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- Джозеф Хеллер
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- Уловка 22
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- Стр. 2/452
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After
he
made
up
his
mind
to
spend
the
rest
of
the
war
in
the
hospital
,
Yossarian
wrote
letters
to
everyone
he
knew
saying
that
he
was
in
the
hospital
but
never
mentioning
why
.
One
day
he
had
a
better
idea
.
To
everyone
he
knew
he
wrote
that
he
was
going
on
a
very
dangerous
mission
.
"
They
asked
for
volunteers
.
It
’
s
very
dangerous
,
but
someone
has
to
do
it
.
I
’
ll
write
you
the
instant
I
get
back
.
"
And
he
had
not
written
anyone
since
.
All
the
officer
patients
in
the
ward
were
forced
to
censor
letters
written
by
all
the
enlisted
-
men
patients
,
who
were
kept
in
residence
in
wards
of
their
own
.
It
was
a
monotonous
job
,
and
Yossarian
was
disappointed
to
learn
that
the
lives
of
enlisted
men
were
only
slightly
more
interesting
than
the
lives
of
officers
.
After
the
first
day
he
had
no
curiosity
at
all
.
To
break
the
monotony
he
invented
games
.
Death
to
all
modifiers
,
he
declared
one
day
,
and
out
of
every
letter
that
passed
through
his
hands
went
every
adverb
and
every
adjective
.
The
next
day
he
made
war
on
articles
.
He
reached
a
much
higher
plane
of
creativity
the
following
day
when
he
blacked
out
everything
in
the
letters
but
a
,
an
and
the
.
That
erected
more
dynamic
intralinear
tensions
,
he
felt
,
and
in
just
about
every
case
left
a
message
far
more
universal
.
Soon
he
was
proscribing
parts
of
salutations
and
signatures
and
leaving
the
text
untouched
.
One
time
he
blacked
out
all
but
the
salutation
"
Dear
Mary
"
from
a
letter
,
and
at
the
bottom
he
wrote
,
"
I
yearn
for
you
tragically
.
A
.
T
.
Tappman
,
Chaplain
,
U
.
S
.
Army
.
"
A
.
T
.
Tappman
was
the
group
chaplain
’
s
name
.
When
he
had
exhausted
all
possibilities
in
the
letters
,
he
began
attacking
the
names
and
addresses
on
the
envelopes
,
obliterating
whole
homes
and
streets
,
annihilating
entire
metropolises
with
careless
flicks
of
his
wrist
as
though
he
were
God
.
Catch
-
22
required
that
each
censored
letter
bear
the
censoring
officer
’
s
name
.
Most
letters
he
didn
’
t
read
at
all
.
On
those
he
didn
’
t
read
at
all
he
wrote
his
own
name
.
On
those
he
did
read
he
wrote
,
"
Washington
Irving
.
"
When
that
grew
monotonous
he
wrote
,
"
Irving
Washington
.
"
Censoring
the
envelopes
had
serious
repercussions
,
produced
a
ripple
of
anxiety
on
some
ethereal
military
echelon
that
floated
a
C
.
I
.
D
.
man
back
into
the
ward
posing
as
a
patient
.
They
all
knew
he
was
a
C
.
I
.
D
.
man
because
he
kept
inquiring
about
an
officer
named
Irving
or
Washington
and
because
after
his
first
day
there
he
wouldn
’
t
censor
letters
.
He
found
them
too
monotonous
.
It
was
a
good
ward
this
time
,
one
of
the
best
he
and
Dunbar
had
ever
enjoyed
.
With
them
this
time
was
the
twenty
-
four
-
year
-
old
fighter
-
pilot
captain
with
the
sparse
golden
mustache
who
had
been
shot
into
the
Adriatic
Sea
in
midwinter
and
had
not
even
caught
cold
.
Now
the
summer
was
upon
them
,
the
captain
had
not
been
shot
down
,
and
he
said
he
had
the
grippe
.
In
the
bed
on
Yossarian
’
s
right
,
still
lying
amorously
on
his
belly
,
was
the
startled
captain
with
malaria
in
his
blood
and
a
mosquito
bite
on
his
ass
.
Across
the
aisle
from
Yossarian
was
Dunbar
,
and
next
to
Dunbar
was
the
artillery
captain
with
whom
Yossarian
had
stopped
playing
chess
.
The
captain
was
a
good
chess
player
,
and
the
games
were
always
interesting
.
Yossarian
had
stopped
playing
chess
with
him
because
the
games
were
so
interesting
they
were
foolish
.
Then
there
was
the
educated
Texan
from
Texas
who
looked
like
someone
in
Technicolor
and
felt
,
patriotically
,
that
people
of
means
—
decent
folk
—
should
be
given
more
votes
than
drifters
,
whores
,
criminals
,
degenerates
,
atheists
and
indecent
folk
—
people
without
means
.
Yossarian
was
unspringing
rhythms
in
the
letters
the
day
they
brought
the
Texan
in
.
It
was
another
quiet
,
hot
,
untroubled
day
.
The
heat
pressed
heavily
on
the
roof
,
stifling
sound
.
Dunbar
was
lying
motionless
on
his
back
again
with
his
eyes
staring
up
at
the
ceiling
like
a
doll
’
s
.
He
was
working
hard
at
increasing
his
life
span
.
He
did
it
by
cultivating
boredom
.
Dunbar
was
working
so
hard
at
increasing
his
life
span
that
Yossarian
thought
he
was
dead
.
They
put
the
Texan
in
a
bed
in
the
middle
of
the
ward
,
and
it
wasn
’
t
long
before
he
donated
his
views
.
Dunbar
sat
up
like
a
shot
.
"
That
’
s
it
,
"
he
cried
excitedly
.
"
There
was
something
missing
—
all
the
time
I
knew
there
was
something
missing
—
and
now
I
know
what
it
is
.
"
He
banged
his
fist
down
into
his
palm
.
"
No
patriotism
,
"
he
declared
.
"
You
’
re
right
,
"
Yossarian
shouted
back
.
"
You
’
re
right
,
you
’
re
right
,
you
’
re
right
.
The
hot
dog
,
the
Brooklyn
Dodgers
.
Mom
’
s
apple
pie
.
That
’
s
what
everyone
’
s
fighting
for
.
But
who
’
s
fighting
for
the
decent
folk
?
Who
’
s
fighting
for
more
votes
for
the
decent
folk
?
There
’
s
no
patriotism
,
that
’
s
what
it
is
.
And
no
matriotism
,
either
.
"
The
warrant
officer
on
Yossarian
’
s
left
was
unimpressed
.
"
Who
gives
a
shit
?
"
he
asked
tiredly
,
and
turned
over
on
his
side
to
go
to
sleep
.
