“You must make decisions,” Major Danby disagreed. “A person can’t live like a vegetable.”

“Why not?”

A distant warm look entered Major Danby’s eyes. “It must be nice to live like a vegetable,” he conceded wistfully.

“It’s lousy,” answered Yossarian.

“No, it must be very pleasant to be free from all this doubt and pressure,” insisted Major Danby. “I think I’d like to live like a vegetable and make no important decisions.”

“What kind of vegetable, Danby?”

“A cucumber or a carrot.”

“What kind of cucumber? A good one or a bad one?”

“Oh, a good one, of course.”

“They’d cut you off in your prime and slice you up for a salad.”

Major Danby’s face fell. “A poor one, then.”

“They’d let you rot and use you for fertilizer to help the good ones grow.”

“I guess I don’t want to live like a vegetable, then,” said Major Danby with a smile of sad resignation.

“Danby, must I really let them send me home?” Yossarian inquired of him seriously.

Major Danby shrugged. “It’s a way to save yourself.”

“It’s a way to lose myself, Danby. You ought to know that.”

“You could have lots of things you want.”

“I don’t want lots of things I want,” Yossarian replied, and then beat his fist down against the mattress in an outburst of rage and frustration. “Goddammit, Danby! I’ve got friends who were killed in this war. I can’t make a deal now. Getting stabbed by that bitch was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Would you rather go to jail?”

“Would you let them send you home?”

“Of course I would!” Major Danby declared with conviction. “Certainly I would,” he added a few moments later, in a less positive manner. “Yes, I suppose I would let them send me home if I were in your place,” he decided uncomfortably, after lapsing into troubled contemplation. Then he threw his face sideways disgustedly in a gesture of violent distress and blurted out, “Oh, yes, of course I’d let them send me home! But I’m such a terrible coward I couldn’t really be in your place.”

“But suppose you weren’t a coward?” Yossarian demanded, studying him closely. “Suppose you did have the courage to defy somebody?”

“Then I wouldn’t let them send me home,” Major Danby vowed emphatically with vigorous joy and enthusiasm. “But I certainly wouldn’t let them court-martial me.”

“Would you fly more missions?”

“No, of course not. That would be total capitulation. And I might be killed.”

“Then you’d run away?”

Major Danby started to retort with proud spirit and came to an abrupt stop, his half-opened jaw swinging closed dumbly. He pursed his lips in a tired pout. “I guess there just wouldn’t be any hope for me, then, would there?”

His forehead and protuberant white eyeballs were soon glistening nervously again. He crossed his limp wrists in his lap and hardly seemed to be breathing as he sat with his gaze drooping toward the floor in acquiescent defeat. Dark, steep shadows slanted in from the window. Yossarian watched him solemnly, and neither of the two men stirred at the rattling noise of a speeding vehicle skidding to a stop outside and the sound of racing footsteps pounding toward the building in haste.

“Yes, there’s hope for you,” Yossarian remembered with a sluggish flow of inspiration. “Milo might help you. He’s bigger than Colonel Cathcart, and he owes me a few favors.”

Major Danby shook his head and answered tonelessly. “Milo and Colonel Cathcart are pals now. He made Colonel Cathcart a vice-president and promised him an important job after the war.”

“Then ex-P.F.C. Wintergreen will help us,” Yossarian exclaimed. “He hates them both, and this will infuriate him.”

Major Danby shook his head bleakly again. “Milo and ex-P.F.C. Wintergreen merged last week. They’re all partners now in M amp; M Enterprises.”

“Then there is no hope for us, is there?”

“No hope.”

“No hope at all, is there?”

“No, no hope at all,” Major Danby conceded. He looked up after a while with a half-formed notion. “Wouldn’t it be nice if they could disappear us the way they disappeared the others and relieve us of all these crushing burdens?”

Yossarian said no. Major Danby agreed with a melancholy nod, lowering his eyes again, and there was no hope at all for either of them until footsteps exploded in the corridor suddenly and the chaplain, shouting at the top of his voice, came bursting into the room with the electrifying news about Orr, so overcome with hilarious excitement that he was almost incoherent for a minute or two. Tears of great elation were sparkling in his eyes, and Yossarian leaped out of bed with an incredulous yelp when he finally understood.

“Sweden?” he cried.

“Orr!” cried the chaplain.

“Orr?” cried Yossarian.

“Sweden!” cried the chaplain, shaking his head up and down with gleeful rapture and prancing about uncontrollably from spot to spot in a grinning, delicious frenzy. “It’s a miracle, I tell you! A miracle! I believe in God again. I really do. Washed ashore in Sweden after so many weeks at sea! It’s a miracle.”

“Washed ashore, hell!” Yossarian declared, jumping all about also and roaring in laughing exultation at the walls, the ceiling, the chaplain and Major Danby. “He didn’t wash ashore in Sweden. He rowed there! He rowed there, Chaplain, he rowed there.”

“Rowed there?”

“He planned it that way! He went to Sweden deliberately.”

“Well, I don’t care!” the chaplain flung back with undiminished zeal. “It’s still a miracle, a miracle of human intelligence and human endurance. Look how much he accomplished!” The chaplain clutched his head with both hands and doubled over in laughter. “Can’t you just picture him?” he exclaimed with amazement. “Can’t you just picture him in that yellow raft, paddling through the Straits of Gibraltar at night with that tiny little blue oar-“

“With that fishing line trailing out behind him, eating raw codfish all the way to Sweden, and serving himself tea every afternoon-“

“I can just see him!” cried the chaplain, pausing a moment in his celebration to catch his breath. “It’s a miracle of human perseverance, I tell you. And that’s just what I’m going to do from now on! I’m going to persevere. Yes, I’m going to persevere.”

“He knew what he was doing every step of the way!” Yossarian rejoiced, holding both fists aloft triumphantly as though hoping to squeeze revelations from them. He spun to a stop facing Major Danby. “Danby, you dope! There is hope, after all. Can’t you see? Even Clevinger might be alive somewhere in that cloud of his, hiding inside until it’s safe to come out.”

“What are you talking about?” Major Danby asked in confusion. “What are you both talking about?”

“Bring me apples, Danby, and chestnuts too. Run, Danby, run. Bring me crab apples and horse chestnuts before it’s too late, and get some for yourself.”

“Horse chestnuts? Crab apples? What in the world for?”

“To pop into our cheeks, of course.” Yossarian threw his arms up into the air in a gesture of mighty and despairing selfrecrimination. “Oh, why didn’t I listen to him? Why wouldn’t I have some faith?”

“Have you gone crazy?” Major Danby demanded with alarm and bewilderment. “Yossarian, will you please tell me what you are talking about?”

“Danby, Orr planned it that way. Don’t you understand-he planned it that way from the beginning. He even practiced getting shot down. He rehearsed for it on every mission he flew. And I wouldn’t go with him! Oh, why wouldn’t I listen? He invited me along, and I wouldn’t go with him! Danby, bring me buck teeth too, and a valve to fix and a look of stupid innocence that nobody would ever suspect of any cleverness. I’ll need them all. Oh, why wouldn’t I listen to him. Now I understand what he was trying to tell me. I even understand why that girl was hitting him on the head with her shoe.”