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- Джозеф Хеллер
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- Уловка 22
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- Стр. 127/452
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It
was
Sergeant
Knight
and
the
cruel
series
of
postponements
,
for
just
as
they
were
climbing
up
into
their
planes
that
first
morning
,
along
came
a
jeep
with
the
news
that
it
was
raining
in
Bologna
and
that
the
mission
would
be
delayed
.
It
was
raining
in
Pianosa
too
by
the
time
they
returned
to
the
squadron
,
and
they
had
the
rest
of
that
day
to
stare
woodenly
at
the
bomb
line
on
the
map
under
the
awning
of
the
intelligence
tent
and
ruminate
hypnotically
on
the
fact
that
there
was
no
escape
.
The
evidence
was
there
vividly
in
the
narrow
red
ribbon
tacked
across
the
mainland
:
the
ground
forces
in
Italy
were
pinned
down
forty
-
two
insurmountable
miles
south
of
the
target
and
could
not
possibly
capture
the
city
in
time
.
Nothing
could
save
the
men
in
Pianosa
from
the
mission
to
Bologna
.
They
were
trapped
.
Their
only
hope
was
that
it
would
never
stop
raining
,
and
they
had
no
hope
because
they
all
knew
it
would
.
When
it
did
stop
raining
in
Pianosa
,
it
rained
in
Bologna
.
When
it
stopped
raining
in
Bologna
,
it
began
again
in
Pianosa
.
If
there
was
no
rain
at
all
,
there
were
freakish
,
inexplicable
phenomena
like
the
epidemic
of
diarrhea
or
the
bomb
line
that
moved
.
Four
times
during
the
first
six
days
they
were
assembled
and
briefed
and
then
sent
back
.
Once
,
they
took
off
and
were
flying
in
formation
when
the
control
tower
summoned
them
down
.
The
more
it
rained
,
the
worse
they
suffered
.
The
worse
they
suffered
,
the
more
they
prayed
that
it
would
continue
raining
.
All
through
the
night
,
men
looked
at
the
sky
and
were
saddened
by
the
stars
.
All
through
the
day
,
they
looked
at
the
bomb
line
on
the
big
,
wobbling
easel
map
of
Italy
that
blew
over
in
the
wind
and
was
dragged
in
under
the
awning
of
the
intelligence
tent
every
time
the
rain
began
.
The
bomb
line
was
a
scarlet
band
of
narrow
satin
ribbon
that
delineated
the
forwardmost
position
of
the
Allied
ground
forces
in
every
sector
of
the
Italian
mainland
.
The
morning
after
Hungry
Joe
’
s
fist
fight
with
Huple
’
s
cat
,
the
rain
stopped
falling
in
both
places
.
The
landing
strip
began
to
dry
.
It
would
take
a
full
twenty
-
four
hours
to
harden
;
but
the
sky
remained
cloudless
.
The
resentments
incubating
in
each
man
hatched
into
hatred
.
First
they
hated
the
infantrymen
on
the
mainland
because
they
had
failed
to
capture
Bologna
.
Then
they
began
to
hate
the
bomb
line
itself
.
For
hours
they
stared
relentlessly
at
the
scarlet
ribbon
on
the
map
and
hated
it
because
it
would
not
move
up
high
enough
to
encompass
the
city
.
When
night
fell
,
they
congregated
in
the
darkness
with
flashlights
,
continuing
their
macabre
vigil
at
the
bomb
line
in
brooding
entreaty
as
though
hoping
to
move
the
ribbon
up
by
the
collective
weight
of
their
sullen
prayers
.
"
I
really
can
’
t
believe
it
,
"
Clevinger
exclaimed
to
Yossarian
in
a
voice
rising
and
falling
in
protest
and
wonder
.
"
It
’
s
a
complete
reversion
to
primitive
superstition
.
They
’
re
confusing
cause
and
effect
.
It
makes
as
much
sense
as
knocking
on
wood
or
crossing
your
fingers
.
They
really
believe
that
we
wouldn
’
t
have
to
fly
that
mission
tomorrow
if
someone
would
only
tiptoe
up
to
the
map
in
the
middle
of
the
night
and
move
the
bomb
line
over
Bologna
.
Can
you
imagine
?
You
and
I
must
be
the
only
rational
ones
left
.
"
In
the
middle
of
the
night
Yossarian
knocked
on
wood
,
crossed
his
fingers
,
and
tiptoed
out
of
his
tent
to
move
the
bomb
line
up
over
Bologna
.
Corporal
Kolodny
tiptoed
steathily
into
Captain
Black
’
s
tent
early
the
next
morning
,
reached
inside
the
mosquito
net
and
gently
shook
the
moist
shoulder
blade
he
found
there
until
Captain
Black
opened
his
eyes
.
"
What
are
you
waking
me
up
for
?
"
whimpered
Captain
Black
.
"
They
captured
Bologna
,
sir
,
"
said
Corporal
Kolodny
.
"
I
thought
you
’
d
want
to
know
.
Is
the
mission
canceled
?
"
