Уловка 22

The Cellar

           Thereweresomanyothermen,hefelt,whocouldprovemoresatisfyingtohersexually.Whenhethoughtofdeathnow,healwaysthoughtofhiswife,andwhenhethoughtofhiswifehealwaysthoughtoflosingher.

           InanotherminutethechaplainfeltstrongenoughtoriseandwalkwithglumreluctancetothetentnextdoorforSergeantWhitcomb.TheydroveinSergeantWhitcomb’sjeep.Thechaplainmadefistsofhishandstokeepthemfromshakingastheylayinhislap.HegroundhisteethtogetherandtriednottohearasSergeantWhitcombchirrupedexultantlyoverthetragicevent.TwelvemenkilledmeanttwelvemoreformlettersofcondolencethatcouldbemailedinonebunchtothenextofkinoverColonelCathcart’ssignature,givingSergeantWhitcombhopeofgettinganarticleonColonelCathcartintoTheSaturdayEveningPostintimeforEaster.

           Atthefieldaheavysilenceprevailed,overpoweringmotionlikearuthless,insensatespellholdinginthralltheonlybeingswhomightbreakit.Thechaplainwasinawe.Hehadneverbeheldsuchagreat,appallingstillnessbefore.Almosttwohundredtired,gaunt,downcastmenstoodholdingtheirparachutepacksinasomberandunstirringcrowdoutsidethebriefingroom,theirfacesstaringblanklyindifferentanglesofstunneddejection.Theyseemedunwillingtogo,unabletomove.Thechaplainwasacutelyconsciousofthefaintnoisehisfootstepsmadeasheapproached.Hiseyessearchedhurriedly,frantically,throughtheimmobilemazeoflimpfigures.

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