卡思卡特上校不再想有关牧师的任何事情，但是，他被一个全新的，可怕的问题缠绕着：尤塞瑞恩！
尤塞瑞恩！只要一提起这个令人讨厌、丑陋的名字，卡思卡特上校 就会血液冰凉、呼吸困难而费力。牧师第一次提到尤塞瑞恩这个名字时，那就像在他的记忆深处敲响了一面预示不祥之兆的铜锣。门栓喀哒一声，门关上了，他脑海里立刻涌出的是使他感到羞辱的记忆，队伍里的那个赤身裸体的军官那些刺痛他的细节，像令人痛苦、窒息的潮水，劈头盖脸地向他袭来。他开始浑身冒汗、发抖。这是个糟糕透了的、不大可能的巧合， 它是个可怕的征兆,狰狞可怖。那天，那个站在队伍中一丝不挂地从骓斗将军手里接过优秀飞行十字勋章的军官也叫尤塞瑞恩！现在，卡思卡特上校刚刚下达命令，要他的飞行大队的官兵飞行六十次。可又有一个叫尤塞瑞恩的人威胁说要同这道命令过不去。卡思卡特上校郁闷地想要知道，这会不会是同一个尤塞瑞恩。
他吃力地站起身来，带著一副难以忍受的神情，在办公室里踱步。他觉得自己的面前的这个人是个神秘人物。他坦承，队伍中那个一丝不挂的军官让他丢人现眼。就像轰炸线在空袭博洛尼亚之前被人篡改，轰炸弗拉拉的大桥的任务被拖延了七天那样，使他丢人现眼。好在弗拉拉大桥最终被炸毁了，这也算是他的一个荣耀，他回想起来，心里便乐滋滋的。不过，二次轰炸时损失了一架飞机，却是件丢脸的事，一想到这里，他又很泄气；由于一个投弹手胆怯，不得不两次飞抵目标，这给他丢了脸。然而他却请求并获准，为那个投弹手颁发了勋章，这又使他感到出彩。他突然想到，那个投弹手也叫尤塞瑞恩。有三个尤塞瑞恩！此时此刻,他竟惊愕地说不出话来，那双淌著粘液的眼睛因惊愕而胀得鼓鼓的，他焦急地转过身去,看身后发生了什么。片刻之前，他的生活中根本没有什么尤塞瑞恩。 可现在，他们就像妖怪似的越变越多。他努力使自己保持平静。尤塞瑞恩不过是个普通的名字。事实上。也许尤塞瑞恩只有两个，并没有三个，甚至可能只有一个。 然而，这确实没什么区别！直觉在警示他: 他正接近某种巨大莫测的宇宙顶点,处于严重的危险之中。一想到那个尤塞瑞恩不管是谁，将注定会成为他的复仇者，他那宽厚、肥胖、高大的身躯，从头到脚哆嗦起来。
卡思卡特上校并不迷信，但他确实相信预兆。于是，他在办公桌后坐了下来，在自己的活页记事本上做了个秘密的符号，便开始研究有关尤塞瑞恩的整个可疑的事件。他用粗重、果断的笔迹为自己写下了提示，在提示后醒目地画上一连串密码似的标点符号，然后在整个信息下画上两道横线，如下：
尤塞瑞恩！！！（？）！
上校写完后，靠向椅背,感到非常满意，因为他刚才采取了迅速的行动来应付这一凶兆带来的危机。 尤塞瑞恩--这个让他看见就发抖的名字,里面竟有那么多的S字母。它一定具有颠覆性，就像颠覆 (subversive) 这个词本身一样。它也像煽动 (seditious) 和阴险 (insidious) 这两个词，像社会主义者 (socialist) 、多疑 (suspicious)、法西斯分子 (fascist) 和共产主义者(communist) 这些词。这是一个可僧的、异国的，令人厌恶的名字，一个引不起人们信任的名字。它一点也不像卡思卡特、佩克姆和骓斗这些干净、利落、诚实的美国名字。
卡思卡特上校慢慢地站起来、开始在办公室里踱起步来。他几乎无意识地从一筐红色梨形番茄的上面拿起一只番茄，狠狠地咬了一大口。顿时， 他的脸变得扭曲了起来。他把剩下的番茄扔进了废纸篓。上校不喜欢吃红色梨形番茄，即使是他自己的番茄，他也不喜欢。而这些番茄并不是他自己的。这些番茄是科恩中校从遍布皮亚诺萨岛的各个市场上以不同的名义买来的，然后，半夜里把它们搬到上校在山上的农舍里，第二天早晨再运到大队司令部，卖给米洛。由米洛付给卡思卡特上校和科恩中校一些佣金。卡思卡特上校时常怀疑他们这样倒卖番茄是否合法，但科恩中校说这事合法，于是他尽力不太去考虑这合不合法。
卡思卡特上校也无法知道他山上的房子合不合法，因为那也是由科恩中校一手操办的。卡思卡特上校对他是否买下了那房子的产权，或者只是租用，从谁手中买下的，付了多少钱等，一概不知。科恩中校是律师，如果科恩中校跟他说欺骗，敲诈，盗用现金，贪污，偷漏所得税和黑市投机是合法的，卡思卡特上校也不能不同意。 关于他在山上的那所房子，卡思卡特上校所知道的一切就是，他有这么一所房子，而且讨厌它，他每隔一周去那儿呆上两三天。实际上，没有什么比呆在那儿更让他厌烦， 但卡思卡特上校为的是给人一种错觉，即他山上的那所潮湿、漏风的石头墙农舍是个寻欢作乐，肉体愉悦的金碧宫殿。所有的军官俱乐部里充斥著含糊不清但熟悉的故事，谈论著山上的那所房子里的奢侈华丽，狂饮乱嫖的之事，谈论在那里与那些最漂亮、最惹人、最容易被撩动、也最容易满足的意大利名妓、电影明星、模特儿和伯爵夫人幽会的销魂之夜。 但实际上，这样的令人销魂的幽会之夜或见不得人的狂饮乱嫖之事从未在那所房子里发生过。假如 骓斗将军或佩克姆将军哪怕有一次表示过有兴趣同他一起参加狂欢，这些事情也许就有可能发生。 可他们两位谁也不曾表示过这种兴趣。因此，上校当然不会花时间与精力去同漂亮女人寻欢作乐，除非那样做对他升官发财有什么好处。
上校害怕在农场的房子里度过那些潮湿、寂寞的夜晚和沉闷、单调的白昼。他在飞行大队有更多的兴趣，， 对他不惧怕的队里的任何人吹胡子瞪眼睛。但是，正如科恩中校时常提醒他的那样，假如他从不去住，那么在山上拥有一所农舍就没有多大魅力。他每次开车去他的农舍时都顾影自伶；在吉普车里，带著一支猎枪，用它打鸟，打红色梨形番茄，以此来消磨那单调无聊的时光。那儿确实种了一些红色梨形番茄，一行行歪七扭八的，无人照料，摘起来也太麻烦。
卡思卡特上校依然认为有必要对某些下级军官，表示出一点敬意，尽管他不愿意，也没有把握是不是非得把德·科弗利少校包括在内，但他还是把他包括了进去。对他来说，德·科弗利少校是个极为神秘的人物，就像对巨牛少校和其他所有曾注意过他的人来说， 他本人也很神秘那样。对于德·科弗利少校，卡思卡特上校不知道该持什么态度，是尊敬还是蔑视。尽管德·科弗利少校比卡思卡特上校要年长许多，但他只不过是个少校。不过，许许多多其他的人如此尊敬、敬畏甚至害怕德·科弗利少校，因此，卡思卡特上校觉得他们也许都知道些什么事情。德·科弗利少校是个不吉利的、不可思议的人物，他使卡思卡特上校常常坐立不安，就连科恩中校也得提防他；每个人都害怕他，但谁也不知道为什么。甚至没有一个人知道德·科弗利少校的名字是什么，因为从来没有人敢冒冒失失地去问他。卡思卡特上校得知德·科弗利少校外出了。他不在，上校很高兴，可他又想到德·科弗利少校也许在什么地方阴谋反对他，于是，他又希望德·科弗利少校回到他所属的中队，那样他就处于他的监视中。
不一会儿，由于来回走动过多，卡思卡特上校的两只脚疼痛起来。他重又在办公桌后坐下，下决心对整个军事形势作出周密而系统的评估。象生意场上通晓如何做事的人们那样，他找出了一大本白拍纸，在纸正中划了一道竖线，然后， 靠着竖线，在纸上划了一道横线，将它分成两个等宽的空白栏。他停下来，考虑一些关键问题。然后，伏在桌上，在左边一栏的顶端用拘谨而讲究的笔迹写上：“坏名声！！！”在右边一栏的顶端写上：“荣誉！！！”他再次靠向椅背，客观地检查自己画的图，带著赞赏的神色。慎重考虑了几秒钟，他又小心翼翼地舔了舔铅笔尖，在“坏名声！！！”一栏下写了起来，每写完一项都要停下来思虑一番：
弗拉拉
博洛尼亚（轰炸期间轰炸线在地图上被篡改）
双向飞碟射击场
队伍中的那个裸体军官（轰炸阿维尼翁之后）
然后他补充写道：
食物中毒（轰炸博洛格那期间）
再写上：
呻吟（下达轰炸阿维尼翁简命令时部队出现的流行病）
然后又加上：
牧师（每晚在军官俱乐部里逗留）
尽管他不喜欢牧师，但他还是决定对牧师宽宏大量，于是在“荣誉！！！”一栏下写上：
牧师（每晚在军官俱乐部里逗留）
这样，关于牧师的两条记录就互相抵消了。在弗拉拉和队伍中有个赤裸著身体的军官（轰炸阿维尼翁之后）这两条的旁边，他又写上：
尤塞瑞恩！
在博洛格那（轰炸期间轰炸线在地图上被篡改了），食物中毒（轰炸博洛尼亚期间）和呻吟声（下达轰炸阿维尼翁命令时军中的流行病）这三条旁边，他果断地打上了醒目粗大的“？”
那些打上了“？”的标题是他要立刻着手调查的事件，为的是确定尤塞瑞恩是否参与了这些事件。
突然，他手臂抖了起来，不能再写下去。他惊恐地站起身，感到手脚迟钝、不灵活。他急忙冲到敞开著的窗户旁，大口地呼吸著新鲜空气。他的目光落在了双向飞碟射击场上。一阵昏眩，他痛苦地尖叫了一声，两只狂乱、通红的眼睛疯狂地在办公室的墙壁上扫视着，仿佛那上面挤满了尤塞瑞恩。
没有人钟爱他。骓斗将军恨他。尽管佩克姆将军喜欢他， 不过，他不能肯定佩克姆将军喜欢他，因为佩克姆将军的副官卡吉尔上校无疑有自己的野心，一有机会，他就可能在佩克姆将军面前说他的坏话。他断定，除了他自己之外，唯一的一名好上校是那位过世的上校。在上校中，他唯一信赖的是穆达士上校，但即便穆达士上校也是靠他岳父提携的。米洛当然是他的骄傲， 尽管他的大队被米洛的飞机轰炸一事或许是个耻辱。即便米洛向大家透露，辛迪卡同敌军的交易取得了巨额纯利润，这最终平息了所有的异议，还使每个人相信，从私营企业的角度，轰炸自己人和飞机的确值得褒奖， 有利可图。上校对米洛不十分放心，因为其他上校正竭力想把他诱走。此外，卡思卡特上校的飞行大队里有个讨厌的一级准尉大个怀特·哈尔福特。据那个又讨厌又懒惰的布莱克上尉说，一级准尉大个怀特·哈尔福特实际上应对博洛格那大围攻期间轰炸线的篡改负责。卡思卡特上校之所以喜欢一级准尉大个怀待·哈尔福特，是因为每次他喝醉了酒， 只要看见穆达士上校在场，就会不停地狠揍那个讨厌的穆达士上校的鼻子。他希望一级准尉大个怀特·哈尔福特也会狠揍科恩中校的胖脸。科恩中校是个讨厌的、自作聪明的家伙。第二十六空军司令部里有个人对他怀恨在心，在他写的每份报告都签上训斥的批示，再退回来。科恩中校买通了司令部里一个名叫温特格林的精明的邮件管理员，去搞清楚那人是谁。他不得不承认，第二次轰炸弗拉拉时损失一架飞机对他没什么好处，另一架飞机在云层中失踪也同样不会对他有益--他甚至忘了把这件事记下来。他带著渴望的神情,极力想记起是否尤塞瑞恩同那架在云层里的飞机一起失踪了，但很快他便意识到，尤塞瑞恩没有同那架飞机一起失踪， 因为要是尤塞瑞恩还在这儿吵闹着再飞五次便完成了讨厌的飞行任务，他便不可能同那架飞机一起失踪。
卡思卡特上校理智地认为，如果尤塞瑞恩反对飞六十次，那么六十次的飞行任务对那些官兵来说或许是多了些。然而，他随后认为，强迫他自己的部下去执行比别人更多的飞行任务是他所取得的最显著的成绩。正如科恩中校常说的那样，战争中，执行命令的飞行大队长到处都是，因此，要突出自己独一无二的领导才能，必需采取某种富有戏剧性的姿态。比如。要求自己的大队去执行比其他任何轰炸机大队多的战斗飞行任务。当然，没有一位将军中似乎反对他的做法。但就他的观察，将军们对此也没有什么特别深的印象。这使他觉得也许六十次战斗飞行任务还远远不够，他应该立刻把飞行次数提到七十、八十、一百，甚至二百、三百，或者六千次！
毫无疑问，在文雅、和蔼的佩克姆将军手下做事要比在粗鲁、迟钝的骓斗将军手下做事的处境好得多，因为尽管佩克姆将军从未丝毫表示过他赏识或喜欢他，但佩克姆将军有眼力，有天赋，受过常春藤大学的教育，能充分了解他的价值，赏识他的能力。卡思卡特上校敏锐的洞察力使他认识到，阅历丰富而又十分自信的自己和佩克姆将军之间从不需要明确地表示对对方的承认。他们生来就互相了解，离得很远也能互相产生好感。他们属于同一类人，这就足够了，他知道升迁只是个时机问题，他得小心谨慎地等待。不过，他又注意到佩克姆将军从未特别看中他，也从不煞费苦心地, 像对他周围的人，甚至士兵一样, 给卡思卡特上校留下满腹经纶和学识渊博的印象。要么就是卡思卡特上校的心思，没有传到佩克姆将军耳朵里，要么就是佩克姆将军不是那个假装出来的才智横溢、辨别力强、文质彬彬、具有远见卓识的人；而骓斗将军的确是个敏锐、可爱、才华横溢、阅历丰富的人，在他的手下,上校的处境肯定会好得多. 突然，卡思卡特上校对众人是否支持他感到一无所知，于是他用拳头打起铃来，叫科恩中校速到他的办公室来，向他保证，每一个人都爱他，而他在为成为将军而进行的英勇、辉煌的战役中正取得惊人的进展。尤塞瑞恩只是他在想象中虚构出来的人物。
事实上，卡思卡特上校根本没有机会成为将军。一方面是因为有个叫温特格林的前一等兵，也想当将军，于是对任何可能给卡思卡特上校带来声誉的信函，无论是卡思卡特上校本人写的，还是别人写给卡思卡特上校的或是有关卡思卡特上校的：他一概加以歪曲、销毁、拒投或者写错投递地址；另一方面，是因为已经有了一个将军，即骓斗将军，骓斗知道佩克姆将军在觊觎他的位子但又不知道如何阻止他。
联队司令骓斗将军五十岁出头，他粗率迟钝、身材矮胖、胸部圆得像水桶。他的鼻子又短又阔、红乎乎的，肥胖、苍白、凸起的眼睑像咸肥肉似的一圈圈围著他那对灰色的小眼睛。他有个护士和女婿跟著他。没有喝醉酒时，他习惯于长时间沉默不语。骓斗将军为把部队的工作搞好，浪费了太多的时间，现在已为时太晚了。新的权力联盟已经形成，而将他排除在外，他简直不知如何去应付。稍不留神，他那张冷峻、阴沉的脸就会因失败和挫折而变得闷闷不乐、心事重重。骓斗将军以酒浇愁。他的情绪反复无常、难以捉摸。“战争是个地狱。”无论喝醉了还是清醒， 他常常这样说。而且他心里也真的是这么想的，然而这并不妨碍他靠战争谋得高官厚禄，也不妨碍他把女婿拉进军队同他在一起，尽管翁婿两人常常争吵。
“那个杂种，”在军官俱乐部里那张曲线形吧台前,无论谁碰巧站在他旁边，他都会这样轻蔑地咕哝，抱怨自己的女婿。 “他能有这一切全亏了我。他是靠了我发迹的，这个狗娘养的混帐！他还嫩著呢，不能独自混出个样子来。”
“他以为他什么都知道。”在吧台的另一头，穆达士上校总会用气愤的语气向他周围的人反驳他的岳父。“他不接受批评，也不愿听别人的忠告。”
“他所能做的一切就是给别人忠告，”骓斗将军总会粗声粗气地哼著鼻子说，“要不是我，他现在还只是个下士。” 骓斗将军总是由穆达士上校和他的护士陪著。那护士可是个美人儿，见过她的人都认为她比见过的任何漂亮女人都毫不逊色。骓斗将军的护士身材小巧，圆圆的脸上生著一对快乐的蓝眼睛，丰满的双颊上有两个小酒窝，一头金色的卷发下边向上卷起，梳得整整齐齐。她逢人便露出微笑，却从不开口说话，除非有人跟她说话才应酬几句。她胸脯丰满，皮肤雪白。她的媚力是难以抗拒的，男人们总是目不转睛地侧著身子慢慢地从她身旁走开。她丰满娇艳、甜美温顺、沉默寡言，弄得除了骓斗将军之外所有的人，都如痴如醉。
“你该看看她光著身子是什么样子，”骓斗将军用沙哑的嗓门津津有味地笑着说，而此时他的护士就站在他的肩旁得意地微笑着。“在联队我的房间里，有她的一件用紫红色丝绸做的制服，那衣服太小，她的两个乳头鼓得老高，像两只大樱桃似的。是米洛给我弄来的衣料。那制服小得里面连短裤和胸罩都不能穿。有几个晚上穆达士在这儿时，我让她穿上那制服，撩得他魂不守舍。”骓斗将军放开沙哑的嗓子哈哈大笑。“要是你能看见她每次挪动身体时她那件衣裳里面的情景才妙呢。她把他弄得神魂颠倒。只要我抓到他向她或其他别的女人伸一伸手，我就立刻把这个好色的杂种一下子降为列兵，让他当一年炊事兵。”
“他让她在我身边转悠，就是想把我撩得魂不守舍，”穆达士上校在吧台的另一头愤愤不平地说，“在联队里，她有一件用紫红色丝绸做的制服，那衣服太小，她的两个乳头鼓得老高，像两只大樱桃似的。那制服小得里面连短裤和胸罩都不能穿。要是你能听见她每次挪动身体时那绸衣服发出的沙沙声就好啦。要是我对她或其他别的姑娘有什么非礼的举动，他就会把我一下子降为列兵，让我当一年炊事兵。她撩得我神魂颠倒。”
“自从我们到海外以来，他还没有和女人上过床呢。”骓斗将军吐露了秘密。一想到这个恶毒的主意，他就像个性虐待狂似的大笑起来，他那四四方方、满头灰白头发的脑袋也随著笑声直晃悠。“我之所以不让他呆在我看不见的地方，这就是其中一个原因，这样他就不能去找女人。你能想象出这个可伶的狗娘养的有多难过吗？”
“自从我们到海外以来，我还没有和女人上过床呢，”穆达士上校眼泪汪汪地抱怨说，“你能想象出我有多难过吗？”
骓斗将军生气的时候，对任何人都会寸步不让,像对穆达士上校那样。他不喜欢装假、圆滑、做作。作为职业军人，他的信条是，始终如一，简单明了。他认为接受他命令的年轻军人应该心甘情愿地为了这位向他们发布命令的老军人的理想、抱负和特有的风格献出自己的生命。对他而言，他手下的军官和士兵都只是军人。他所要求的就是他们做好自己的工作，除此之外，他们可以随心所欲，想干什么就干什么。只要愿意，他们可以像卡思卡特上校那样强迫他们的部下执行六十次飞行任务；只要乐意，他们也可以像尤塞瑞恩那样一丝不挂地站在队列里，尽管当时一看到这一情景，骓斗将军那花岗岩似的下巴一下子张了开来。他专横而傲慢地大步沿著队伍走过去，想看清楚队伍中是不是真的有个人浑身一丝不挂，只穿了双皮鞋立正站在那儿，等著他颁发勋章。骓斗将军一句话也没说。卡思卡特上校发现骓斗时，差点昏过去。 科恩中校快步走到他身后，一把抓住他的一只手臂。接著是一阵静得出奇的沉默。温暖的海风不停地从海滨吹来，一头黑毛驴拉著一辆装满了脏草的旧马车在大路上辘辘驶过，赶车的农夫头戴一顶帽檐低垂的帽子，身穿一套褪了色的棕褐色工作服，他对右边那一小块场地上正在举行的正式军事仪式毫不在意。
最后，骓斗将军说话了。“回到汽车里去，”他转过头对跟在他身后的护士厉声说道。护士带著微笑蹦蹦颠颠地朝将军的那辆深褐色军用汽车走去。汽车停在约二十码之外那块长方形空地的边上。骓斗将军带著严厉的表情静静地等著，直到他听见车门砰的一声关上后才问道：“这人是谁？”
穆达士上校查看了一下名册。“这个人叫尤塞瑞恩，爹。他获得了一枚优异飞行十字勋章。”
“唉；真该死，”骓斗将军嘟哝著说，由于觉得有趣，他那血红色的石板似的脸上露出了温和的神色。
“你为什么不穿衣服，尤塞瑞恩？”
“我不想穿。”
“你说不想穿是什么意思？你究竟为什么不想穿？”
“我只是不想穿，长官。”
“他为什么不穿衣服？”骓斗将军回过头来问卡思卡特上校。
“他在跟你说话，”科恩中校从后面贴著卡思卡特上校的肩膀小声对他说道，一边用胳膊肘猛地捅了一下他的背。
“他为什么不穿衣服？”卡思卡特上校带著极度痛苦的表情问科恩中校，一面轻揉著刚才被科恩中校捅过的地方。
“他为什么不穿衣服？”科恩中校问皮尔查德上尉和雷恩上尉。
“他的飞机里有个士兵上周在阿维尼翁上空被打死了，溅得他浑身上下都是血，”雷恩上尉回答说，“他发誓再也不穿军装了。”
“他的飞机里有个士兵上周在阿维尼翁上空被打死了，溅得他浑身上下都是血，”科恩中校直接向德里德尔将军报告说，“他的制服还在洗衣房里。”
“他的其他制服呢？”
“也都在洗衣房里。”
“他的内衣呢？”骓斗将军问道。
“他的所有内衣也都在洗衣房里，”科恩中校答道。
“这些话我听起来好像是一大堆胡说八道，”骓斗将军断言道。
“是一大堆胡说八道，长官，”尤塞瑞恩说。
“请别担心，长官，”卡思卡特上校向骓斗将军保证说，一边狠狠地瞪了尤塞瑞恩一眼。“我亲口向您保证，这个人会受到严厉的惩罚的。”
“我干吗要在乎他会不会受到惩罚？”骓斗将军又惊奇又气愤地回他一句。“他刚刚得到一枚勋章。如果他愿意不穿衣服接受勋章，那又关你什么屁事？”
“这正是我的意思，长官！”卡思卡特上校以毫不含糊的热情附和道，一边说一边用潮湿的白手帕擦额头的汗水。“但是，长官，如果按照佩克姆将军最近发布的关于在战区应著合适军装的备忘录的精神，您还会那么说吗？”
“佩克姆？”骓斗将军的脸色阴沉了下来。
“是的，长官，长官，”卡思卡特上校奉承他说，“佩克姆将军甚至建议我们让官兵穿着军礼服去作战，这样，他们被击落时会给敌军留下一个好印象。”
“佩克姆？”骓斗将军重复了一遍，仍旧迷惑不解地斜视著他。“佩克姆与这事到底有什么关系？” 科恩中校又用胳膊肘使劲捣了一下卡思卡特上校的背。
“绝对没有关系，长官！”卡思卡特上校利落地答道，背上疼得要命，只好缩著身子，轻轻地揉著科恩中校刚才又捣过的地方。“正是因为这个原因，我才决定在没有机会同您商量之前，绝对不采取任何行动。我们完全不必理会它，行吗，长官？”
骓斗将军完全不理会他，轻蔑而带著恶意地转过身去，把装在盒子里的勋章递给了尤塞瑞恩。
“把我那个姑娘从车里叫回来。”他怒气冲冲地命令穆达士上校，然后沉着脸低著头呆在原地，等著他的护士来到他的身边。
“立刻命令办公室取消我刚刚下达的我部官兵在执行战斗任务时必须戴领带的那条命令，”卡思卡特上校急切地从嘴边小声对科恩中校说。
“我跟你说不要下这道命令吧，”科恩中校窃笑道，“可你就是不愿听我的。”
“嘘──！”卡思卡特上校警告他说，“该死的，科恩，你捣我的背干吗？”
科恩中校又窃笑起来。
骓斗将军无论去哪里，他的护士总跟著他，甚至在下达轰炸阿维尼翁任务时跟著他进了简令下达室。那天，她带著傻乎乎的微笑站在讲台旁边，她身著上红下绿的制服站在骓斗将军身旁，就像肥沃的绿洲里盛开的一朵鲜花。尤塞瑞恩看着她，疯狂地爱上了她。他情绪低沉，内心感到空虚、麻木。他坐在那里，一面听著丹比少校用单调沉闷的男低音以教训人的口气描绘在阿维尼翁等著他们的密集的高射炮火，一面垂涎欲滴地盯著她那丰满的红嘴唇和长著酒窝的脸。一想到他也许再也见不到这个可爱的女人了，而他现在无限深情地爱上了她，但还没有和她说过一句话，他突然万分绝望地呻吟起来。当他凝神看着她时，由于伤心、害怕和渴望，他浑身颤抖、疼痛。她是那么美丽。他崇拜她脚下的那块土地。他用黏糊糊的舌头舔了舔他那干枯的嘴唇，又痛苦地哼起来，这次哼得声音比较响，吸引了他周围那些穿着深褐色工作服、系著白色降落伞带、坐在一排排粗糙的木条凳上的人。他们用吃惊、搜寻的目光向他这边张望着。
内特利惊慌地匆忙转向他。“怎么啦？”他低声问，“怎么回事？”
尤塞瑞恩没听见他说话。他情欲难熬，内心烦乱，又很遗憾，变得痴迷不醒。骓斗将军的护士只是稍有些丰满。尤塞瑞恩的头脑里充满了奇想：她那闪闪发光的金发、他未曾握过的纤纤素手、那领口敞开著的粉红色衬衫里面圆滚滚的、他从未摸过的妙龄女郎的乳房，还有她那光滑的草绿色华达呢紧身军短裤下肚皮和大腿交汇处晃动著的、成熟的三角形腹肌。他贪婪地陶醉于她，从她的头一直到她那涂了颜色的脚趾。他决不想失去她。“哎哎哎哎哎哎哟。”他又哼起来。这次，整屋子的人都被他那颤抖著拉长了的呻吟声惊动了。一股吃惊、不安的感觉袭向讲台上的军官们，甚至正在给大家对表的丹比少校也一时分了神。他正在数秒，几乎得重新开始。内特利顺著尤塞瑞恩被钉住了似的目光一直看到长长的木板礼堂那头，直到他看见骓斗将军的护士。当他猜到了是什么在折磨著尤塞瑞恩时，他吓得浑身发抖，脸色苍白。
“别哼了，行吗？”内特利压低嗓门小声警告他说。
“哎哎哎哎哎哎哎哎哎哎哟。”尤塞瑞恩第四次哼了起来，这次声音大得所有的人都能听得清清楚楚.
“你疯了吗？”内特利使劲用嘘声说，“你会有麻烦的。”
“哎哎哎哎哎哎哎哎哎哎哟。”邓巴从房间的另一头附和著尤塞瑞恩。
内特利听出是邓巴的声音。现在局面已经失去了控制，他转过身去，轻轻地哼了一声：“哎哎哟。” “哎哎哎哎哎哎哎哎哎哎哟。”邓巴附和地哼起来。
“哎哎哎哎哎哎哎哎哎哎哟。”当内特利意识到自己刚才哼了一声时，便恼怒地大声呻吟起来。
“哎哎哎哎哎哎哎哎哎哎哟。”邓巴又回应他哼起来。
“哎哎哎哎哎哎哎哎哎哎哟。”一个新的声音从屋子的另一端加入进来，内特利的毛发都竖了起来.
尤塞瑞恩和邓巴两人都附和著哼起来，而内特利却缩起了身子，徒劳地向四下打量，想找个洞，带著尤塞瑞恩一起藏起来。有几个人在强忍住笑。一阵想捣蛋的冲动支配了内特利，当没有人哼哼时，他就故意哼一声。又一个新的声音附和起来。这种不服从上司的做法趣味无穷。内特利趁无人呻吟的间隙又故意挤出一声哼哼。又有一个新的声音响应了他。屋子里一片喧闹，不可收拾，像精神病院似的。有的人怪声尖叫，有的人用脚在地上拖，有的人把东西丢到地上──铅笔、计算器、地图盒，以及敲得丁当作响的防空钢帽。一些未发哼声的人此刻公开地咯咯笑起来。假如不是德里德尔将军亲自出来平息这场喧闹，谁也说不准这自发的呻吟造反行动会闹到什么地步。德里德尔将军坚决地走到讲台中央，走到丹比少校的正前方。丹比少校低著他那颗认真严肃、不屈不挠的头，仍全神贯注地看着表念著： “──二十五秒──二十──十五──” 骓斗将军那张宽大、通红、盛气凌人的脸上露出困惑不解的神色和令人生畏的决心。
“别闹了，弟兄们，”他简要地命令道。他的眼睛里闪烁著不赞同的眼光，他那四四方方的下巴显得很坚定。“我领导著一支战斗部队，”他语气严厉地对他们说，这时屋子里已变得一片肃静，坐在凳子上的人都吓得直哆嗦。“只要我还是司令，这个大队里就不准再有人呻吟。听明白了吗？”
所有的人都明白了，唯有丹比少校除外，因为他还在聚精会神地看着他手腕上的表，大声倒数著秒数。“──四──三── 二──时间到！”丹比少校喊道，说完带著完成任务后的喜悦心情抬起头，却发现没有人在听他的，因此他还得再数一遍。“哎哎哎哎哟。”他失望地哼了一声。
“怎么回事？” 骓斗将军难以相信地吼了起来，他勃然大怒，杀气腾腾，一下子转过身看着丹比少校，而少校却被吓得慌了神，踉踉跄跄地倒退了几步，开始发抖，冒冷汗。“这个人是谁？”
“丹比少──少校，长官，”卡思卡特上校结结巴巴地回答说，“我的大队作战参谋。”
“把他拉出去枪毙，” 骓斗将军命令道。
“长──长官？”
“我说把他拉出去枪毙。你听不见吗？”
“遵命，长官！”卡思卡特上校强忍住自己的感情，口气干脆地答道，然后迅速转向他的司机和气象员。
“把丹比少校拉出去枪毙。”
“长──长官？”他的司机和气象员结结巴巴地问。
“我说把丹比少校拉出去枪毙，”卡思卡特上校厉声说道，“难道你们听不见吗？”
两个年轻的中尉机械地点点头，但都不愿意动手，两人不知所措，有气无力地你看看我，我看看你，等著对方先动手把丹比少校拉出去枪毙。他俩以前谁也没有把丹比少校拉出去枪毙过。他俩犹豫不决地从不同方向慢慢挪向丹比少校。丹比少校吓得脸色苍白。 突然，他两腿一软，向下倒去，两个年轻的中尉冲上前去，一人架住一只胳膊抓住他，使他不致倒在地上。现在他们既然已经抓住了丹比少校，其余的事似乎就很容易了，但是他们没有枪。丹比少校开始哭起来。卡思卡特上校真想跑到他的身边安慰他几句，但又不想在骓斗将军面前显得婆婆妈妈的。他想到阿普尔比和哈弗迈耶在执行任务时总带著四五口径的自动步枪，于是便开始用目光在一排排的军官中寻找他们。
丹比少校一哭，刚才还在一旁犹豫不决的穆达士上校再也控制不住自己了，他带著一副自我牺牲的神色苦巴巴地、缺乏信心地向 骓斗将军走过去。“我认为你最好等一分钟，爹，”他犹犹豫豫地建议说，“我认为你不能枪毙他。”
他的插话使 骓斗将军勃然大怒。“到底是谁说我不能枪毙他的？”他兴师问罪地怒喝道，声音大得使整个建筑都嘎嘎作响。穆达士上校尴尬得满脸通红，俯身贴近他的耳朵小声说着什么。“我究竟为什么不能枪毙他？” 骓斗将军吼道。穆达士上校又小声说了几句。“你是说我不能想枪毙谁就枪毙谁？” 骓斗将军用不妥协的愤怒口气问道。但当穆达士上校继续小声说下去时， 骓斗将军竖起了耳朵，来了兴趣。“那是真的吗？”他问道，满腹怒气也由于好奇消了许多。
“是的，爹。恐怕是的。”
“我想，你以为你他娘的精明绝顶，是吧？” 骓斗将军突然痛斥起穆达士上校来。
穆达士上校的脸又涨得绯红。“不是，爹，这不是──”
“好吧，把那个违抗上司的狗狼养的放掉，” 骓斗将军厉声说，一边恶狠狠地从他女婿那边转过身来，怒气冲冲地对著卡思卡特上校的司机和卡思卡特上校的气象员吼道：“但是要把他赶出这所房子，让他呆在外面。让咱们继续下达这个该死的简令吧，要不战争就要结束了。我从未见过这么多无能鼠辈。”
卡思卡特上校机械地向德里德尔将军点了点头，急忙向他手下打了个手势，让他们把丹比少校推到屋外去。然而，当丹比少校被推出去后，却没有人来继续下达简令。大家面面相腼，又吃惊又不知如何是好。 骓斗将军见到大家都愣著不动，气得脸色发紫。卡思卡特上校也不知该怎么办。他刚要开始大声哼哼，这时科恩中校走上前来，帮他控制住了局面。卡思卡特上校噙住泪水，万分欣慰地舒了一口气，感激的心情几乎不知如何表达。
“现在，弟兄们，我们来对表。”科恩中校以敏捷、威严的神态迅速发号施令起来，两只眼睛讨好地朝著 骓斗将军那个方向骨碌碌转个不停。“我们将对一次表，只对一次，如果一次对不好， 骓斗将军和我将要查一查是什么原因。明白了吗？”他的两眼又转向 骓斗将军，想弄清楚他的这番话是否给将军留下了印象。“现在把你们的表拨到九点十八分。”
科恩中校十分顺利地给大家对好了表，然后信心十足地继续下去。他把当天的指令交待给了大家，又把天气情况说了一下，显得灵活、事事精通但却华而不实。他发觉他正给 骓斗将军留下极好的印象，因此他每隔几秒钟就傻笑着瞟一眼 骓斗将军，从他那儿得到越来越大的鼓舞。他来了劲头，神气活现地整了整衣冠，昂首阔步地在讲台上走来走去，虚荣心十足。他把当天的指令又给大家交待了一遍，然后巧妙地转入鼓舞士气的战前动员，大谈轰炸阿维尼翁大桥对于赢得这场战争是如何重要以及执行任务的每一个人都应该把热爱祖国放在热爱生命之上。他把这番激励士气的宏论讲完后，又把当天的指令给大家说了一遍，强调了进攻的角度，随后又说了一下天气情况。科恩中校觉得自己拥有至高无上的权威。他已经成了大人物了。
卡思卡特上校慢慢明白过来，当他悟出了个中原因时，他气得目瞪口呆。他妒忌地望着科恩中校继续推行他的鬼计，他的脸拉得越来越长。当 骓斗将军走到他身边时，他简直不敢听他要说什么。将军用整个屋子里的人都能听见的耳语问他：
“那个人是谁？”
卡思卡特上校作了回答，心里有一种淡淡的不祥的预兆。接著， 骓斗将军把手握成杯状放在嘴上对他小声说了些什么，使卡思卡特上校的脸上放出无比喜悦的光芒。科恩中校看见后，高兴得难以自制，浑身直抖。他是不是刚才被 骓斗将军在战场上提升为上校了？他无法忍受这种悬念。他专横地把手一挥，结束了下达简令，满怀期望地转过身去，准备接受 骓斗将军的热烈祝贺──将军已经迈著大步，头也不回地向屋外走去，身后尾随著他的护士和穆达士上校。科恩中校看见这种情景，失望得一阵晕眩，但只是很短的一刻。他看见了卡思卡特上校还咧开嘴笑着，笔直地站在那儿出神，于是他兴高采烈地跑过去拉住他的膀子。
“他说了我些什么？”他激动地问道,满怀自豪而又幸福的期望心情，“ 骓斗将军说了些什么？”
“他想知道你是谁？” “我知道这个。我知道这个。但他说了我些什么？他说了些什么？”
“你使他感到厌恶。“
第二十一章 Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21: GENERAL DREEDLE
Summary
Cathcart thinks of Yossarian as a menacing problem. The very sound of his
name makes the colonelós blood run cold. He despises it because it is not
a clean, crisp, American name like Peckem or Cathcart. He prepares a chart
of all the bad things he feels Yossarian has done. These include the second
run over Ferrara, the moving of the bomb line during the Bologna mission,
and the appearance of a nude Yossarian at the medal ceremony.
General Dreedle, the wing commander, is a fat man in his early fifties.
His favorite sentence is "war is hell." However, he makes a good living
out of the war and derives great pleasure from seeing that his son-in-law,
Colonel Moodus, does not enjoy himself. Dreedle has, in his company, an
irresistible, blonde nurse. On nights when Moodus is around, the general
forces her, to wear a tight, silk uniform that shows of her figure, just
to drive Moodus crazy. The presence of his father-in-law has meant that Moodus
has not been with a woman since he has been in the war.
When Dreedle has come to give Yossarian his medal, he finds Yossarian naked
in the line. He refuses to wear clothes because Snowden has bled all over
his clothes when he was killed. Dreedle gives Yossarian the medal, though
Cathcart wants to punish Yossarian for his behavior.
At the briefing session just before the mission to Avignon, Yossarian has
begun a series of passionate sighs directed at Dreedleós nurse; Dreedle
is angry and seizes Major Danby who has inadvertently blurted out an "ooooh."
Danby was supposed to brief the men about the mission. Dreedle orders Danby
shot for insubordination, and is surprised when he is told by Moodus that
he cannot order the shooting.
Colonel Korn takes up the task of briefing the men. He tries to impress
Dreedle by his efforts. But the general is not impressed and leaves the
room in a hurry.
Notes
Yossarian is now seen as a threat by his squadron commander. Yossarianós
unique methods of protest have undermined Cathcartós leadership. Cathcart
does not feel secure in his position. Dreedle, on the other hand, is a pompous,
assured officer; he does not mind giving a medal to a naked man. The general
is having a good time with his nurse.
At the briefing, Yossarian cannot control himself when he sees the nurse.
Dreedle is the kind of officer who thinks he has the right to do just about
anything, including shooting Danby. The general appears crazy with power.
He also will not put up with any nonsense.
General Dreedle
Colonel Cathcart was not thinking anything at all about the chaplain， but was tangled up in a brand-new， menacing problem of his own： Yossarian！
Yossarian！ The mere sound of that execrable， ugly name made his blood run cold and his breath come in labored gasps. The chaplain's first mention of the name Yossarian！ had tolled deep in his memory like a portentous gong. As soon as the latch of the door had clicked shut， the whole humiliating recollection of the naked man in formation came cascading down upon him in a mortifying， choking flood of stinging details. He began to perspire and tremble. There was a sinister and unlikely coincidence exposed that was too diabolical in implication to be anything less than the most hideous of omens. The name of the man who had stood naked in ranks that day to receive his Distinguished Flying Cross from General Dreedle had also been-Yossarian！ And now it was a man named Yossarian who was threatening to make trouble over the sixty missions he had just ordered the men in his group to fly. Colonel Cathcart wondered gloomily if it was the same Yossarian.
He climbed to his feet with an air of intolerable woe and began moving about his office. He felt himself in the presence of the mysterious. The naked man in formation， he conceded cheerlessly， had been a real black eye for him. So had the tampering with the bomb line before the mission to Bologna and the seven-day delay in destroying the bridge at Ferrara， even though destroying the bridge at Ferrara finally， he remembered with glee， had been a real feather in his cap， although losing a plane there the second time around， he recalled in dejection， had been another black eye， even though he had won another real feather in his cap by getting a medal approved for the bombardier who had gotten him the real black eye in the first place by going around over the target twice. That bombardier's name， he remembered suddenly with another stupefying shock， had also been Yossarian！ Now there were three！ His viscous eyes bulged with astonishment and he whipped himself around in alarm to see what was taking place behind him. A moment ago there had been no Yossarians in his life； now they were multiplying like hobgoblins. He tried to make himself grow calm. Yossarian was not a common name； perhaps there were not really three Yossarians but only two Yossarians， or maybe even only one Yossarian-but that really made no difference！ The colonel was still in grave peril. Intuition warned him that he was drawing close to some immense and inscrutable cosmic climax， and his broad， meaty， towering frame tingled from head to toe at the thought that Yossarian， whoever he would eventually turn out to be， was destined to serve as his nemesis.
Colonel Cathcart was not superstitious， but he did believe in omens， and he sat right back down behind his desk and made a cryptic notation on his memorandum pad to look into the whole suspicious business of the Yossarians right away. He wrote his reminder to himself in a heavy and decisive hand， amplifying it sharply with a series of coded punctuation marks and underlining the whole message twice， so that it read： Yossarian！ ！ ！ （？）！
The colonel sat back when he had finished and was extremely pleased with himself for the prompt action he had just taken to meet this sinister crisis. Yossarian-the very sight of the name made him shudder. There were so many esses in it. It just had to be subversive. It was like the word subversive itself. It was like seditious and insidious too， and like socialist， suspicious， fascist and Communist. It was an odious， alien， distasteful name， that just did not inspire confidence. It was not at all like such clean， crisp， honest， American names as Cathcart， Peckem and Dreedle.
Colonel Cathcart rose slowly and began drifting about his office again. Almost unconsciously， he picked up a plum tomato from the top of one of the bushels and took a voracious bite. He made a wry face at once and threw the rest of the plum tomato into his waste-basket. The colonel did not like plum tomatoes， not even when they were his own， and these were not even his own. These had been purchased in different market places all over Pianosa by Colonel Korn under various identities， moved up to the colonel's farmhouse in the hills in the dead of night， and transported down to Group Headquarters the next morning for sale to Milo， who paid Colonel Cathcart and Colonel Korn premium prices for them. Colonel Cathcart often wondered if what they were doing with the plum tomatoes was legal， but Colonel Korn said it was， and he tried not to brood about it too often. He had no way of knowing whether or not the house in the hills was legal， either， since Colonel Korn had made all the arrangements. Colonel Cathcart did not know if he owned the house or rented it， from whom he had acquired it or how much， if anything， it was costing. Colonel Korn was the lawyer， and if Colonel Korn assured him that fraud， extortion， currency manipulation， embezzlement， income tax evasion and black-market speculations were legal， Colonel Cathcart was in no position to disagree with him.
All Colonel Cathcart knew about his house in the hills was that he had such a house and hated it. He was never so bored as when spending there the two or three days every other week necessary to sustain the illusion that his damp and drafty stone farmhouse in the hills was a golden palace of carnal delights. Officers' clubs everywhere pulsated with blurred but knowing accounts of lavish， hushed-up drinking and sex orgies there and of secret， intimate nights of ecstasy with the most beautiful， the most tantalizing， the most readily aroused and most easily satisfied Italian courtesans， film actresses， models and countesses. No such private nights of ecstasy or hushed-up drinking and sex orgies ever occurred. They might have occurred if either General Dreedle or General Peckem had once evinced an interest in taking part in orgies with him， but neither ever did， and the colonel was certainly not going to waste his time and energy making love to beautiful women unless there was something in it for him.
The colonel dreaded his dank lonely nights at his farmhouse and the dull， uneventful days. He had much more fun back at Group， browbeating everyone he wasn't afraid of. However， as Colonel Korn kept reminding him， there was not much glamour in having a farmhouse in the hills if he never used it. He drove off to his farmhouse each time in a mood of self-pity. He carried a shotgun in his jeep and spent the monotonous hours there shooting it at birds and at the plum tomatoes that did grow there in untended rows and were too much trouble to harvest.
Among those officers of inferior rank toward whom Colonel Cathcart still deemed it prudent to show respect， he included Major-de Coverley， even though he did not want to and was not sure he even had to. Major-de Coverley was as great a mystery to him as he was to Major Major and to everyone else who ever took notice of him. Colonel Cathcart had no idea whether to look up or look down in his attitude toward Major-de Coverley. Major-de Coverley was only a major， even though he was ages older than Colonel Cathcart； at the same time， so many other people treated Major-de Coverley with such profound and fearful veneration that Colonel Cathcart had a hunch they might know something. Major- de Coverley was an ominous， incomprehensible presence who kept him constantly on edge and of whom even Colonel Korn tended to be wary. Everyone was afraid of him， and no one knew why. No one even knew Major-de Coverley's first name， because no one had ever had the temerity to ask him. Colonel Cathcart knew that Major-de Coverley was away and he rejoiced in his absence until it occurred to him that Major-de Coverley might be away somewhere conspiring against him， and then he wished that Major-de Coverley were back in his squadron where he belonged so that he could be watched.
In a little while Colonel Cathcart's arches began to ache from pacing back and forth so much. He sat down behind his desk again and resolved to embark upon a mature and systematic evaluation of the entire military situation. With the businesslike air of a man who knows how to get things done， he found a large white pad， drew a straight line down the middle and crossed it near the top， dividing the page into two blank columns of equal width. He rested a moment in critical rumination. Then he huddled over his desk， and at the head of the left column， in a cramped and finicky hand， he wrote， 'Black Eyes！！！' At the top of the right column he wrote， 'Feathers in My Cap！！！ ！！' He leaned back once more to inspect his chart admiringly from an objective perspective. After a few seconds of solemn deliberation， he licked the tip of his pencil carefully and wrote under 'Black Eyes！！！，' after intent intervals： Ferrara Bologna （bomb line moved on map during） Skeet range Naked man information （after Avignon） Then he added： Food poisoning （during Bologna） and Moaning （epidemic of during Avignon briefing） Then he added： Chaplain （hanging around officers' club every night） He decided to be charitable about the chaplain， even though he did not like him， and under 'Feathers in My Cap！！！ ！！' he wrote： Chaplain （hanging around officers' club every night） The two chaplain entries， therefore， neutralized each other. Alongside 'Ferrara' and 'Naked man in formation （after Avignon）' he then wrote： Yossarian！ Alongside 'Bologna （bomb line moved on map during）'， 'Food poisoning （during Bologna）' and 'Moaning （epidemic of during Avignon briefing）' he wrote in a bold， decisive hand： ？ Those entries labeled '？' were the ones he wanted to investigate immediately to determine if Yossarian had played any part in them.
Suddenly his arm began to shake， and he was unable to write any more. He rose to his feet in terror， feeling sticky and fat， and rushed to the open window to gulp in fresh air. His gaze fell on the skeet-range， and he reeled away with a sharp cry of distress， his wild and feverish eyes scanning the walls of his office frantically as though they were swarming with Yossarians.
Nobody loved him. General Dreedle hated him， although General Peckem liked him， although he couldn't be sure， since Colonel Cargill， General Peckem's aide， undoubtedly had ambitions of his own and was probably sabotaging him with General Peckem at every opportunity. The only good colonel， he decided， was a dead colonel， except for himself. The only colonel he trusted was Colonel Moodus， and even he had an in with his father-in-law. Milo， of course， had been the big feather in his cap， although having his group bombed by Milo's planes had probably been a terrible black eye for him， even though Milo had ultimately stilled all protest by disclosing the huge net profit the syndicate had realized on the deal with the enemy and convincing everyone that bombing his own men and planes had therefore really been a commendable and very lucrative blow on the side of private enterprise. The colonel was insecure about Milo because other colonels were trying to lure him away， and Colonel Cathcart still had that lousy Big Chief White Halfoat in his group who that lousy， lazy Captain Black claimed was the one really responsible for the bomb line's being moved during the Big Siege of Bologna. Colonel Cathcart liked Big Chief White Halfoat because Big Chief White Halfoat kept punching that lousy Colonel Moodus in the nose every time he got drunk and Colonel Moodus was around. He wished that Big Chief White Halfoat would begin punching Colonel Korn in his fat face， too. Colonel Korn was a lousy smart aleck. Someone at Twenty-seventh Air Force Headquarters had it in for him and sent back every report he wrote with a blistering rebuke， and Colonel Korn had bribed a clever mail clerk there named Wintergreen to try to find out who it was. Losing the plane over Ferrara the second time around had not done him any good， he had to admit， and neither had having that other plane disappear inside that cloud-that was one he hadn't even written down！ He tried to recall， longingly， if Yossarian had been lost in that plane in the cloud and realized that Yossarian could not possibly have been lost in that plane in the cloud if he was still around now raising such a big stink about having to fly a lousy five missions more.
Maybe sixty missions were too many for the men to fly， Colonel Cathcart reasoned， if Yossarian objected to flying them， but he then remembered that forcing his men to fly more missions than everyone else was the most tangible achievement he had going for him. As Colonel Korn often remarked， the war was crawling with group commanders who were merely doing their duty， and it required just some sort of dramatic gesture like making his group fly more combat missions than any other bomber group to spotlight his unique qualities of leadership. Certainly none of the generals seemed to object to what he was doing， although as far as he could detect they weren't particularly impressed either， which made him suspect that perhaps sixty combat missions were not nearly enough and that he ought to increase the number at once to seventy， eighty， a hundred， or even two hundred， three hundred， or six thousand！
Certainly he would be much better off under somebody suave like General Peckem than he was under somebody boorish and insensitive like General Dreedle， because General Peckem had the discernment， the intelligence and the Ivy League background to appreciate and enjoy him at his full value， although General Peckem had never given the slightest indication that he appreciated or enjoyed him at all. Colonel Cathcart felt perceptive enough to realize that visible signals of recognition were never necessary between sophisticated， self-assured people like himself and General Peckem who could warm to each other from a distance with innate mutual understanding. It was enough that they were of like kind， and he knew it was only a matter of waiting discreetly for preferment until the right time， although it rotted Colonel Cathcart's self-esteem to observe that General Peckem never deliberately sought him out and that he labored no harder to impress Colonel Cathcart with his epigrams and erudition than he did to impress anyone else in earshot， even enlisted men. Either Colonel Cathcart wasn't getting through to General Peckem or General Peckem was not the scintillating， discriminating， intellectual， forward-looking personality he pretended to be and it was really General Dreedle who was sensitive， charming， brilliant and sophisticated and under whom he would certainly be much better off， and suddenly Colonel Cathcart had absolutely no conception of how strongly he stood with anyone and began banging on his buzzer with his fist for Colonel Korn to come running into his office and assure him that everybody loved him， that Yossarian was a figment of his imagination， and that he was making wonderful progress in the splendid and valiant campaign he was waging to become a general.
Actually， Colonel Cathcart did not have a chance in hell of becoming a general. For one thing， there was ex-P.F.C. Wintergreen， who also wanted to be a general and who always distorted， destroyed， rejected or misdirected any correspondence by， for or about Colonel Cathcart that might do him credit. For another， there already was a general， General Dreedle who knew that General Peckem was after his job but did not know how to stop him.
General Dreedle， the wing commander， was a blunt， chunky， barrel-chested man in his early fifties. His nose was squat and red， and he had lumpy white， bunched-up eyelids circling his small gray eyes like haloes of bacon fat. He had a nurse and a son-in-law， and he was prone to long， ponderous silences when he had not been drinking too much. General Dreedle had wasted too much of his time in the Army doing his job well， and now it was too late. New power alignments had coalesced without him and he was at a loss to cope with them. At unguarded moments his hard and sullen face slipped into a somber， preoccupied look of defeat and frustration. General Dreedle drank a great deal. His moods were arbitrary and unpredictable. 'War is hell，' he declared frequently， drunk or sober， and he really meant it， although that did not prevent him from making a good living out of it or from taking his son-in-law into the business with him， even though the two bickered constantly.
'That bastard，' General Dreedle would complain about his son-in-law with a contemptuous grunt to anyone who happened to be standing beside him at the curve of the bar of the officers' club. 'Everything he's got he owes to me. I made him， that lousy son of a bitch！ He hasn't got brains enough to get ahead on his own.'
'He thinks he knows everything，' Colonel Moodus would retort in a sulking tone to his own audience at the other end of the bar. 'He can't take criticism and he won't listen to advice.'
'All he can do is give advice，' General Dreedle would observe with a rasping snort. 'If it wasn't for me， he'd still be a corporal.' General Dreedle was always accompanied by both Colonel Moodus and his nurse， who was as delectable a piece of ass as anyone who saw her had ever laid eyes on. General Dreedle's nurse was chubby， short and blonde. She had plump dimpled cheeks， happy blue eyes， and neat curly turned-up hair. She smiled at everyone and never spoke at all unless she was spoken to. Her bosom was lush and her complexion clear. She was irresistible， and men edged away from her carefully. She was succulent， sweet， docile and dumb， and she drove everyone crazy but General Dreedle.
'You should see her naked，' General Dreedle chortled with croupy relish， while his nurse stood smiling proudly right at his shoulder. 'Back at Wing she's got a uniform in my room made of purple silk that's so tight her nipples stand out like bing cherries. Milo got me the fabric. There isn't even room enough for panties or a brassiè；re underneath. I make her wear it some nights when Moodus is around just to drive him crazy.' General Dreedle laughed hoarsely. 'You should see what goes on inside that blouse of hers every time she shifts her weight. She drives him out of his mind. The first time I catch him putting a hand on her or any other woman I'll bust the horny bastard right down to private and put him on K.P. for a year.'
'He keeps her around just to drive me crazy，' Colonel Moodus accused aggrievedly at the other end of the bar. 'Back at Wing she's got a uniform made out of purple silk that's so tight her nipples stand out like bing cherries. There isn't even room for panties or a brassiè；re underneath. You should hear that rustle every time she shifts her weight. The first time I make a pass at her or any other girl he'll bust me right down to private and put me on K.P. for a year. She drives me out of my mind.'
'He hasn't gotten laid since we shipped overseas，' confided General Dreedle， and his square grizzled head bobbed with sadistic laughter at the fiendish idea. 'That's one of the reasons I never let him out of my sight， just so he can't get to a woman. Can you imagine what that poor son of a bitch is going through？'
'I haven't been to bed with a woman since we shipped overseas，' Colonel Moodus whimpered tearfully. 'Can you imagine what I'm going through？' General Dreedle could be as intransigent with anyone else when displeased as he was with Colonel Moodus. He had no taste for sham， tact or pretension， and his credo as a professional soldier was unified and concise： he believed that the young men who took orders from him should be willing to give up their lives for the ideals， aspirations and idiosyncrasies of the old men he took orders from. The officers and enlisted men in his command had identity for him only as military quantities. All he asked was that they do their work； beyond that， they were free to do whatever they pleased. They were free， as Colonel Cathcart was free， to force their men to fly sixty missions if they chose， and they were free， as Yossarian had been free， to stand in formation naked if they wanted to， although General Dreedle's granite jaw swung open at the sight and he went striding dictatorially right down the line to make certain that there really was a man wearing nothing but moccasins waiting at attention in ranks to receive a medal from him. General Dreedle was speechless. Colonel Cathcart began to faint when he spied Yossarian， and Colonel Korn stepped up behind him and squeezed his arm in a strong grip. The silence was grotesque. A steady warm wind flowed in from the beach， and an old cart filled with dirty straw rumbled into view on the main road， drawn by a black donkey and driven by a farmer in a flopping hat and faded brown work clothes who paid no attention to the formal military ceremony taking place in the small field on his right.
At last General Dreedle spoke. 'Get back in the car，' he snapped over his shoulder to his nurse， who had followed him down the line. The nurse toddled away with a smile toward his brown staff car， parked about twenty yards away at the edge of the rectangular clearing. General Dreedle waited in austere silence until the car door slammed and then demanded， 'Which one is this？' Colonel Moodus checked his roster. 'This one is Yossarian， Dad. He gets a Distinguished Flying Cross.'
'Well， I'll be damned，' mumbled General Dreedle， and his ruddy monolithic face softened with amusement. 'Why aren't you wearing clothes， Yossarian？'
'I don't want to.'
'What do you mean you don't want to？ Why the hell don't you want to？'
'I just don't want to， sir.'
'Why isn't he wearing clothes？' General Dreedle demanded over his shoulder of Colonel Cathcart.
'He's talking to you，' Colonel Korn whispered over Colonel Cathcart's shoulder from behind， jabbing his elbow sharply into Colonel Cathcart's back.
'Why isn't he wearing clothes？' Colonel Cathcart demanded of Colonel Korn with a look of acute pain， tenderly nursing the spot where Colonel Korn had just jabbed him.
'Why isn't he wearing clothes？' Colonel Korn demanded of Captain Piltchard and Captain Wren.
'A man was killed in his plane over Avignon last week and bled all over him，' Captain Wren replied. 'He swears he's never going to wear a uniform again.'
'A man was killed in his plane over Avignon last week and bled all over him，' Colonel Korn reported directly to General Dreedle. 'His uniform hasn't come back from the laundry yet.'
'Where are his other uniforms？'
'They're in the laundry， too.'
'What about his underwear？' General Dreedle demanded.
'All his underwear's in the laundry， too，' answered Colonel Korn.
'That sounds like a lot of crap to me，' General Dreedle declared.
'It is a lot of crap， sir，' Yossarian said.
'Don't you worry， sir，' Colonel Cathcart promised General Dreedle with a threatening look at Yossarian. 'You have my personal word for it that this man will be severely punished.'
'What the hell do I care if he's punished or not？' General Dreedle replied with surprise and irritation. 'He's just won a medal. If he wants to receive it without any clothes on， what the hell business is it of yours？'
'Those are my sentiments exactly， sir！' Colonel Cathcart echoed with resounding enthusiasm and mopped his brow with a damp white handkerchief. 'But would you say that， sir， even in the light of General Peckem's recent memorandum on the subject of appropriate military attire in combat areas？'
'Peckem？' General Dreedle's face clouded.
'Yes， sir， sir，' said Colonel Cathcart obsequiously. 'General Peckem even recommends that we send our men into combat in full-dress uniform so they'll make a good impression on the enemy when they're shot down.'
'Peckem？' repeated General Dreedle， still squinting with bewilderment. 'Just what the hell does Peckem have to do with it？' Colonel Korn jabbed Colonel Cathcart sharply again in the back with his elbow.
'Absolutely nothing， sir！' Colonel Cathcart responded sprucely， wincing in extreme pain and gingerly rubbing the spot where Colonel Korn had just jabbed him again. 'And that's exactly why I decided to take absolutely no action at all until I first had an opportunity to discuss it with you. Shall we ignore it completely， sir？' General Dreedle ignored him completely， turning away from him in baleful scorn to hand Yossarian his medal in its case.
'Get my girl back from the car，' he commanded Colonel Moodus crabbily， and waited in one spot with his scowling face down until his nurse had rejoined him.
'Get word to the office right away to kill that directive I just issued ordering the men to wear neckties on the combat missions，' Colonel Cathcart whispered to Colonel Korn urgently out of the corner of his mouth.
'I told you not to do it，' Colonel Korn snickered. 'But you just wouldn't listen to me.'
'Shhhh！' Colonel Cathcart cautioned. 'Goddammit， Korn， what did you do to my back？' Colonel Korn snickered again.
General Dreedle's nurse always followed General Dreedle everywhere he went， even into the briefing room just before the mission to Avignon， where she stood with her asinine smile at the side of the platform and bloomed like a fertile oasis at General Dreedle's shoulder in her pink-and-green uniform. Yossarian looked at her and fell in love， desperately. His spirits sank， leaving him empty inside and numb. He sat gazing in clammy want at her full red lips and dimpled cheeks as he listened to Major Danby describe in a monotonous， didactic male drone the heavy concentrations of flak awaiting them at Avignon， and he moaned in deep despair suddenly at the thought that he might never see again this lovely woman to whom he had never spoken a word and whom he now loved so pathetically. He throbbed and ached with sorrow， fear and desire as he stared at her； she was so beautiful. He worshiped the ground she stood on. He licked his parched， thirsting lips with a sticky tongue and moaned in misery again， loudly enough this time to attract the startled， searching glances of the men sitting around him on the rows of crude wooden benches in their chocolate-colored coveralls and stitched white parachute harnesses.
Nately turned to him quickly with alarm. 'What is it？' he whispered. 'What's the matter？' Yossarian did not hear him. He was sick with lust and mesmerized with regret. General Dreedle's nurse was only a little chubby， and his senses were stuffed to congestion with the yellow radiance of her hair and the unfelt pressure of her soft short fingers， with the rounded， untasted wealth of her nubile breasts in her Army-pink shirt that was opened wide at the throat and with the rolling， ripened， triangular confluences of her belly and thighs in her tight， slick forest-green gabardine officer's pants. He drank her in insatiably from head to painted toenail. He never wanted to lose her. 'Oooooooooooooh，' he moaned again， and this time the whole room rippled at his quavering， drawn-out cry. A wave of startled uneasiness broke over the officers on the dais， and even Major Danby， who had begun synchronizing the watches， was distracted momentarily as he counted out the seconds and almost had to begin again. Nately followed Yossarian's transfixed gaze down the long frame auditorium until he came to General Dreedle's nurse. He blanched with trepidation when he guessed what was troubling Yossarian.
'Cut it out， will you？' Nately warned in a fierce whisper.
'Ooooooooooooooooooooh，' Yossarian moaned a fourth time， this time loudly enough for everyone to hear him distinctly.
'Are you crazy？' Nately hissed vehemently. 'You'll get into trouble.'
'Ooooooooooooooooooooh，' Dunbar answered Yossarian from the opposite end of the room.
Nately recognized Dunbar's voice. The situation was now out of control， and he turned away with a small moan. 'Ooh.'
'Ooooooooooooooooooooh，' Dunbar moaned back at him.
'Ooooooooooooooooooooh，' Nately moaned out loud in exasperation when he realized that he had just moaned.
'Ooooooooooooooooooooh，' Dunbar moaned back at him again.
'Ooooooooooooooooooooh，' someone entirely new chimed in from another section of the room， and Nately's hair stood on end.
Yossarian and Dunbar both replied while Nately cringed and hunted about futilely for some hole in which to hide and take Yossarian with him. A sprinkling of people were smothering laughter. An elfin impulse possessed Nately and he moaned intentionally the next time there was a lull. Another new voice answered. The flavor of disobedience was titillating， and Nately moaned deliberately again， the next time he could squeeze one in edgewise. Still another new voice echoed him. The room was boiling irrepressibly into bedlam. An eerie hubbub of voices was rising. Feet were scuffled， and things began to drop from people's fingers-pencils， computers， map cases， clattering steel flak helmets. A number of men who were not moaning were now giggling openly， and there was no telling how far the unorganized insurrection of moaning might have gone if General Dreedle himself had not come forward to quell it， stepping out determinedly in the center of the platform directly in front of Major Danby， who， with his earnest， persevering head down， was still concentrating on his wrist watch and saying， '…twenty-five seconds… twenty… fifteen…' General Dreedle's great， red domineering face was gnarled with perplexity and oaken with awesome resolution.
'That will be all， men，' he ordered tersely， his eyes glaring with disapproval and his square jaw firm， and that's all there was. 'I run a fighting outfit，' he told them sternly， when the room had grown absolutely quiet and the men on the benches were all cowering sheepishly， 'and there'll be no more moaning in this group as long as I'm in command. Is that clear？' It was clear to everybody but Major Danby， who was still concentrating on his wrist watch and counting down the seconds aloud. '…four… three… two… one… time！' called out Major Danby， and raised his eyes triumphantly to discover that no one had been listening to him and that he would have to begin all over again. 'Ooooh，' he moaned in frustration.
'What was that？' roared General Dreedle incredulously， and whirled around in a murderous rage upon Major Danby， who staggered back in terrified confusion and began to quail and perspire. 'Who is this man？'
'M-major Danby， sir，' Colonel Cathcart stammered. 'My group operations officer.'
'Take him out and shoot him，' ordered General Dreedle.
'S-sir？'
'I said take him out and shoot him. Can't you hear？'
'Yes， sir！' Colonel Cathcart responded smartly， swallowing hard， and turned in a brisk manner to his chauffeur and his meteorologist. 'Take Major Danby out and shoot him.'
'S-sir？' his chauffeur and his meteorologist stammered.
'I said take Major Danby out and shoot him，' Colonel Cathcart snapped. 'Can't you hear？' The two young lieutenants nodded lumpishly and gaped at each other in stunned and flaccid reluctance， each waiting for the other to initiate the procedure of taking Major Danby outside and shooting him. Neither had ever taken Major Danby outside and shot him before. They inched their way dubiously toward Major Danby from opposite sides. Major Danby was white with fear. His legs collapsed suddenly and he began to fall， and the two young lieutenants sprang forward and seized him under both arms to save him from slumping to the floor. Now that they had Major Danby， the rest seemed easy， but there were no guns. Major Danby began to cry. Colonel Cathcart wanted to rush to his side and comfort him， but did not want to look like a sissy in front of General Dreedle. He remembered that Appleby and Havermeyer always brought their .45 automatics on the missions， and he began to scan the rows of men in search of them.
As soon as Major Danby began to cry， Colonel Moodus， who had been vacillating wretchedly on the sidelines， could restrain himself no longer and stepped out diffidently toward General Dreedle with a sickly air of self-sacrifice. 'I think you'd better wait a minute， Dad，' he suggested hesitantly. 'I don't think you can shoot him.' General Dreedle was infuriated by his intervention. 'Who the hell says I can't？' he thundered pugnaciously in a voice loud enough to rattle the whole building. Colonel Moodus， his face flushing with embarrassment， bent close to whisper into his ear. 'Why the hell can't I？' General Dreedle bellowed. Colonel Moodus whispered some more. 'You mean I can't shoot anyone I want to？' General Dreedle demanded with uncompromising indignation. He pricked up his ears with interest as Colonel Moodus continued whispering. 'Is that a fact？' he inquired， his rage tamed by curiosity.
'Yes， Dad. I'm afraid it is.'
'I guess you think you're pretty goddam smart， don't you？' General Dreedle lashed out at Colonel Moodus suddenly.
Colonel Moodus turned crimson again. 'No， Dad， it isn't-'
'All right， let the insubordinate son of a bitch go，' General Dreedle snarled， turning bitterly away from his son-in-law and barking peevishly at Colonel Cathcart's chauffeur and Colonel Cathcart's meteorologist. 'But get him out of this building and keep him out. And let's continue this goddam briefing before the war ends. I've never seen so much incompetence.' Colonel Cathcart nodded lamely at General Dreedle and signaled his men hurriedly to push Major Danby outside the building. As soon as Major Danby had been pushed outside， though， there was no one to continue the briefing. Everyone gawked at everyone else in oafish surprise. General Dreedle turned purple with rage as nothing happened. Colonel Cathcart had no idea what to do. He was about to begin moaning aloud when Colonel Korn came to the rescue by stepping forward and taking control. Colonel Cathcart sighed with enormous， tearful relief， almost overwhelmed with gratitude.
'Now， men， we're going to synchronize our watches，' Colonel Korn began promptly in a sharp， commanding manner， rolling his eyes flirtatiously in General Dreedle's direction. 'We're going to synchronize our watches one time and one time only， and if it doesn't come off in that one time， General Dreedle and I are going to want to know why. Is that clear？' He fluttered his eyes toward General Dreedle again to make sure his plug had registered. 'Now set your watches for nine-eighteen.' Colonel Korn synchronized their watches without a single hitch and moved ahead with confidence. He gave the men the colors of the day and reviewed the weather conditions with an agile， flashy versatility， casting sidelong， simpering looks at General Dreedle every few seconds to draw increased encouragement from the excellent impression he saw he was making. Preening and pruning himself effulgendy and strutting vaingloriously about the platform as he picked up momentum， he gave the men the colors of the day again and shifted nimbly into a rousing pep talk on the importance of the bridge at Avignon to the war effort and the obligation of each man on the mission to place love of country above love of life. When his inspiring dissertation was finished， he gave the men the colors of the day still one more time， stressed the angle of approach and reviewed the weather conditions again. Colonel Korn felt himself at the full height of his powers. He belonged in the spotlight.
Comprehension dawned slowly on Colonel Cathcart； when it came， he was struck dumb. His face grew longer and longer as he enviously watched Colonel Korn's treachery continue， and he was almost afraid to listen when General Dreedle moved up beside him and， in a whisper blustery enough to be heard throughout the room， demanded， 'Who is that man？' Colonel Cathcart answered with wan foreboding， and General Dreedle then cupped his hand over his mouth and whispered something that made Colonel Cathcart's face glow with immense joy. Colonel Korn saw and quivered with uncontainable rapture. Had he just been promoted in the field by General Dreedle to full colonel？ He could not endure the suspense. With a masterful flourish， he brought the briefing to a close and turned expectantly to receive ardent congratulations from General Dreedle-who was already striding out of the building without a glance backward， trailing his nurse and Colonel Moodus behind him. Colonel Korn was stunned by this disappointing sight， but only for an instant. His eyes found Colonel Cathcart， who was still standing erect in a grinning trance， and he rushed over jubilantly and began pulling on his arm.
'What'd he say about me？' he demanded excitedly in a fervor of proud and blissful anticipation. 'What did General Dreedle say？'
'He wanted to know who you were.'
'I know that. I know that. But what'd he say about me？ What'd he say？'
'You make him sick.'
