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- Джозеф Хеллер
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- Уловка 22
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- Стр. 215/452
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"
Yes
,
I
do
,
"
the
chaplain
assured
him
guiltily
.
"
I
have
lots
of
confidence
in
you
.
"
"
Then
how
about
those
letters
?
"
"
No
,
not
now
,
"
the
chaplain
pleaded
,
cringing
.
"
Not
the
letters
.
Please
don
’
t
bring
that
up
again
.
I
’
ll
let
you
know
if
I
have
a
change
of
mind
.
"
Corporal
Whitcomb
looked
furious
.
"
Is
that
so
?
Well
,
it
’
s
all
right
for
you
to
just
sit
there
and
shake
your
head
while
I
do
all
the
work
.
Didn
’
t
you
see
the
guy
outside
with
all
those
pictures
painted
on
his
bathrobe
?
"
"
Is
he
here
to
see
me
?
"
"
No
,
"
Corporal
Whitcomb
said
,
and
walked
out
.
It
was
hot
and
humid
inside
the
tent
,
and
the
chaplain
felt
himself
turning
damp
.
He
listened
like
an
unwilling
eavesdropper
to
the
muffled
,
indistinguishable
drone
of
the
lowered
voices
outside
.
As
he
sat
inertly
at
the
rickety
bridge
table
that
served
as
a
desk
,
his
lips
were
closed
,
his
eyes
were
blank
,
and
his
face
,
with
its
pale
ochre
hue
and
ancient
,
confined
clusters
of
minute
acne
pits
,
had
the
color
and
texture
of
an
uncracked
almond
shell
.
He
racked
his
memory
for
some
clue
to
the
origin
of
Corporal
Whitcomb
’
s
bitterness
toward
him
.
In
some
way
he
was
unable
to
fathom
,
he
was
convinced
he
had
done
him
some
unforgivable
wrong
.
It
seemed
incredible
that
such
lasting
ire
as
Corporal
Whitcomb
’
s
could
have
stemmed
from
his
rejection
of
Bingo
or
the
form
letters
home
to
the
families
of
the
men
killed
in
combat
.
The
chaplain
was
despondent
with
an
acceptance
of
his
own
ineptitude
.
He
had
intended
for
some
weeks
to
have
a
heart
-
to
-
heart
talk
with
Corporal
Whitcomb
in
order
to
find
out
what
was
bothering
him
,
but
was
already
ashamed
of
what
he
might
find
out
.
Outside
the
tent
,
Corporal
Whitcomb
snickered
.
The
other
man
chuckled
.
For
a
few
precarious
seconds
,
the
chaplain
tingled
with
a
weird
,
occult
sensation
of
having
experienced
the
identical
situation
before
in
some
prior
time
or
existence
.
He
endeavored
to
trap
and
nourish
the
impression
in
order
to
predict
,
and
perhaps
even
control
,
what
incident
would
occur
next
,
but
the
afatus
melted
away
unproductively
,
as
he
had
known
beforehand
it
would
.
Déjà
vu
.
The
subtle
,
recurring
confusion
between
illusion
and
reality
that
was
characteristic
of
paramnesia
fascinated
the
chaplain
,
and
he
knew
a
number
of
things
about
it
.
He
knew
,
for
example
,
that
it
was
called
paramnesia
,
and
he
was
interested
as
well
in
such
corollary
optical
phenomena
as
jamais
vu
,
never
seen
,
and
presque
vu
,
almost
seen
.
There
were
terrifying
,
sudden
moments
when
objects
,
concepts
and
even
people
that
the
chaplain
had
lived
with
almost
all
his
life
inexplicably
took
on
an
unfamiliar
and
irregular
aspect
that
he
had
never
seen
before
and
which
made
them
totally
strange
:
jamais
vu
.
And
there
were
other
moments
when
he
almost
saw
absolute
truth
in
brilliant
flashes
of
clarity
that
almost
came
to
him
:
presque
vu
.
The
episode
of
the
naked
man
in
the
tree
at
Snowden
’
s
funeral
mystified
him
thoroughly
.
It
was
not
déjà
vu
,
for
at
the
time
he
had
experienced
no
sensation
of
ever
having
seen
a
naked
man
in
a
tree
at
Snowden
’
s
funeral
before
.
It
was
not
jamais
vu
,
since
the
apparition
was
not
of
someone
,
or
something
,
familiar
appearing
to
him
in
an
unfamiliar
guise
.
And
it
was
certainly
not
presque
vu
,
for
the
chaplain
did
see
him
.
A
jeep
started
up
with
a
backfire
directly
outside
and
roared
away
.
Had
the
naked
man
in
the
tree
at
Snowden
’
s
funeral
been
merely
a
hallucination
?
Or
had
it
been
a
true
revelation
?
The
chaplain
trembled
at
the
mere
idea
.
He
wanted
desperately
to
confide
in
Yossarian
,
but
each
time
he
thought
about
the
occurrence
he
decided
not
to
think
about
it
any
further
,
although
now
that
he
did
think
about
it
he
could
not
be
sure
that
he
ever
really
had
thought
about
it
.
