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- Джозеф Хеллер
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- Уловка 22
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- Стр. 431/452
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"
We
’
ve
got
your
pal
,
buddy
.
We
’
ve
got
your
pal
.
"
Yossarian
was
unnerved
.
"
What
the
hell
are
you
talking
about
?
"
he
pleaded
in
incipient
panic
.
"
You
’
ll
find
out
,
buddy
.
You
’
ll
find
out
.
"
Yossarian
lunged
for
his
tormentor
’
s
throat
with
one
hand
,
but
the
man
glided
out
of
reach
effortlessly
and
vanished
into
the
corridor
with
a
malicious
laugh
.
Yossarian
lay
there
trembling
with
a
pounding
pulse
.
He
was
bathed
in
icy
sweat
.
He
wondered
who
his
pal
was
.
It
was
dark
in
the
hospital
and
perfectly
quiet
.
He
had
no
watch
to
tell
him
the
time
.
He
was
wide
-
awake
,
and
he
knew
he
was
a
prisoner
in
one
of
those
sleepless
,
bedridden
nights
that
would
take
an
eternity
to
dissolve
into
dawn
.
A
throbbing
chill
oozed
up
his
legs
.
He
was
cold
,
and
he
thought
of
Snowden
,
who
had
never
been
his
pal
but
was
a
vaguely
familiar
kid
who
was
badly
wounded
and
freezing
to
death
in
the
puddle
of
harsh
yellow
sunlight
splashing
into
his
face
through
the
side
gunport
when
Yossarian
crawled
into
the
rear
section
of
the
plane
over
the
bomb
bay
after
Dobbs
had
beseeched
him
on
the
intercom
to
help
the
gunner
,
please
help
the
gunner
.
Yossarian
’
s
stomach
turned
over
when
his
eyes
first
beheld
the
macabre
scene
;
he
was
absolutely
revolted
,
and
he
paused
in
fright
a
few
moments
before
descending
,
crouched
on
his
hands
and
knees
in
the
narrow
tunnel
over
the
bomb
bay
beside
the
sealed
corrugated
carton
containing
the
first
-
aid
kit
.
Snowden
was
lying
on
his
back
on
the
floor
with
his
legs
stretched
out
,
still
burdened
cumbersomely
by
his
flak
suit
,
his
flak
helmet
,
his
parachute
harness
and
his
Mae
West
.
Not
far
away
on
the
floor
lay
the
small
tail
-
gunner
in
a
dead
faint
.
The
wound
Yossarian
saw
was
in
the
outside
of
Snowden
’
s
thigh
,
as
large
and
deep
as
a
football
,
it
seemed
.
It
was
impossible
to
tell
where
the
shreds
of
his
saturated
coveralls
ended
and
the
ragged
flesh
began
.
There
was
no
morphine
in
the
first
-
aid
kit
,
no
protection
for
Snowden
against
pain
but
the
numbing
shock
of
the
gaping
wound
itself
.
The
twelve
syrettes
of
morphine
had
been
stolen
from
their
case
and
replaced
by
a
cleanly
lettered
note
that
said
:
"
What
’
s
good
for
M
&
M
Enterprises
is
good
for
the
country
.
Milo
Minderbinder
.
"
Yossarian
swore
at
Milo
and
held
two
aspirins
out
to
ashen
lips
unable
to
receive
them
.
But
first
he
hastily
drew
a
tourniquet
around
Snowden
’
s
thigh
because
he
could
not
think
what
else
to
do
in
those
first
tumultuous
moments
when
his
senses
were
in
turmoil
,
when
he
knew
he
must
act
competently
at
once
and
feared
he
might
go
to
pieces
completely
.
Snowden
watched
him
steadily
,
saying
nothing
.
No
artery
was
spurting
,
but
Yossarian
pretended
to
absorb
himself
entirely
into
the
fashioning
of
a
tourniquet
,
because
applying
a
tourniquet
was
something
he
did
know
how
to
do
.
He
worked
with
simulated
skill
and
composure
,
feeling
Snowden
’
s
lack
-
luster
gaze
resting
upon
him
.
He
recovered
possession
of
himself
before
the
tourniquet
was
finished
and
loosened
it
immediately
to
lessen
the
danger
of
gangrene
.
His
mind
was
clear
now
,
and
he
knew
how
to
proceed
.
He
rummaged
through
the
first
-
aid
kit
for
scissors
.
"
I
’
m
cold
,
"
Snowden
said
softly
.
"
I
’
m
cold
.
"
"
You
’
re
going
to
be
all
right
,
kid
,
"
Yossarian
reassured
him
with
a
grin
.
"
You
’
re
going
to
be
all
right
.
"
"
I
’
m
cold
,
"
Snowden
said
again
in
a
frail
,
childlike
voice
.
"
I
’
m
cold
.
"
"
There
,
there
,
"
Yossarian
said
,
because
he
did
not
know
what
else
to
say
.
"
There
,
there
.
"
"
I
’
m
cold
,
"
Snowden
whimpered
.
"
I
’
m
cold
.
"
