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- Джозеф Хеллер
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"
And
what
did
Major
Major
say
?
"
"
Major
Major
told
him
there
was
nothing
he
could
do
.
"
The
chaplain
’
s
face
fell
.
"
Major
Major
said
that
?
"
"
Yes
,
sir
.
In
fact
,
he
advised
Yossarian
to
go
see
you
for
help
.
Are
you
certain
you
wouldn
’
t
like
to
leave
a
note
,
sir
?
I
have
a
pencil
and
paper
right
here
.
"
The
chaplain
shook
his
head
,
chewing
his
clotted
dry
lower
lip
forlornly
,
and
walked
out
.
It
was
still
so
early
in
the
day
,
and
so
much
had
already
happened
.
The
air
was
cooler
in
the
forest
.
His
throat
was
parched
and
sore
.
He
walked
slowly
and
asked
himself
ruefully
what
new
misfortune
could
possibly
befall
him
a
moment
before
the
mad
hermit
in
the
woods
leaped
out
at
him
without
warning
from
behind
a
mulberry
bush
.
The
chaplain
screamed
at
the
top
of
his
voice
.
The
tall
,
cadaverous
stranger
fell
back
in
fright
at
the
chaplain
’
s
cry
and
shrieked
,
"
Don
’
t
hurt
me
!
"
"
Who
are
you
?
"
the
chaplain
shouted
.
"
Please
don
’
t
hurt
me
!
"
the
man
shouted
back
.
"
I
’
m
the
chaplain
!
"
"
Then
why
do
you
want
to
hurt
me
?
"
"
I
don
’
t
want
to
hurt
you
!
"
the
chaplain
insisted
with
a
rising
hint
of
exasperation
,
even
though
he
was
still
rooted
to
the
spot
.
"
Just
tell
me
who
you
are
and
what
you
want
from
me
.
"
"
I
just
want
to
find
out
if
Chief
White
Halfoat
died
of
pneumonia
yet
,
"
the
man
shouted
back
.
"
That
’
s
all
I
want
.
I
live
here
.
My
name
is
Flume
.
I
belong
to
the
squadron
,
but
I
live
here
in
the
woods
.
You
can
ask
anyone
.
"
The
chaplain
’
s
composure
began
trickling
back
as
he
studied
the
queer
,
cringing
figure
intently
.
A
pair
of
captain
’
s
bars
ulcerated
with
rust
hung
on
the
man
’
s
ragged
shirt
collar
.
He
had
a
hairy
,
tar
-
black
mole
on
the
underside
of
one
nostril
and
a
heavy
rough
mustache
the
color
of
poplar
bark
.
