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- Джозеф Хеллер
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- Уловка 22
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- Стр. 89/452
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"
Justice
?
"
The
colonel
was
astounded
.
"
What
is
justice
?
"
"
Justice
,
sir
—
"
"
That
’
s
not
what
justice
is
,
"
the
colonel
jeered
,
and
began
pounding
the
table
again
with
his
big
fat
hand
.
"
That
’
s
what
Karl
Marx
is
.
I
’
ll
tell
you
what
justice
is
.
Justice
is
a
knee
in
the
gut
from
the
floor
on
the
chin
at
night
sneaky
with
a
knife
brought
up
down
on
the
magazine
of
a
battleship
sandbagged
underhanded
in
the
dark
without
a
word
of
warning
.
Garroting
.
That
’
s
what
justice
is
when
we
’
ve
all
got
to
be
tough
enough
and
rough
enough
to
fight
Billy
Petrolle
.
From
the
hip
.
Get
it
?
"
"
No
,
sir
.
"
"
Don
’
t
sir
me
!
"
"
Yes
,
sir
.
"
"
And
say
‘
sir
’
when
you
don
’
t
,
"
ordered
Major
Metcalf
.
Clevinger
was
guilty
,
of
course
,
or
he
would
not
have
been
accused
,
and
since
the
only
way
to
prove
it
was
to
find
him
guilty
,
it
was
their
patriotic
duty
to
do
so
.
He
was
sentenced
to
walk
fifty
-
seven
punishment
tours
.
Popinjay
was
locked
up
to
be
taught
a
lesson
,
and
Major
Metcalf
was
shipped
to
the
Solomon
Islands
to
bury
bodies
.
A
punishment
tour
for
Clevinger
was
fifty
minutes
of
a
weekend
hour
spent
pacing
back
and
forth
before
the
provost
marshal
’
s
building
with
a
ton
of
an
unloaded
rifle
on
his
shoulder
.
It
was
all
very
confusing
to
Clevinger
.
There
were
many
strange
things
taking
place
,
but
the
strangest
of
all
,
to
Clevinger
,
was
the
hatred
,
the
brutal
,
uncloaked
,
inexorable
hatred
of
the
members
of
the
Action
Board
,
glazing
their
unforgiving
expressions
with
a
hard
,
vindictive
surface
,
glowing
in
their
narrowed
eyes
malignantly
like
inextinguishable
coals
.
Clevinger
was
stunned
to
discover
it
.
They
would
have
lynched
him
if
they
could
.
They
were
three
grown
men
and
he
was
a
boy
,
and
they
hated
him
and
wished
him
dead
.
They
had
hated
him
before
he
came
,
hated
him
while
he
was
there
,
hated
him
after
he
left
,
carried
their
hatred
for
him
away
malignantly
like
some
pampered
treasure
after
they
separated
from
each
other
and
went
to
their
solitude
.
