Kid Sampson

           BythetimeofthemissiontoBologna,Yossarianwasbraveenoughnottogoaroundoverthetargetevenonce,andwhenhefoundhimselfaloftfinallyinthenoseofKidSampson’splane,hepressedinthebuttonofhisthroatmikeandasked,

           "Well?What’swrongwiththeplane?"

           KidSampsonletoutashriek."Issomethingwrongwiththeplane?What’sthematter?"

           KidSampson’scryturnedYossariantoice."Issomethingthematter?"heyelledinhorror."Arewebailingout?"

           "Idon’tknow!"KidSampsonshotbackinanguish,wailingexcitedly."Someonesaidwe’rebailingout!Whoisthis,anyway?Whoisthis?"

           "ThisisYossarianinthenose!Yossarianinthenose.Iheardyousaytherewassomethingthematter.Didn’tyousaytherewassomethingthematter?"

           "Ithoughtyousaidtherewassomethingwrong.Everythingseemsokay.Everythingisallright."

           Yossarian’sheartsank.Somethingwasterriblywrongifeverythingwasallrightandtheyhadnoexcuseforturningback.Hehesitatedgravely.

           "Ican’thearyou,"hesaid.

           "Isaideverythingisallright."

           Thesunwasblindingwhiteontheporcelain-bluewaterbelowandontheflashingedgesoftheotherairplanes.Yossariantookholdofthecoloredwiresleadingintothejackboxoftheintercomsystemandtorethemloose.

           "Istillcan’thearyou,"hesaid.

           Heheardnothing.Slowlyhecollectedhismapcaseandhisthreeflaksuitsandcrawledbacktothemaincompartment.

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