Colonel Cargill came storming into General Peckem's office a minute later in a furor of timid resentment. "I've been here longer than Scheisskopf," he complained. "Why can't I be the one to call off the parades?"
"Because Scheisskopf has experience with parades, and you haven't. You can call off U.S.O. shows if you want to. In fact why don't you? Just think of all the places that won't be getting a U.S.O. show on any given day. Think of all the places each big-name entertainer won't be visiting. Yes, Cargill, I think you've hit on something. I think you've just thrown open a whole new area of operation for us. Tell Colonel Scheisskopf I want him to work along under your supervision on this. And send him in to see me when you're through giving him instructions."
"Colonel Cargill says you told him you want me to work along under his supervision on the U.S.O. project," Colonel Scheisskopf complained.
"I told him no such thing," answered General Peckem. "Confidentially, Scheisskopf, I'm not too happy with Colonel Cargill. He's bossy and he's slow. I'd like you to keep a close eye on what he's doing and see if you can't get a little more work out of him."
"He keeps butting in," Colonel Cargill protested. "He won't let me get any work done."
"There's something very funny about Scheisskopf," General Peckem agreed reflectively. "Keep a very close eye on him and see if you can't find out what he's up to."
"Now he's butting into my business!" Colonel Scheisskopf cried.
"Don't let it worry you, Scheisskopf," said General Peckem, congratulating himself on how adeptly he had fit Colonel Scheisskopf into his standard method of operation. Already his two colonels were barely on speaking terms. "Colonel Cargill envies you because of the splendid job you're doing on parades. He's afraid I'm going to put you in charge of bomb patterns."
Colonel Scheisskopf was all ears. "What are bomb patterns?"
"Bomb patterns?" General Peckem repeated, twinkling with self-satisfied good humor. "A bomb pattern is a term I dreamed up just several weeks ago. It means nothing, but you'd be surprised at how rapidly it's caught on. Why, I've got all sorts of people convinced I think it's important for the bombs to explode close together and make a neat aerial photograph. There's one colonel in Pianosa who's hardly concerned any more with whether he hits the target or not. Let's fly over and have some fun with him today. It will make Colonel Cargill jealous, and I learned from Wintergreen this morning that General Dreedle will be off in Sardinia. It drives General Dreedle insane to find out I've been inspecting one of his installations while he's been off inspecting another. We may even get there in time for the briefing. They'll be bombing a tiny undefended village, reducing the whole community to rubble. I have it from Wintergreen -- Wintergreen's an ex-sergeant now, by the way -- that the mission is entirely unnecessary. Its only purpose is to delay German reinforcements at a time when we aren't even planning an offensive. But that's the way things go when you elevate mediocre people to positions of authority." He gestured languidly toward his gigantic map of Italy. "Why, this tiny mountain village is so insignificant that it isn't even there."
They arrived at Colonel Cathcart's group too late to attend the preliminary briefing and hear Major Danby insist, "But it is there, I tell you. It's there, it's there."
"It's where?" Dunbar demanded defiantly, pretending not to see.
"It's right there on the map where this road makes this slight turn. Can't you see this slight turn on your map?"
"No, I can't see it."
"I can see it," volunteered Havermeyer, and marked the spot on Dunbar's map. "And here's a good picture of the village right on these photographs. I understand the whole thing. The purpose of the mission is to knock the whole village sliding down the side of the mountain and create a roadblock that the Germans will have to clear. Is that right?"
"That's right," said Major Danby, mopping his perspiring forehead with his handkerchief. "I'm glad somebody here is beginning to understand. These two armored divisions will be coming down from Austria into Italy along this road. The village is built on such a steep incline that all the rubble from the houses and other buildings you destroy will certainly tumble right down and pile upon the road."
"What the hell difference will it make?" Dunbar wanted to know, as Yossarian watched him excitedly with a mixture of awe and adulation. "It will only take them a couple of days to clear it."
Major Danby was trying to avoid an argument. "Well, it apparently makes some difference to Headquarters," he answered in a conciliatory tone. "I suppose that's why they ordered the mission."
"Have the people in the village been warned?" asked McWatt.
Major Danby was dismayed that McWatt too was registering opposition. "No, I don't think so."
"Haven't we dropped any leaflets telling them that this time we'll be flying over to hit them?" asked Yossarian. "Can't we even tip them off so they'll get out of the way?"
"No, I don't think so." Major Danby was swearing some more and still shifting his eyes about uneasily. "The Germans might find out and choose another road. I'm not sure about any of this. I'm just making assumptions."
"They won't even take shelter," Dunbar argued bitterly. "They'll pour out into the streets to wave when they see our planes coming, all the children and dogs and old people. Jesus Christ! Why can't we leave them alone?"
"Why can't we create the roadblock somewhere else?" asked McWatt. "Why must it be there?"
"I don't know," Major Danby answered unhappily. "I don't know. Look, fellows, we've got to have some confidence in the people above us who issue our orders. They know what they're doing."
"The hell they do," said Dunbar.
"What's the trouble?" inquired Colonel Korn, moving leisurely across the briefing room with his hands in his pockets and his tan shirt baggy.
"Oh, no trouble, Colonel," said Major Danby, trying nervously to cover up. "We're just discussing the mission."
"They don't want to bomb the village," Havermeyer snickered, giving Major Danby away.
"You prick!" Yossarian said to Havermeyer.
"You leave Havermeyer alone," Colonel Korn ordered Yossarian curtly. He recognized Yossarian as the drunk who had accosted him roughly at the officers' club one night before the first mission to Bologna, and he swung his displeasure prudently to Dunbar. "Why don't you want to bomb the village?"
"It's cruel, that's why."
"Cruel?" asked Colonel Korn with cold good humor, frightened only momentarily by the uninhibited vehemence of Dunbar's hostility. "Would it be any less cruel to let those two German divisions down to fight with our troops? American lives are at stake, too, you know. Would you rather see American blood spilled?"
"American blood is being spilled. But those people are living up there in peace. Why can't we leave them the hell alone?"
"Yes, it's easy for you to talk," Colonel Korn jeered. "You're safe here in Pianosa. It won't make any difference to you when these German reinforcements arrive, will it?"
Dunbar turned crimson with embarrassment and replied in a voice that was suddenly defensive. "Why can't we create the roadblock somewhere else? Couldn't we bomb the slope of a mountain or the road itself?"
"Would you rather go back to Bologna?" The question, asked quietly, rang out like a shot and created a silence in the room that was awkward and menacing. Yossarian prayed intensely, with shame, that Dunbar would keep his mouth shut. Dunbar dropped his gaze, and Colonel Korn knew he had won. "No, I thought not," he continued with undisguised scorn. "You know, Colonel Cathcart and I have to go to a lot of trouble to get you a milk run like this. If you'd sooner fly missions to Bologna, Spezia and Ferrara, we can get those targets with no trouble at all." His eyes gleamed dangerously behind his rimless glasses, and his muddy jowls were square and hard. "Just let me know."
"I would," responded Havermeyer eagerly with another boastful snicker. "I like to fly into Bologna straight and level with my head in the bombsight and listen to all that flak pumping away all around me. I get a big kick out of the way the men come charging over to me after the mission and call me dirty names. Even the enlisted men get sore enough to curse me and want to take socks at me."
Colonel Korn chucked Havermeyer under the chin jovially, ignoring him, and then addressed himself to Dunbar and Yossarian in a dry monotone. "You've got my sacred word for it. Nobody is more distressed about those lousy wops up in the hills than Colonel Cathcart and myself. Mais c"est la guerre. Try to remember that we didn't start the war and Italy did. That we weren't the aggressors and Italy was. And that we couldn't possibly inflict as much cruelty on the Italians, Germans, Russians and Chinese as they're already inflicting on themselves." Colonel Korn gave Major Danby's shoulder a friendly squeeze without changing his unfriendly expression. "Carry on with the briefing, Danby. And make sure they understand the importance of a tight bomb pattern."
"Oh, no, Colonel," Major Danby blurted out, blinking upward. "Not for this target. I've told them to space their bombs sixty feet apart so that we'll have a roadblock the full length of the village instead of in just one spot. It will be a much more effective roadblock with a loose bomb pattern."
"We don't care about the roadblock," Colonel Korn informed him. "Colonel Cathcart wants to come out of this mission with a good clean aerial photograph he won't be ashamed to send through channels. Don't forget that General Peckem will be here for the full briefing, and you know how he feels about bomb patterns. Incidentally, Major, you'd better hurry up with these details and clear out before he gets here. General Peckem can't stand you."
"Oh, no, Colonel," Major Danby corrected obligingly. "It's General Dreedle who can't stand me."
"General Peckem can't stand you either. In fact, no one can stand you. Finish what you're doing, Danby, and disappear. I'll conduct the briefing."
"Where's Major Danby?" Colonel Cathcart inquired, after he had driven up for the full briefing with General Peckem and Colonel Scheisskopf.
"He asked permission to leave as soon as he saw you driving up," answered Colonel Korn. "He's afraid General Peckem doesn't like him. I was going to conduct the briefing anyway. I do a much better job."
"Splendid!" said Colonel Cathcart. "No!" Colonel Cathcart countermanded himself an instant later when he remembered how good a job Colonel Korn had done before General Dreedle at the first Avignon briefing. "I'll do it myself."
Colonel Cathcart braced himself with the knowledge that he was one of General Peckem's favorites and took charge of the meeting, snapping his words out crisply to the attentive audience of subordinate officers with the bluff and dispassionate toughness he had picked up from General Dreedle. He knew he cut a fine figure there on the platform with his open shirt collar, his cigarette holder, and his close-cropped, gray-tipped curly black hair. He breezed along beautifully, even emulating certain characteristic mispronunciations of General Dreedle's, and he was not the least bit intimidated by General Peckem's new colonel until he suddenly recalled that General Peckem detested General Dreedle. Then his voice cracked, and all confidence left him. He stumbled ahead through instinct in burning humiliation. He was suddenly in terror of Colonel Scheisskopf. Another colonel in the area meant another rival, another enemy, another person who hated him. And this one was tough! A horrifying thought occurred to Colonel Cathcart: Suppose Colonel Scheisskopf had already bribed all the men in the room to begin moaning, as they had done at the first Avignon mission. How could he silence them? What a terrible black eye that would be! Colonel Cathcart was seized with such fright that he almost beckoned to Colonel Korn. Somehow he held himself together and synchronized the watches. When he had done that, he knew he had won, for he could end now at any time. He had come through in a crisis. He wanted to laugh in Colonel Scheisskopf's face with triumph and spite. He had proved himself brilliantly under pressure, and he concluded the briefing with an inspiring peroration that every instinct told him was a masterful exhibition of eloquent tact and subtlety.
"Now, men," he exhorted. "We have with us today a very distinguished guest, General Peckem from Special Services, the man who gives us all our softball bats, comic books and U.S.O. shows. I want to dedicate this mission to him. Go on out there and bomb -- for me, for your country, for God, and for that great American, General P. P. Peckem. And let's see you put all those bombs on a dime!"
30 DUNBAR
Yossarian no longer gave a damn where his bombs fell, although he did not go as far as Dunbar, who dropped his bombs hundreds of yards past the village and would face a court-martial if it could ever be shown he had done it deliberately. Without a word even to Yossarian, Dunbar had washed his hands of the mission. The fall in the hospital had either shown him the light or scrambled his brains; it was impossible to say which.
Dunbar seldom laughed any more and seemed to be wasting away. He snarled belligerently at superior officers, even at Major Danby, and was crude and surly and profane even in front of the chaplain, who was afraid of Dunbar now and seemed to be wasting away also. The chaplain's pilgrimage to Wintergreen had proved abortive; another shrine was empty. Wintergreen was too busy to see the chaplain himself. A brash assistant brought the chaplain a stolen Zippo cigarette lighter as a gift and informed him condescendingly that Wintergreen was too deeply involved with wartime activities to concern himself with matters so trivial as the number of missions men had to fly. The chaplain worried about Dunbar and brooded more over Yossarian now that Orr was gone. To the chaplain, who lived by himself in a spacious tent whose pointy top sealed him in gloomy solitude each night like the cap of a tomb, it seemed incredible that Yossarian really preferred living alone and wanted no roommates.
