不这么考虑问题，”丹比少校坦率地承认道，“我极力把注意力只集中在已取得的巨大成果上，极力忘掉他们也在获得成功这一事实。我极力骗自己说，他们不过是些微不足道的小人物而已。”
　　“你知道，我的麻烦也就在这里，”约塞连抱拢双臂，摆出一副沉思的模样说道，“在我和我的全部理想之间，我总是发现许多个沙伊斯科普夫、佩克姆、科恩、卡思卡特那样的人，而这种人又多多少少改变了我的理想。”
　　“你应当尽量不去想他们，”丹比少校口气肯定地劝告说，“你决不能让他们改变你的行为准则。理想是美好的，但人有时却不是那么美好、你应当尽量抬起头来看大局。”
　　约塞连怀疑地摇了摇头，拒绝接受丹比的劝告。“当我抬起头来时，我看到人们全在设法赚钱。我看不见天堂，看不见圣人，也看不见天使。我只看见人们利用每一次正当的冲动和每一场人类的悲剧大把大把地捞钱。”
　　“可你应当尽量不去想这类事情。”丹比少校坚持道，“你应当尽量不让这类事情弄得你心烦意乱。”
　　“噢，我倒也没有真的心烦意乱。不过，叫我心烦意乱的是，他们把我当成了傻瓜。他们以为自己很聪明，而我们其余的人都笨得很，你知道，丹比，我刚才突然头一回冒出这么个念头，也许他们是对的。”
　　“可你也应当尽量不去想这种事。”丹比少校争辩道，“你应当只考虑国家的利益和人类的尊严。”
　　“是啊，”约塞连说。
　　“我真的是这个意思，约塞连。这不是第一次世界大战。你千万不要忘了，我们现在是在跟侵略者作战。如果他们打赢了，他们不会让我们俩中的任何一个活下去。”
　　“这我知道，”约塞连硬邦邦地回答道。他突然恼怒地板起了脸。“哼，丹比，无论他们发给我那枚勋章的理由是什么，那勋章反正是我自己挣来的。我已经执行了七十次该死的飞行任务，别再对我讲那些为拯救祖国而战斗的废话啦。我一直在为拯救祖国而战斗，现在我要为救我自己而战斗一下。祖国已经没有什么危险了，而我却正处在危险之中呢。”
　　“战争还没有结束呢。德国人正朝安特卫普推进。”
　　“几个月之内，德国人就会被打败。那之后再过几个月，日本人也会被打败。如果我现在战死了，那就不是为国捐躯，而是替卡思卡特和科恩送死。所以，在此期间，我要交回我的轰炸瞄准器。从现在起，我只考虑我自己。”
　　丹比少校高傲地笑笑，颇为宽容地反问道，“可是，约塞连，要是每个人都这么想呢？”
　　“要是那样，如果我不这么想，我不就成了个头号大傻瓜了吗？”约塞连露出一副嘲讽的表情，身体坐得更直了。“你知道吗？我有一种奇怪的感觉，好像我以前也和什么人进行过一次跟这次一模一样的谈话。这跟牧师的感觉一样，他觉得每件事他都经历过两次。”
　　“牧师希望你让他们把你送回国去。”
　　“牧师希望什么，我才不在乎呢。”
　　“哦，唉。”丹比少校叹了口气，遗憾而失望地摇了摇头，“他担心自己可能影响了你。”
　　“他没有影响我。你知道我可能会干什么吗？我可能会一直呆在医院的这张病床上，像株植物那样生活。我在这儿可以舒舒服服地过植物般的生活，让别人去拿主意吧。”
　　“你必须自己拿主意，”丹比少校反驳道，“一个人不能像一株植物那样生活。”
　　“为什么不能？”
　　丹比少校眼中出现了一丝淡淡的热情。“像一株植物那样生活必定是很愉快的，”他若有所思地承认道。
　　“是糟糕透顶的，”约塞连说。
　　“不，摆脱了所有这些疑虑和压力的生活必定是非常舒适的，”丹比少校坚持道，“我觉得我很愿意像一株植物那样生活，那样就不必为大事情操心拿主意了。”
　　“什么样的植物呢，丹比？”
　　“黄瓜，或者胡萝卜。”
　　“什么样的黄瓜？是好黄瓜还是坏黄瓜？”
　　“噢，当然是好黄瓜咯。”
　　“那么，你只要一成熟，他们就会把你摘下来，切成片做色拉。”
　　丹比少校沉下脸来。“那只能是坏黄瓜啦。”
　　“那么，他们会让你腐烂掉，把你拿去给好黄瓜当肥料，好让它们快些成熟。”
　　“要是那样的话，恐怕我不会愿意像一株植物那样生活的，”丹比少校无可奈何地微微一笑，伤感地说。
　　“丹比，我真的必须让他们送我回国吗？”约塞连严肃地问他。
　　丹比少校耸了耸肩。“这是救你自己的一种方法。”
　　“这是毁掉我自己的一种方法，丹比。这个道理你应该明白的。”
　　“你可以得到许多你想要的东西。”
　　“没有多少我想要的东西，”约塞连回答道。他内心突然涌起一股愤怒和失望，举起拳头狠狠地捶着床垫。“真***，丹比！我有不少朋友在这场战争中送了命。这笔交易我不能做。让那个娼妇捅了一刀，这算是我所经历过的最好的事情了。”
　　“那你宁愿进监狱吗？”
　　“你会愿意让他们送你回国吗？”
　　“我当然愿意！”丹比少校斩钉截铁地说，“我肯定愿意。”过了一会，他又用不那么肯定的口气加上了一句。“不错，要是我处在你的地位，我想我会让他们送我回国的。”他忧虑不安地思索了片刻之后，很不自在地拿定了主意。接着，他流露出极为痛苦的神情，厌恶地猛然把脸扭向一边，脱口叫道，“噢，是的，当然啦，我会让他们送我回国的！可我是一个最最胆小的人，我根本不可能处在你的位置上。”
　　“可假如你不是个胆小的人呢？”约塞连目不转睛地打量着他问道，“假如你的确有勇气跟某个人作对呢？”
　　“要真是那样，我是不会让他们送我回国的，”丹比少校断然发誓说。他的声音强劲有力，欢快热情。“可我肯定不会让他们对我进行军法审判的。”
　　“你愿意执行更多的飞行任务吗？”
　　“不，当然不愿意。那样做无异于全面投降。再说，我可能会送命的。”
　　“那你会逃走吗？”
　　丹比少校露出高傲的神色，刚要反驳，又突然停住了，他那半张开的嘴巴也默默地闭上了。他厌烦地噘起了嘴唇。“我想，我根本就没有什么希望，不是吗？”
　　不一会，他的前额和暴出的白眼球又显出了紧张不安。他把两只软绵绵的手腕交叉着放在膝盖上，坐在那儿屏住呼吸，垂下眼睛盯着地板，默默地承认了自己的失败。陡斜的暗影从窗外映了进来。约塞连神情严肃地看着他。一辆疾驶而来的汽车在外面猛然刹住，发出一阵嘎的声响。随后，传来了什么人匆匆跑进大楼的咯咯脚步声。可是他们俩谁也没有动一动。
　　“不，你还有希望。”约塞连愣了好一会，才想出一个主意来。
　　“米洛也许会帮助你。他比卡思卡特上校有来头，他还欠我几桩人情呢。”
　　丹比摇了摇头，语调平淡地回答道：“米洛和卡思卡特上校现在是伙伴啦。他让卡思卡特上校当上了副总裁，还答应他战争结束后给他安排一个重要的职务。”
　　“那么，前一等兵温特格林会帮助我们的，”约塞连叫道。“他恨他们两个，这件事准会把他惹火的。”
　　丹比少校又一次悲哀地摇了摇头。“米洛和前一等兵温特格林上个星期合伙了，他们现在全都是MM辛迪加联合体的合伙人了。”
　　“这么说我们没有希望了，是吗？”
　　“没有希望了。”
　　“没有一点希望了，是吗？”
　　“没有，没有一点希望了，”丹比少校承认道。过了一会，他抬起脸，说出一个尚未成熟的想法来。“如果他们能够像使其他人失踪那样让我们失踪，使我们摆脱这些沉重的负担，那不是件好事情吗？”
　　约塞连认为那不是好事。丹比少校忧郁地点点头，表示同意，随后便又垂下了眼睛。两个人全都觉得毫无希望了。突然，走廊里传来一阵很响的脚步声，牧师可着嗓门嚷嚷着冲进门来。他带来了一个令人振奋的消息，是关于奥尔的。他又高兴又激动、有那么一两分钟连话都说不成句了。他的眼睛里闪动着喜悦的泪花、当约塞连终于听明白牧师的话时，他不敢相信地大叫一声，抬腿从床上跳了下来。
　　“瑞典？”他大声问。
　　“奥尔！”牧师大声说。
　　“奥尔？”约塞连大声问。
　　“瑞典！”牧师叫道。他兴高采烈地不住地点着头，开心地、兴奋地咧嘴笑着，得意洋洋地满屋子走个不停。“我告诉你，这是个奇迹！奇迹，我又信仰上帝啦！真的。在海上漂了这么多个星期，最后竟被冲到瑞典海岸上去啦！这是个奇迹！”
　　“冲到岸上去的？见鬼！”约塞连大声说，他在屋里蹦来蹦去，欣喜若狂地冲着墙壁、冲着天花板、冲着牧师和丹比少校吼叫着。
　　“他不是被冲到瑞典海岸上去的。他是划到那儿去的。他是划到那儿去的，牧师，他是划到那儿去的。”
　　“划到那儿去的？”
　　“他预先就这么计划好的！他是存心去瑞典的。”
　　“噢，这我不管。”牧师依旧热情洋溢地回答说，“这仍然是个奇迹，这是人类智慧和忍耐力所创造的奇迹；瞧瞧，他干出了什么事情来！”牧师伸出双手捂往脑袋，笑得弯下了腰，“你们难道想象不出来他的样子吗？”他惊奇地叫道，“你们难道想象不出来他的样子？坐在黄色的救生艇里，握着那把小小的蓝色船桨，趁着黑夜划过直布罗陀海峡——”
　　“身后拖着那根钓鱼线，一路上吃着生鳕鱼划到瑞典，每天下午还给自己泡茶喝。”
　　“我甚至能看见他的样子！”牧师大叫道，他停了一下，趁机喘了口气，接着又赞叹下去。“我告诉你们，这是人类不屈不挠的毅力所创造的奇迹；这也正是我从现在起要做的事情。我也要不屈不挠，是的，我要不屈不挠。”
　　“奥尔自始至终都知道自己在干什么！”约塞连欣喜若狂地叫道；他得意洋洋地高高举起两个拳头，似乎想从拳头里面挤压出什么启示来。他猛地转过身面对着丹比少校。“丹比，你这个笨蛋，到底还是有希望的、你难道没看出来吗？甚至克莱文杰也可能还活在那片云彩里面呢，他就藏在那里面一个什么地方，要一直等到安全了才出来。”
　　“你们在说些什么呀？”丹比少校困惑地问，“你们两个在说些什么呀？”
　　“给我弄些酸苹果来，丹比，还有坚果。快去呀，丹比，快去呀。
　　趁着这会儿还来得及，给我弄些酸苹果和七叶树坚果来，给你自己也弄一些。”
　　“七叶树坚果？酸苹果？要这些做什么？”
　　“当然是塞到我们的腮帮子里去咯。”约塞连自责而又绝望地高高扬起两只手臂。“唉，我为什么不听他的呢？我为什么就没有信心呢？”
　　“你疯了吗？”丹比少校惊恐而困惑地问道，“约塞连，请你告诉我你们在讲些什么，好吗？”
　　“丹比，奥尔预先就这么计划好的。你难道不明白吗？他从一开始就是这么打算的。他甚至演习过如何让自己的飞机被击落下来。每次执行飞行任务时，他都要演习一遍。可我竟然不愿意跟他一起飞！唉，我为什么不听他的呢？他叫我跟他一起飞，可我竟然不愿意！丹比，再给我弄些龅牙来，还有装牙的牙套。只要装成一副愚蠢无知的傻瓜模样，就没有人会怀疑你其实是个机灵鬼。所有这些东西我都需要。唉，我为什么不听他的话呢？现在我明白他一直想跟我说什么了，我甚至明白了那个姑娘为什么拿鞋砸他的脑袋。”
　　“为什么？”牧师追问道。
　　约塞连猛地转过身，一把抓住牧师衬衣的前襟，恳求道：“牧师，帮帮我吧！请帮帮我。把我的衣服找来。赶快去找，行吗？我现在就需要它们。”
　　牧师抬起腿就往外走。“好吧，约塞连，我去找。可你的衣服在哪儿呢？我怎么才能拿到它们呢？”
　　“谁要是拦住你不让拿，你就吓唬他们，对他们吹胡子瞪眼睛。
　　牧师，给我把制服拿来！我的衣服肯定在这医院里的某个地方。你这辈子就这么一次，干成件事情吧。”
　　牧师坚定地挺了挺肩膀，又咬了咬牙。“别着急，约塞连。我会给你把制服拿来的。可那个姑娘为什么拿她的鞋砸奥尔的脑袋呢？
　　求你告诉我吧。”
　　“因为是他出钱叫她干的，就为这个！可她打得还不够狠，所以他只好划到瑞典去了。牧师，给我把制服找来，我好离开这个地方。
　　问问达克特护士吧，她会帮你找到的。只要能甩开我，她什么都愿意干的。”
　　“你要去哪儿呀？”牧师冲出房间后，丹比少校担心地问道，“你打算干什么呀？”
　　“我打算逃走，”约塞连用欢快而清晰的嗓音宣布道。他已经拉开了睡衣领口处的扣子。
　　“噢，不。”丹比少校叹息了一声，用两只手掌来来口口地轻轻拍着自己那张汗淋淋的脸。“你不能逃走。你能逃到哪儿去？你能到哪儿去呢？”
　　“去瑞典。”
　　“去瑞典？”丹比少校惊奇地叫道，“你要跑到瑞典去？你疯了吗？”
　　“奥尔已经去了。”
　　“噢，不不，不不，不，”丹比少校恳求道，“不，约塞连，你永远也到不了那儿。你不能跑到瑞典去。你连船都不会划。”
　　“可是，只要你离开这儿后闭上嘴不吭气，找个机会让我搭上一架飞机，我就可以到罗马去。”
　　“可他们会找到你的，”丹比少校固执地争辩道，“会把你抓回来，会更加严厉地惩罚你的。”
　　“这一回，他们要想抓住我可得使出吃奶的力气来。”
　　“他们会使出吃奶的力气来的。就算他们找不到你，你过的将会是一种什么样的日子呀？你永远只能孤零零地一个人呆着，没有任何人会跟你在一起，而且，你随时随地可能会被人出卖。”
　　“我现在就是过的这种日子。”
　　“可你不能就这么背弃你的职责一走了之，”丹比坚持道，“这是一种十分消极的行为，是逃避现实。”
　　约塞连轻快而蔑视地哈哈一笑，又摇了摇头。“我并没有逃离我的职责，我正冲着它跑过去呢，为了救自己的性命而逃走，这根本算不上消极。你当然知道是谁在逃避现实，丹比，对吗？不是我，也不是奥尔。”
　　“牧师，请你跟他谈谈，好吗？他要开小差，他想逃到瑞典去。”
　　“太棒了！”牧师欢呼起来。他得意地把一个装满约塞连衣服的枕套扔到床上。“逃到瑞典去吧，约塞连。我要留在这儿，不屈不挠地坚持下去，是的，我要不屈不挠地坚持下去。每次我遇到卡思卡特上校和科恩中校时，我都要找他们的碴儿，跟他们胡搅蛮缠。我不怕他们，就连德里德尔将军我也敢找他闹事。”
　　“德里德尔将军调走了。”约塞连一边提醒他，一边套上裤子；
　　匆匆忙忙地把衬衣下摆塞进裤腰里。“现在是佩克姆将军当指挥官了。”
　　牧师依旧信心十足地唠叨着，“那么，我就找佩克姆将军闹事，甚至找沙伊斯科普夫将军闹事。你知道我还要于什么吗？我下回见到布莱克上尉时要朝他的鼻子狠揍一拳。是的，我要朝他的鼻子狠揍一拳。我要找个周围有许多人的时候揍他，这样他就没有机会还手了。”
　　“你们两个都疯了吗？”丹比少校抗议道。他内心充满了痛苦、敬畏和恼怒，两只突出的眼球楞睁着。“你们两个是不是都失去理智了？约塞连，听着——”
　　“我告诉你，这是个奇迹，”牧师宣布道，他一手抓住丹比少校的手腕，拾起胳膊肘，拖着他转着圈子跳起华尔兹舞来。“一个真正的奇迹。如果奥尔能划到瑞典去，那我只要不屈不挠地坚持下去、就一定能战胜卡思卡特上校和科恩中校。”
　　“牧师，请你住嘴好吗？”丹比少校一边有礼貌地恳求着，一边从牧师手里挣脱出来，焦虑不安地轻轻拍了几下自己那汗淋淋的前额。随后，他俯下身去对正在伸手拿鞋子的约塞连说，“可上校那儿——”
　　“他那儿怎么样我才不管呢。”
　　“但这实际上可能会——”
　　“叫他们两人全都见鬼去吧！”
　　“但这实际上可能会帮他们的忙，”丹比少校固执地坚持道，“你想过这一点没有？”
　　“让这两个杂种升官发财去吧，我才不管呢。既然我没有办法阻止他们，我就只能靠开小差来给他们捣捣乱了。现在我有我自己的职责，丹比、我一定要到瑞典去。”
　　“你绝不会成功的，这是不可能的。从这儿跑到瑞典，单从地理上讲，就几乎是不可能的。”
　　“见鬼，这我知道，丹比。可我至少得试一试。在罗马有个小女孩，要是我能找到她、我想把她救出来。要是我能找到她，我就把她带到瑞典去。所以、这并不完全是为了我自己，不是吗？”
　　“你绝对是疯了。你的良心将使你永远不得安宁。”
　　“上帝保佑我的良心吧。”约塞连哈哈大笑。“我要是没有什么担惊受怕的事情就觉得活不下去了。对吗，牧师？”
　　“我下回见到布莱克上尉时要朝他的鼻子狠揍一拳，”牧师得意地说。他先伸出左臂往空中打了两拳，又像翻晒干草一样笨拙地挥了挥右臂。“就像这样。”
　　“可这不是丢脸的事情吗？”
　　“什么丢脸的事情？我现在这个样子才更丢人现眼呢。”约塞连把第二根鞋带结结实实地系好后，一下子跳了起来。“喂，丹比，我准备走啦。你看怎么样？请你闭上嘴不吭气，让我搭上一架飞机好吗？”
　　丹比少校默默地打量着约塞连，他的脸上浮现出一丝奇怪而凄惨的微笑。他已经不再出汗了，显得十分镇定。“要是我真的阻拦你，你会怎么办？”他用悲哀的嘲弄口吻问道，“狠狠揍我一顿吗？”
　　听到这句问话，约塞连吃了一惊，觉得自尊心受到了伤害。
　　“不，当然不。你为什么这样说呢？”
　　“我要狠狠揍你一顿，”牧师夸耀地说。他一步跳到丹比少校跟前，摆出挥拳格斗的架势。“我要狠狠地揍你和布莱克上尉一顿，可能还要揍惠特科姆中士一顿。如果我发现我再也不必害怕惠特科姆中士了，那不是太妙了吗？”
　　“你打算阻拦我吗？”约塞连紧紧盯住丹比少校问。
　　丹比少校从牧师面前跳到一旁，犹豫了片刻之后脱口说道：
　　“不，当然不！”他突然急切而有力地朝着门口的方向挥了挥两只手臂。“我当然不会阻拦你。走吧，看在上帝的分上，赶快走吧！你需要钱吗？”
　　“我有点钱。”
　　“喏，我这儿还有些钱，”丹比少校热情洋溢，激动万分。他掏出厚厚一叠意大利钞票塞给约塞连，又用双手紧紧握住约塞连的一只手，既是为了给约塞连鼓劲，也是为了使自己的手指不再颤抖。
　　“这个时候住在瑞典一定是很惬意的，”他羡慕地说，“那儿的姑娘非常可爱，那儿的人们非常开明。”
　　“再见，约塞连，”牧师告别说，“祝你好运。我要在这儿不屈不挠地坚持下去，战争结束后我们会再见面的。”
　　“再见，牧师。谢谢你，丹比。”
　　“你觉得怎么样，约塞连？”
　　“很好，不，我很害怕。”
　　“这才对头，”丹比少校说，“那说明你还活着，因为那不会是什么好玩的事。”
　　约塞连往外走去。“不，是挺好玩的。”
　　“我说的是真话，约塞连。你每天每时每刻都要保持警惕。他们会撒下天罗地网抓你的。”
　　“我时时刻刻都会保待警惕的。”
　　“你得赶快跑。”
　　“我是要赶快跑的。”
　　“赶快跑吧！”丹比少校叫道。
　　约塞连跑了出去。内特利的妓女就藏在门外。她举刀砍了下去，差一点砍到他。约塞连跑走了。


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