I hope you don’t feel you’re better than the rest of us just because you’re a professional man.’
‘Oh, no, sir,’ the chaplain assured him with embarrassment.
‘As a matter of fact, I have been going to the officers’ club the past few evenings.’
‘You’re only a captain, you know,’ Colonel Cathcart continued, paying no attention to the chaplain’s remark.
‘You may be a professional man, but you’re still only a captain.’
‘Yes, sir.
I know.’
‘That’s fine, then.
It’s just as well you didn’t laugh before.
I wouldn’t have given you the plum tomatoes anyway. Corporal Whitcomb tells me you took a plum tomato when you were in here this morning.’
‘This morning?
But, sir!
You gave it to me.’
Colonel Cathcart cocked his head with suspicion.
‘I didn’t say I didn’t give it to you, did I?
I merely said you took it.
I don’t see why you’ve got such a guilty conscience if you really didn’t steal it.
Did I give it to you?’
‘Yes, sir.
I swear you did.’
‘Then I’ll just have to take your word for it.
Although I can’t imagine why I’d want to give you a plum tomato.’
Colonel Cathcart transferred a round glass paperweight competently from the right edge of his desk to the left edge and picked up a sharpened pencil.
‘Okay. Chaplain, I’ve got a lot of important work to do now if you’re through.
You let me know when Corporal Whitcomb has sent out about a dozen of those letters and we’ll get in touch with the editors of The Saturday Evening Post.’
A sudden inspiration made his face brighten.
‘Say!
I think I’ll volunteer the group for Avignon again.
That should speed things up!’
‘For Avignon?’
The chaplain’s heart missed a beat, and all his flesh began to prickle and creep.
‘That’s right,’ the colonel explained exuberantly.
‘The sooner we get some casualties, the sooner we can make some progress on this.
I’d like to get in the Christmas issue if we can.
I imagine the circulation is higher then.’
And to the chaplain’s horror, the colonel lifted the phone to volunteer the group for Avignon and tried to kick him out of the officers’ club again that very same night a moment before Yossarian rose up drunkenly, knocking over his chair, to start an avenging punch that made Nately call out his name and made Colonel Cathcart blanch and retreat prudently smack into General Dreedle, who shoved him off his bruised foot disgustedly and order him forward to kick the chaplain right back into the officers’ club.
It was all very upsetting to Colonel Cathcart, first the dreaded name Yossarian! tolling out again clearly like a warning of doom and then General Dreedle’s bruised foot, and that was another fault Colonel Cathcart found in the chaplain, the fact that it was impossible to predict how General Dreedle would react each time he saw him.
Colonel Cathcart would never forget the first evening General Dreedle took notice of the chaplain in the officers’ club, lifting his ruddy, sweltering, intoxicated face to stare ponderously through the yellow pall of cigarette smoke at the chaplain lurking near the wall by himself.
‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ General Dreedle had exclaimed hoarsely, his shaggy gray menacing eyebrows beetling in recognition. ‘Is that a chaplain I see over there?
That’s really a fine thing when a man of God begins hanging around a place like this with a bunch of dirty drunks and gamblers.’
Colonel Cathcart compressed his lips primly and started to rise.
‘I couldn’t agree with you more, sir,’ he assented briskly in a tone of ostentatious disapproval.
‘I just don’t know what’s happening to the clergy these days.’
‘They’re getting better, that’s what’s happening to them,’ General Dreedle growled emphatically.
Colonel Cathcart gulped awkwardly and made a nimble recovery.
‘Yes, sir.
They are getting better.
That’s exactly what I had in mind, sir.’
‘This is just the place for a chaplain to be, mingling with the men while they’re out drinking and gambling so he can get to understand them and win their confidence.
How the hell else is he ever going to get them to believe in God?’