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- Джозеф Хеллер
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- Уловка 22
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- Стр. 265/452
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People
with
loud
voices
frightened
him
.
Brave
,
aggressive
men
of
action
like
Colonel
Cathcart
left
him
feeling
helpless
and
alone
.
Wherever
he
went
in
the
Army
,
he
was
a
stranger
.
Enlisted
men
and
officers
did
not
conduct
themselves
with
him
as
they
conducted
themselves
with
other
enlisted
men
and
officers
,
and
even
other
chaplains
were
not
as
friendly
toward
him
as
they
were
toward
each
other
.
In
a
world
in
which
success
was
the
only
virtue
,
he
had
resigned
himself
to
failure
.
He
was
painfully
aware
that
he
lacked
the
ecclesiastical
aplomb
and
savoir
-
faire
that
enabled
so
many
of
his
colleagues
in
other
faiths
and
sects
to
get
ahead
.
He
was
just
not
equipped
to
excel
.
He
thought
of
himself
as
ugly
and
wanted
daily
to
be
home
with
his
wife
.
Actually
,
the
chaplain
was
almost
good
-
looking
,
with
a
pleasant
,
sensitive
face
as
pale
and
brittle
as
sandstone
.
His
mind
was
open
on
every
subject
.
Perhaps
he
really
was
Washington
Irving
,
and
perhaps
he
really
had
been
signing
Washington
Irving
’
s
name
to
those
letters
he
knew
nothing
about
.
Such
lapses
of
memory
were
not
uncommon
in
medical
annals
,
he
knew
.
There
was
no
way
of
really
knowing
anything
.
He
remembered
very
distinctly
—
or
was
under
the
impression
he
remembered
very
distinctly
—
his
feeling
that
he
had
met
Yossarian
somewhere
before
the
first
time
he
had
met
Yossarian
lying
in
bed
in
the
hospital
.
He
remembered
experiencing
the
same
disquieting
sensation
almost
two
weeks
later
when
Yossarian
appeared
at
his
tent
to
ask
to
be
taken
off
combat
duty
.
By
that
time
,
of
course
,
the
chaplain
had
met
Yossarian
somewhere
before
,
in
that
odd
,
unorthodox
ward
in
which
every
patient
seemed
delinquent
but
the
unfortunate
patient
covered
from
head
to
toe
in
white
bandages
and
plaster
who
was
found
dead
one
day
with
a
thermometer
in
his
mouth
.
But
the
chaplain
’
s
impression
of
a
prior
meeting
was
of
some
occasion
far
more
momentous
and
occult
than
that
,
of
a
significant
encounter
with
Yossarian
in
some
remote
,
submerged
and
perhaps
even
entirely
spiritual
epoch
in
which
he
had
made
the
identical
,
foredooming
admission
that
there
was
nothing
,
absolutely
nothing
,
he
could
do
to
help
him
.
Doubts
of
such
kind
gnawed
at
the
chaplain
’
s
lean
,
suffering
frame
insatiably
.
Was
there
a
single
true
faith
,
or
a
life
after
death
?
How
many
angels
could
dance
on
the
head
of
a
pin
,
and
with
what
matters
did
God
occupy
himself
in
all
the
infinite
aeons
before
the
Creation
?
Why
was
it
necessary
to
put
a
protective
seal
on
the
brow
of
Cain
if
there
were
no
other
people
to
protect
him
from
?
Did
Adam
and
Eve
produce
daughters
?
These
were
the
great
,
complex
questions
of
ontology
that
tormented
him
.
Yet
they
never
seemed
nearly
as
crucial
to
him
as
the
question
of
kindness
and
good
manners
.
He
was
pinched
perspinngly
in
the
epistemological
dilemma
of
the
skeptic
,
unable
to
accept
solutions
to
problems
he
was
unwilling
to
dismiss
as
unsolvable
.
He
was
never
without
misery
,
and
never
without
hope
.
"
Have
you
ever
,
"
he
inquired
hesitantly
of
Yossarian
that
day
in
his
tent
as
Yossarian
sat
holding
in
both
hands
the
warm
bottle
of
Coca
-
Cola
with
which
the
chaplain
had
been
able
to
solace
him
,
"
been
in
a
situation
which
you
felt
you
had
been
in
before
,
even
though
you
knew
you
were
experiencing
it
for
the
first
time
?
"
Yossarian
nodded
perfunctorily
,
and
the
chaplain
’
s
breath
quickened
in
anticipation
as
he
made
ready
to
join
his
will
power
with
Yossarian
’
s
in
a
prodigious
effort
to
rip
away
at
last
the
voluminous
black
folds
shrouding
the
eternal
mysteries
of
existence
.
"
Do
you
have
that
feeling
now
?
"
Yossarian
shook
his
head
and
explained
that
déjà
vu
was
just
a
momentary
infinitesimal
lag
in
the
operation
of
two
coactive
sensory
nerve
centers
that
commonly
functioned
simultaneously
.
The
chaplain
scarcely
heard
him
.
He
was
disappointed
,
but
not
inclined
to
believe
Yossarian
,
for
he
had
been
given
a
sign
,
a
secret
,
enigmatic
vision
that
he
still
lacked
the
boldness
to
divulge
.
There
was
no
mistaking
the
awesome
implications
of
the
chaplain
’
s
revelation
:
it
was
either
an
insight
of
divine
origin
or
a
hallucination
;
he
was
either
blessed
or
losing
his
mind
.
Both
prospects
filled
him
with
equal
fear
and
depression
.
It
was
neither
déjà
vu
,
presque
vu
nor
jamais
vu
.
It
was
possible
that
there
were
other
vus
of
which
he
had
never
heard
and
that
one
of
these
other
vus
would
explain
succinctly
the
bafing
phenomenon
of
which
he
had
been
both
a
witness
and
a
part
;
it
was
even
possible
that
none
of
what
he
thought
had
taken
place
,
really
had
taken
place
,
that
he
was
dealing
with
an
aberration
of
memory
rather
than
of
perception
,
that
he
never
really
had
thought
he
had
seen
,
that
his
impression
now
that
he
once
had
thought
so
was
merely
the
illusion
of
an
illusion
,
and
that
he
was
only
now
imagining
that
he
had
ever
once
imagined
seeing
a
naked
man
sitting
in
a
tree
at
the
cemetery
.
It
was
obvious
to
the
chaplain
now
that
he
was
not
particularly
well
suited
to
his
work
,
and
he
often
speculated
whether
he
might
not
be
happier
serving
in
some
other
branch
of
the
service
,
as
a
private
in
the
infantry
or
field
artillery
,
perhaps
,
or
even
as
a
paratrooper
.
He
had
no
real
friends
.
Before
meeting
Yossarian
,
there
was
no
one
in
the
group
with
whom
he
felt
at
ease
,
and
he
was
hardly
at
ease
with
Yossarian
,
whose
frequent
rash
and
insubordinate
outbursts
kept
him
almost
constantly
on
edge
and
in
an
ambiguous
state
of
enjoyable
trepidation
.
The
chaplain
felt
safe
when
he
was
at
the
officers
"
club
with
Yossarian
and
Dunbar
,
and
even
with
just
Nately
and
McWatt
.
