Joseph Heller - Catch-22

Not even Clevinger understood how Milocould do that, and Clevinger knew everything. Clevinger knew everything aboutthe war except why Yossarian had to die while Corporal Snark was allowed tolive, or why Corporal Snark had to die while Yossarian was allowed to live. Itwas a vile and muddy war, and Yossarian could have lived without itlivedforever, perhaps. Only a fraction of his countrymen would give up their livesto win it, and it was not his ambition to be among them. To die or not to die,that was the question, and Clevinger grew limp trying to answer it. History didnot demand Yossarians premature demise, justice could be satisfied without it,progress did not hinge upon it, victory did not depend on it. That men woulddie was a matter of necessity; which men would die, though, was a matter ofcircumstance, and Yossarian was willing to be the victim of anything butcircumstance. But that was war. Just about all he could find in its favor wasthat it paid well and liberated children from the pernicious influence of theirparents.

Clevinger knew so much because Clevinger was a genius with apounding heart and blanching face. He was a gangling, gawky, feverish, famish-eyedbrain. As a Harvard undergraduate he had won prizes in scholarship for justabout everything, and the only reason he had not won prizes in scholarship foreverything else was that he was too busy signing petitions, circulatingpetitions and challenging petitions, joining discussion groups and resigningfrom discussion groups, attending youth congresses, picketing other youthcongresses and organizing student committees in defense of dismissed facultymembers. Everyone agreed that Clevinger was certain to go far in the academicworld. In short, Clevinger was one of those people with lots of intelligenceand no brains, and everyone knew it except those who soon found it out.

In short, he was a dope. He often looked to Yossarian likeone of those people hanging around modern museums with both eyes together onone side of a face. It was an illusion, of course, generated by Clevingerspredilection for staring fixedly at one side of a question and never seeing theother side at all. Politically, he was a humanitarian who did know right fromleft and was trapped uncomfortably between the two. He was constantly defendinghis Communist friends to his right-wing enemies and his right-wing friends tohis Communist enemies, and he was thoroughly detested by both groups, who neverdefended him to anyone because they thought he was a dope.

He was a very serious, very earnest and very conscientiousdope. It was impossible to go to a movie with him without getting involvedafterwards in a discussion on empathy, Aristotle, universals, messages and theobligations of the cinema as an art form in a materialistic society. Girls hetook to the theater had to wait until the first intermission to find out fromhim whether or not they were seeing a good or a bad play, and then found out atonce. He was a militant idealist who crusaded against racial bigotry by growingfaint in its presence. He knew everything about literature except how to enjoyit.

Yossarian tried to help him. Dont be a dope, he hadcounseled Clevinger when they were both at cadet school in Santa Ana,California.

Im going to tell him, Clevinger insisted, as the two ofthem sat high in the reviewing stands looking down on the auxiliaryparadeground at Lieutenant Scheisskopf raging back and forth like a beardlessLear.

Why me? Lieutenant Scheisskopf wailed.

Keep still, idiot, Yossarian advised Clevinger avuncularly.

You dont know what youre talking about, Clevingerobjected.

I know enough to keep still, idiot. Lieutenant Scheisskopftore his hair and gnashed his teeth. His rubbery cheeks shook with gusts ofanguish. His problem was a squadron of aviation cadets with low morale whomarched atrociously in the parade competition that took place every Sundayafternoon. Their morale was low because they did not want to march in paradesevery Sunday afternoon and because Lieutenant Scheisskopf had appointed cadetofficers from their ranks instead of permitting them to elect their own.

I want someone to tell me, Lieutenant Scheisskopf beseechedthem all prayerfully. If any of it is my fault, I want to be told.

He wants someone to tell him, Clevinger said.

He wants everyone to keep still, idiot, Yossarian answered.

Didnt you hear him? Clevinger argued.

I heard him, Yossarian replied. I heard him say veryloudly and very distinctly that he wants every one of us to keep our mouthsshut if we know whats good for us.

I wont punish you, Lieutenant Scheisskopf swore.

He says he wont punish me, said Clevinger.

Hell castrate you, said Yossarian.

I swear I wont punish you, said Lieutenant Scheisskopf.Ill be grateful to the man who tells me the truth.

Hell hate you, said Yossarian. To his dying day hellhate you. Lieutenant Scheisskopf was an R.O.T.C. graduate who was rather gladthat war had broken out, since it gave him an opportunity to wear an officersuniform every day and say Men in a clipped, military voice to the bunches ofkids who fell into his clutches every eight weeks on their way to the butchersblock. He was an ambitious and humorless Lieutenant Scheisskopf, who confrontedhis responsibilities soberly and smiled only when some rival officer at theSanta Ana Army Air Force Base came down with a lingering disease. He had pooreyesight and chronic sinus trouble, which made war especially exciting for him,since he was in no danger of going overseas. The best thing about him was hiswife and the best thing about his wife was a girl friend named Dori Duz who didwhenever she could and had a Wac uniform that Lieutenant Scheisskopfs wife puton every weekend and took off every weekend for every cadet in her husbandssquadron who wanted to creep into her.

Dori Duz was a lively little tart of copper-green and goldwho loved doing it best in toolsheds, phone booths, field houses and buskiosks. There was little she hadnt tried and less she wouldnt. She wasshameless, slim, nineteen and aggressive. She destroyed egos by the score andmade men hate themselves in the morning for the way she found them, used themand tossed them aside. Yossarian loved her. She was a marvelous piece of asswho found him only fair. He loved the feel of springy muscle beneath her skineverywhere he touched her the only time shed let him. Yossarian loved Dori Duzso much that he couldnt help flinging himself down passionately on top ofLieutenant Scheisskopfs wife every week to revenge himself upon LieutenantScheisskopf for the way Lieutenant Scheisskopf was revenging himself uponClevinger.

Lieutenant Scheisskopfs wife was revenging herself uponLieutenant Scheisskopf for some unforgettable crime of his she couldnt recall.She was a plump, pink, sluggish girl who read good books and kept urgingYossarian not to be so bourgeois without the r. She was never without a goodbook close by, not even when she was lying in bed with nothing on her butYossarian and Dori Duzs dog tags. She bored Yossarian, but he was in love withher, too. She was a crazy mathematics major from the Wharton School of Businesswho could not count to twenty-eight each month without getting into trouble.

Darling, were going to have a baby again, she would say toYossarian every month.

Youre out of your goddam head, he would reply.

I mean it, baby, she insisted.

So do I.

Darling, were going to have a baby again, she would say toher husband.

I havent the time, Lieutenant Scheisskopf would grumblepetulantly. Dont you know theres a parade going on? Lieutenant Scheisskopfcared very deeply about winning parades and about bringing Clevinger up oncharges before the Action Board for conspiring to advocate the overthrow of thecadet officers Lieutenant Scheisskopf had appointed. Clevinger was atroublemaker and a wise guy. Lieutenant Scheisskopf knew that Clevinger mightcause even more trouble if he wasnt watched. Yesterday it was the cadetofficers; tomorrow it might be the world. Clevinger had a mind, and LieutenantScheisskopf had noticed that people with minds tended to get pretty smart attimes. Such men were dangerous, and even the new cadet officers whom Clevingerhad helped into office were eager to give damning testimony against him. Thecase against Clevinger was open and shut. The only thing missing was somethingto charge him with.