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- Джозеф Хеллер
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- Уловка 22
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- Стр. 118/452
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His
name
was
Mudd
.
To
Sergeant
Towser
,
who
deplored
violence
and
waste
with
equal
aversion
,
it
seemed
like
such
an
abhorrent
extravagance
to
fly
Mudd
all
the
way
across
the
ocean
just
to
have
him
blown
into
bits
over
Orvieto
less
than
two
hours
after
he
arrived
.
No
one
could
recall
who
he
was
or
what
he
had
looked
like
,
least
of
all
Captain
Piltchard
and
Captain
Wren
,
who
remembered
only
that
a
new
officer
had
shown
up
at
the
operations
tent
just
in
time
to
be
killed
and
who
colored
uneasily
every
time
the
matter
of
the
dead
man
in
Yossarian
’
s
tent
was
mentioned
.
The
only
ones
who
might
have
seen
Mudd
,
the
men
in
the
same
plane
,
had
all
been
blown
to
bits
with
him
.
Yossarian
,
on
the
other
hand
,
knew
exactly
who
Mudd
was
.
Mudd
was
the
unknown
soldier
who
had
never
had
a
chance
,
for
that
was
the
only
thing
anyone
ever
did
know
about
all
the
unknown
soldiers
—
they
never
had
a
chance
.
They
had
to
be
dead
.
And
this
dead
one
was
really
unknown
,
even
though
his
belongings
still
lay
in
a
tumble
on
the
cot
in
Yossarian
’
s
tent
almost
exactly
as
he
had
left
them
three
months
earlier
the
day
he
never
arrived
—
all
contaminated
with
death
less
than
two
hours
later
,
in
the
same
way
that
all
was
contaminated
with
death
the
very
next
week
during
the
Great
Big
Siege
of
Bologna
when
the
moldy
odor
of
mortality
hung
wet
in
the
air
with
the
sulphurous
fog
and
every
man
scheduled
to
fly
was
already
tainted
.
There
was
no
escaping
the
mission
to
Bologna
once
Colonel
Cathcart
had
volunteered
his
group
for
the
ammunition
dumps
there
that
the
heavy
bombers
on
the
Italian
mainland
had
been
unable
to
destroy
from
their
higher
altitudes
.
Each
day
’
s
delay
deepened
the
awareness
and
deepened
the
gloom
.
The
clinging
,
overpowering
conviction
of
death
spread
steadily
with
the
continuing
rainfall
,
soaking
mordantly
into
each
man
’
s
ailing
countenance
like
the
corrosive
blot
of
some
crawling
disease
.
Everyone
smelled
of
formaldehyde
.
There
was
nowhere
to
turn
for
help
,
not
even
to
the
medical
tent
,
which
had
been
ordered
closed
by
Colonel
Korn
so
that
no
one
could
report
for
sick
call
,
as
the
men
had
done
on
the
one
clear
day
with
a
mysterious
epidemic
of
diarrhea
that
had
forced
still
another
postponement
.
With
sick
call
suspended
and
the
door
to
the
medical
tent
nailed
shut
,
Doc
Daneeka
spent
the
intervals
between
rain
perched
on
a
high
stool
,
wordlessly
absorbing
the
bleak
outbreak
of
fear
with
a
sorrowing
neutrality
,
roosting
like
a
melancholy
buzzard
below
the
ominous
,
hand
-
lettered
sign
tacked
up
on
the
closed
door
of
the
medical
tent
by
Captain
Black
as
a
joke
and
left
hanging
there
by
Doc
Daneeka
because
it
was
no
joke
.
The
sign
was
bordered
in
dark
crayon
and
read
:
"
CLOSED
UNTIL
FURTHER
NOTICE
.
DEATH
IN
THE
FAMILY
.
"
The
fear
flowed
everywhere
,
into
Dunbar
’
s
squadron
,
where
Dunbar
poked
his
head
inquiringly
through
the
entrance
of
the
medical
tent
there
one
twilight
and
spoke
respectfully
to
the
blurred
outline
of
Dr
.
Stubbs
,
who
was
sitting
in
the
dense
shadows
inside
before
a
bottle
of
whiskey
and
a
bell
jar
filled
with
purified
drinking
water
.
"
Are
you
all
right
?
"
he
asked
solicitously
.
"
Terrible
,
"
Dr
.
Stubbs
answered
.
"
What
are
you
doing
here
?
"
"
Sitting
.
"
