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- Джозеф Хеллер
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- Уловка 22
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- Стр. 11/452
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"
No
,
he
isn
’
t
very
sick
.
In
fact
,
he
isn
’
t
sick
at
all
.
"
"
That
’
s
good
.
"
The
chaplain
sighed
with
relief
.
"
Yes
,
"
Yossarian
said
.
"
Yes
,
that
is
good
.
"
"
A
chaplain
,
"
Dunbar
said
when
the
chaplain
had
visited
him
and
gone
.
"
Did
you
see
that
?
A
chaplain
.
"
"
Wasn
’
t
he
sweet
?
"
said
Yossarian
.
"
Maybe
they
should
give
him
three
votes
.
"
"
Who
’
s
they
?
"
Dunbar
demanded
suspiciously
.
In
a
bed
in
the
small
private
section
at
the
end
of
the
ward
,
always
working
ceaselessly
behind
the
green
plyboard
partition
,
was
the
solemn
middleaged
colonel
who
was
visited
every
day
by
a
gentle
,
sweet
-
faced
woman
with
curly
ash
-
blond
hair
who
was
not
a
nurse
and
not
a
Wac
and
not
a
Red
Cross
girl
but
who
nevertheless
appeared
faithfully
at
the
hospital
in
Pianosa
each
afternoon
wearing
pretty
pastel
summer
dresses
that
were
very
smart
and
white
leather
pumps
with
heels
half
high
at
the
base
of
nylon
seams
that
were
inevitably
straight
.
The
colonel
was
in
Communications
,
and
he
was
kept
busy
day
and
night
transmitting
glutinous
messages
from
the
interior
into
square
pads
of
gauze
which
he
sealed
meticulously
and
delivered
to
a
covered
white
pail
that
stood
on
the
night
table
beside
his
bed
.
The
colonel
was
gorgeous
.
He
had
a
cavernous
mouth
,
cavernous
cheeks
,
cavernous
,
sad
,
mildewed
eyes
.
His
face
was
the
color
of
clouded
silver
.
He
coughed
quietly
,
gingerly
,
and
dabbed
the
pads
slowly
at
his
lips
with
a
distaste
that
had
become
automatic
.
The
colonel
dwelt
in
a
vortex
of
specialists
who
were
still
specializing
in
trying
to
determine
what
was
troubling
him
.
They
hurled
lights
in
his
eyes
to
see
if
he
could
see
,
rammed
needles
into
nerves
to
hear
if
he
could
feel
.
There
was
a
urologist
for
his
urine
,
a
lymphologist
for
his
lymph
,
an
endocrinologist
for
his
endocrines
,
a
psychologist
for
his
psyche
,
a
dermatologist
for
his
derma
;
there
was
a
pathologist
for
his
pathos
,
a
cystologist
for
his
cysts
,
and
a
bald
and
pedantic
cetologist
from
the
zoology
department
at
Harvard
who
had
been
shanghaied
ruthlessly
into
the
Medical
Corps
by
a
faulty
anode
in
an
I
.
B
.
M
.
machine
and
spent
his
sessions
with
the
dying
colonel
trying
to
discuss
Moby
Dick
with
him
.
The
colonel
had
really
been
investigated
.
There
was
not
an
organ
of
his
body
that
had
not
been
drugged
and
derogated
,
dusted
and
dredged
,
fingered
and
photographed
,
removed
,
plundered
and
replaced
.
Neat
,
slender
and
erect
,
the
woman
touched
him
often
as
she
sat
by
his
bedside
and
was
the
epitome
of
stately
sorrow
each
time
she
smiled
.
The
colonel
was
tall
,
thin
and
stooped
.
When
he
rose
to
walk
,
he
bent
forward
even
more
,
making
a
deep
cavity
of
his
body
,
and
placed
his
feet
down
very
carefully
,
moving
ahead
by
inches
from
the
knees
down
.
There
were
violet
pools
under
his
eyes
.
The
woman
spoke
softly
,
softer
even
than
the
colonel
coughed
,
and
none
of
the
men
in
the
ward
ever
heard
her
voice
.
