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- Джозеф Хеллер
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- Уловка 22
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- Стр. 213/452
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Actually
,
the
chaplain
was
learning
to
love
it
in
his
clearing
in
the
woods
.
Both
he
and
Corporal
Whitcomb
had
been
provided
with
every
convenience
so
that
neither
might
ever
plead
discomfort
as
a
basis
for
seeking
permission
to
return
to
the
Headquarters
building
.
The
chaplain
rotated
his
breakfasts
,
lunches
and
dinners
in
separate
sets
among
the
eight
squadron
mess
halls
and
ate
every
fifth
meal
in
the
enlisted
men
’
s
mess
at
Group
Headquarters
and
every
tenth
meal
at
the
officers
"
mess
there
.
Back
home
in
Wisconsin
the
chaplain
had
been
very
fond
of
gardening
,
and
his
heart
welled
with
a
glorious
impression
of
fertility
and
fruition
each
time
he
contemplated
the
low
,
prickly
boughs
of
the
stunted
trees
and
the
waist
-
high
weeds
and
thickets
by
which
he
was
almost
walled
in
.
In
the
spring
he
had
longed
to
plant
begonias
and
zinnias
in
a
narrow
bed
around
his
tent
but
had
been
deterred
by
his
fear
of
Corporal
Whitcomb
’
s
rancor
.
The
chaplain
relished
the
privacy
and
isolation
of
his
verdant
surroundings
and
the
reverie
and
meditation
that
living
there
fostered
.
Fewer
people
came
to
him
with
their
troubles
than
formerly
,
and
he
allowed
himself
a
measure
of
gratitude
for
that
too
.
The
chaplain
did
not
mix
freely
and
was
not
comfortable
in
conversation
.
He
missed
his
wife
and
his
three
small
children
,
and
she
missed
him
.
What
displeased
Corporal
Whitcomb
most
about
the
chaplain
,
apart
from
the
fact
that
the
chaplain
believed
in
God
,
was
his
lack
of
initiative
and
aggressiveness
.
Corporal
Whitcomb
regarded
the
low
attendance
at
religious
services
as
a
sad
reflection
of
his
own
status
.
His
mind
germinated
feverishly
with
challenging
new
ideas
for
sparking
the
great
spiritual
revival
of
which
he
dreamed
himself
the
architect
—
box
lunches
,
church
socials
,
form
letters
to
the
families
of
men
killed
and
injured
in
combat
,
censorship
,
Bingo
.
But
the
chaplain
blocked
him
.
Corporal
Whitcomb
bridled
with
vexation
beneath
the
chaplain
’
s
restraint
,
for
he
spied
room
for
improvement
everywhere
.
It
was
people
like
the
chaplain
,
he
concluded
,
who
were
responsible
for
giving
religion
such
a
bad
name
and
making
pariahs
out
of
them
both
.
Unlike
the
chaplain
,
Corporal
Whitcomb
detested
the
seclusion
of
the
clearing
in
the
woods
.
One
of
the
first
things
he
intended
to
do
after
he
deposed
the
chaplain
was
move
back
into
the
Group
Headquarters
building
,
where
he
could
be
right
in
the
thick
of
things
.
When
the
chaplain
drove
back
into
the
clearing
after
leaving
Colonel
Korn
,
Corporal
Whitcomb
was
outside
in
the
muggy
haze
talking
in
conspiratorial
tones
to
a
strange
chubby
man
in
a
maroon
corduroy
bathrobe
and
gray
flannel
pajamas
.
The
chaplain
recognized
the
bathrobe
and
pajamas
as
official
hospital
attire
.
Neither
of
the
two
men
gave
him
any
sign
of
recognition
.
The
stranger
’
s
gums
had
been
painted
purple
;
his
corduroy
bathrobe
was
decorated
in
back
with
a
picture
of
a
B
-
25
nosing
through
orange
bursts
of
flak
and
in
front
with
six
neat
rows
of
tiny
bombs
signifying
sixty
combat
missions
flown
.
The
chaplain
was
so
struck
by
the
sight
that
he
stopped
to
stare
.
Both
men
broke
off
their
conversation
and
waited
in
stony
silence
for
him
to
go
.
The
chaplain
hurried
inside
his
tent
.
He
heard
,
or
imagined
he
heard
,
them
tittering
.
Corporal
Whitcomb
walked
in
a
moment
later
and
demanded
,
"
What
’
s
doing
?
"
"
There
isn
’
t
anything
new
,
"
the
chaplain
replied
with
averted
eyes
.
"
Was
anyone
here
to
see
me
?
"
"
Just
that
crackpot
Yossarian
again
.
He
’
s
a
real
troublemaker
,
isn
’
t
he
?
"
"
I
’
m
not
so
sure
he
’
s
a
crackpot
,
"
the
chaplain
observed
.
