Re: Pjese interesante nga librat qe keni lexuar
(Shkeputur nga "Catch-22" i Joseph Heller. Ngjarjet zhvillohen ne kohen e Luftes se Dyte Boterore, me pilotet e nje skuadrilje bombarduesish amerikane ne Itali. Nje nder librat me te arrire qe kam lexuar.)
Nateley's mother, a descendant of the New England Thorntons, was a Daugther of the American Revolution. His father was a Son of A B!tch .
But that was war. Just about all he could find in its favor was that it paid well and liberated children from the pernicious influence of their parents.
"When you talk to the man upstairs," he said, "I want you to tell Him something for me. Tell Him it ain't right for people to die when they're young. I mean it. Tell Him if they got to die at all, they got to die when their old. I want you to tell Him that. I don't think He knows it ain't right, because he's supposed to be good, and it's been going on for a long, long time. Okay?"
"Are we losing?"
"Losing?" Doc Danneka cried. "The whole military situation has been going to hell ever since we captured Paris. I knew it would happen. American troops are pushing into German soil. The Russians have captured back all of Romania. Only yesterday the Greeks in the Eighth Army captured Rimini. The Germans are on the defensive everywhere! There's no more Luftwaffe left!" he wailed. He seemed ready to burst into tears. "The whole Gothic line is in danger of collapsing!"
"So?" asked Yossarian. "What's wrong?"
"What's wrong?" Doc Daneeka cried. "If something doesn't happen soon, Germany may surrender. And then we'll all be sent to the Pacific!"
Yossarian gawked at Doc Daneeka in grotesque dismay. "Are you crazy? Do you know what you're saying?"
"Yeah, it's easy for you to laugh," Doc Daneeka sneered.
"Who the hell is laughing?"
"At least you've got a chance. You're in combat and might get killed. But what about me? I've got nothing to hope for."
"You're out of your goddamn head!" Yossarian shouted at him emphatically, seizing him by the shirt front. "Do you know that? Now keep your stupid mouth shut and listen to me."
Doc Daneeka wrenched himself away. "Don't you dare talk to me like that. I'm a licensed physician."
"Then keep your stupid licensed physician's mouth shut and listen to what they told me up at the hospital. I'm crazy. Did you know that?"
"I'm nuts. Cuckoo. Don't you understand? I'm off my rocker. They sent someone else home in my place by mistake. They've got a licensed physician up at the hospital who examined me, and that was his verdict. I'm really insane."
"So?" Yossarian was puzzled by Doc Danneka's inability to comprehend. "Don't you see what that means? Now you can take me off combat duty and send me home. They're no going to send a crazy man out to be killed, are they?"
"Who else will go?"
"What the devil do you mean, he won't fly any more missions? Why won't he?"
"His friend Nately was killed in the crash over Spezia. Maybe that's why."
"Who does he think he is - Archilles? He has to fly more missions. He has no choice. Go back and tell him you'll report the matter to us if he doesn't change his mind."
"We already did tell him that, sir. It made no difference."
"Oh, there are plenty of other ways we can handle this one," Colonel Korn assured him confidently... "Let's begin with the kindest. Send him to Rome for a rest for a few days. Maybe this fellow's death really did hurt him a bit."
Nately's death, in fact, almost killed Yossarian too, for when he broke the news to Nately's whore in Rome she uttered a piercing heartbroken shriek and tried to stab him to death with a potato peeler.
"You must try to look up at the big picture."
Yossarian rejected the advice with a skeptical shake of his head. "When I look up, I see people cashing in. I don't see heaven or saints or angels. I see people cashing in on every decent impulse and every human tragedy."