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- Джозеф Хеллер
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- Уловка 22
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- Стр. 157/452
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"
For
an
intercom
?
"
asked
Kid
Sampson
incredulously
.
"
Turn
back
,
"
said
Yossarian
,
"
before
I
break
your
head
.
"
Kid
Sampson
looked
for
moral
support
toward
Nately
,
who
stared
away
from
him
pointedly
.
Yossarian
outranked
them
both
.
Kid
Sampson
resisted
doubtfully
for
another
moment
and
then
capitulated
eagerly
with
a
triumphant
whoop
.
"
That
’
s
just
fine
with
me
,
"
he
announced
gladly
,
and
blew
out
a
shrill
series
of
whistles
up
into
his
mustache
.
"
Yes
sirree
,
that
’
s
just
fine
with
old
Kid
Sampson
.
"
He
whistled
again
and
shouted
over
the
intercom
.
"
Now
hear
this
,
my
little
chickadees
.
This
is
Admiral
Kid
Sampson
talking
.
This
is
Admiral
Kid
Sampson
squawking
,
the
pride
of
the
Queen
’
s
marines
.
Yessiree
.
We
’
re
turning
back
,
boys
,
by
crackee
,
we
’
re
turning
back
!
"
Nately
ripped
off
his
hat
and
earphones
in
one
jubilant
sweep
and
began
rocking
back
and
forth
happily
like
a
handsome
child
in
a
high
chair
.
Sergeant
Knight
came
plummeting
down
from
the
top
gun
turret
and
began
pounding
them
all
on
the
back
with
delirious
enthusiasm
.
Kid
Sampson
turned
the
plane
away
from
the
formation
in
a
wide
,
graceful
arc
and
headed
toward
the
airfield
.
When
Yossarian
plugged
his
headset
into
one
of
the
auxiliary
jackboxes
,
the
two
gunners
in
the
rear
section
of
the
plane
were
both
singing
"
La
Cucaracha
.
"
Back
at
the
field
,
the
party
fizzled
out
abruptly
.
An
uneasy
silence
replaced
it
,
and
Yossarian
was
sober
and
self
-
conscious
as
he
climbed
down
from
the
plane
and
took
his
place
in
the
jeep
that
was
already
waiting
for
them
.
None
of
the
men
spoke
at
all
on
the
drive
back
through
the
heavy
,
mesmerizing
quiet
blanketing
mountains
,
sea
and
forests
.
The
feeling
of
desolation
persisted
when
they
turned
off
the
road
at
the
squadron
.
Yossarian
got
out
of
the
car
last
.
After
a
minute
,
Yossarian
and
a
gentle
warm
wind
were
the
only
things
stirring
in
the
haunting
tranquillity
that
hung
like
a
drug
over
the
vacated
tents
.
The
squadron
stood
insensate
,
bereft
of
everything
human
but
Doc
Daneeka
,
who
roosted
dolorously
like
a
shivering
turkey
buzzard
beside
the
closed
door
of
the
medical
tent
,
his
stuffed
nose
jabbing
away
in
thirsting
futility
at
the
hazy
sunlight
streaming
down
around
him
.
Yossarian
knew
Doc
Daneeka
would
not
go
swimming
with
him
.
Doc
Daneeka
would
never
go
swimming
again
;
a
person
could
swoon
or
suffer
a
mild
coronary
occlusion
in
an
inch
or
two
of
water
and
drown
to
death
,
be
carried
out
to
sea
by
an
undertow
,
or
made
vulnerable
to
poliomyelitis
or
meningococcus
infection
through
chilling
or
overexertion
.
The
threat
of
Bologna
to
others
had
instilled
in
Doc
Daneeka
an
even
more
poignant
solicitude
for
his
own
safety
.
At
night
now
,
he
heard
burglars
.
Through
the
lavender
gloom
clouding
the
entrance
of
the
operations
tent
,
Yossarian
glimpsed
Chief
White
Halfoat
,
diligently
embezzling
whiskey
rations
,
forging
the
signatures
of
nondrinkers
and
pouring
off
the
alcohol
with
which
he
was
poisoning
himself
into
separate
bottles
rapidly
in
order
to
steal
as
much
as
he
could
before
Captain
Black
roused
himself
with
recollection
and
came
hurrying
over
indolently
to
steal
the
rest
himself
.
The
jeep
started
up
again
softly
.
Kid
Sampson
,
Nately
and
the
others
wandered
apart
in
a
noiseless
eddy
of
motion
and
were
sucked
away
into
the
cloying
yellow
stillness
.
The
jeep
vanished
with
a
cough
.
Yossarian
was
alone
in
a
ponderous
,
primeval
lull
in
which
everything
green
looked
black
and
everything
else
was
imbued
with
the
color
of
pus
.
