I don't own Catch-22.

When Colonel Cathcart heard that Orr had disappeared, he decided that the men of his squadron needed a distraction to boost morale.

"It would be a real feather in my cap," he explained to Colonel Korn in his office, "to show how much I care about the enlisted men under my command."

But no sooner had he uttered these words when he was struck by the thought that perhaps General Dreedle and General Peckem shared the same contempt for enlisted men as him, in which case they wouldn't appreciate the gesture he was making, in which case it would not be a feather in his cap at all but rather a black eye. Distraught at this sudden turn of events, Colonel Cathcart was ready to scrap the plan altogether.

But Colonel Korn seemed to have other thoughts. "Seems fine to me," he shrugged offhandedly.

Colonel Cathcart glowed with pride. This was the first time one of his ideas had ever received support from Colonel Korn, and this one was a doozie, sure to be a real feather in his cap - perhaps the biggest feather in his cap to date. Not to mention the fact that he had also managed to show Colonel Korn that he was not reliant on him for his ideas or his support. Colonel Cathcart was extremely pleased, and he grabbed a plum tomato from one of the boxes on the shelves and took a bite out of it before remembering that he did not particularly like plum tomatoes. He discarded the rest of the tomato into a wastebasket that, he noted, was nearly full to the brim of plum tomatoes, all with one bite taken out of them.

Colonel Cathcart turned to address Colonel Korn as a thought occurred to him. "Say," he said eagerly, "do you think this might land me in the Saturday Evening Post?"

Colonel Korn snorted as he turned to leave the office. "One can always hope."


Yossarian watched as McWatt cheerfully strode around the tent, setting up sleeping bags and unpacking supplies with a careless enthusiasm that made him want to wrap his fingers around McWatt's neck and squeeze until he came to his senses and started acting like he was in the middle of a fucking war. He missed Orr, who he would surely have shared a tent with despite the fact that Orr was a bastard with horse chestnuts and crab apples in his cheeks who would have annoyed Yossarian to no end needling him about the girl back in Rome who had been hitting Orr over the head with his shoe. McWatt was as bad a tentmate as he was good a pilot. Yossarian would have preferred Nately, who would nag him to death about inconsequential things, or Hungry Joe, whose screams would keep him up at night, or the chaplain, who would feel even guiltier at his failure to ground Yossarian, or Doc Daneeka, who would moan and gripe incessantly, or even Dobbs, who would try to involve Yossarian in another plot to murder Colonel Cathcart. But the tent arrangements had been decided by Captain Piltchard and Captain Wren back at the squadron meeting.

"Colonel Cathcart has decided that a squadron-wide morale boost might be necessary," Captain Piltchard had announced nervously to the group.

"Did he reduce the number of missions?" Yossarian asked, and Hungry Joe's face fell at the mere possibility.

Captain Wren shook his head, and Hungry Joe relaxed. "A two-day camping excursion," he announced to deafening silence.

Seeing that the men did not seem to be sold on the idea, Captain Piltchard took immediate action. "Sleeping bags," he wheedled. "A night in the wilderness. Marshmallows and campfires!"

"Marshmallows and campfires," McWatt later remarked, cheeks bulging with marshmallows, as they sat around the campfire. "I've always liked marshmallows and campfires."

"Really?" Milo asked, perking up from his seat next to Yossarian. "Would you say there's a market for marshmallows and campfires?"

Hungry Joe looked thoughtful. "I'm sure there's a market for marshmallows," he said seriously. "But I don't reckon you could find many places that sell campfires."

"Who gives a shit?" interjected Yossarian, and all the men fell silent for a minute as they pondered this question.

All except Aarfy on Yossarian's other side, who laughed stupidly and punched Yossarian in the shoulder. "Speak up," he requested jovially. "Ol' Aarfy can't hear you."

"Never mind," Yossarian muttered.

Aarfy cupped a hand to his ear. "What's that? I can't hear you."

Yossarian jumped to his feet just as Nately did as well to restrain him. "I'll kill you," he hissed, lunging fruitlessly at Aarfy as Nately held him back. "See if I won't, you stupid bastard."

"Yossarian," Nately pleaded. "Help me hold him, chaplain."

The chaplain, who had been wondering how to apologize to Sergeant Whitcomb for being assigned to the same tent as him, was alarmed at being addressed by someone and was too slow to stop Yossarian from breaking free of Nately's embrace and tackling Aarfy to the ground. Hungry Joe, roaring with delighted laughter, wasted no time in joining the fray, his great big fists falling indiscriminately on both Yossarian and Aarfy. Yossarian, suddenly fearing for his life, managed to slip out unnoticed from the whirlwind of limbs and bolted for the forest, where he smashed into a man who had been loitering by the edge of the treeline.

"Who are you?" Yossarian asked, spitting dirt from his mouth.

"Who are you?" the man shrieked fearfully, leaping to his feet.

"I'm Giuseppe," Yossarian answered truthfully.

"Like hell you're Giuseppe," the man responded immediately. "You're Yossarian. Tell me, Yossarian, has Chief White Halfoat died yet?"

Yossarian inspected the man more closely and saw, to his astonishment, that it was none other than Captain Flume, dressed in rags and coated in mud, leaves, and sticks.

"Where have you been living?" he asked in bewilderment.

"Not you, too!" Captain Flume shrieked, and before Yossarian could blink he had taken off deeper into the woods.

For a moment, Yossarian considered following Captain Flume. The woods might not be friendly, but certainly they were more so than all the people who wanted to kill him back at the base. He stood for a moment, wracked with indecision.

Then he turned and made his way back to the campfire, where Hungry Joe had managed to start an all-out brawl.

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