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'Colonel Korn, I want to talk to you about the crash this morning. It was a terrible thing to happen, terrible!' Colonel Korn was silent a moment, regarding the chaplain with a glint of cynical amusement. 'Yes, Chaplain, it certainly was terrible,' he said finally. 'I don't know how we're going to write this one up without making ourselves look bad.'

'That isn't what I meant,' the chaplain scolded firmly without any fear at all. 'Some of those twelve men had already finished their seventy missions.' Colonel Korn laughed. 'Would it be any less terrible if they had all been new men?' he inquired caustically.

Once again the chaplain was stumped. Immoral logic seemed to be confounding him at every turn. He was less sure of himself than before when he continued, and his voice wavered. 'Sir, it just isn't right to make the men in this group fly eighty missions when the men in other groups are being sent home with fifty and fifty-five.'

'We'll take the matter under consideration,' Colonel Korn said with bored disinterest, and started away. 'Adios, Padre.'

'What does that mean, sir?' the chaplain persisted in a voice turning shrill.

Colonel Korn stopped with an unpleasant expression and took a step back down. 'It means we'll think about it, Padre,' he answered with sarcasm and contempt. 'You wouldn't want us to do anything without thinking about it, would you?'

'No, sir, I suppose not. But you have been thinking about it, haven't you?'

'Yes, Padre, we have been thinking about it. But to make you happy, we'll think about it some more, and you'll be the first person we'll tell if we reach a new decision. And now, adios.' Colonel Korn whirled away again and hurried up the stairs.

'Colonel Korn!' The chaplain's cry made Colonel Korn stop once more. His head swung slowly around toward the chaplain with a look of morose impatience. Words gushed from the chaplain in a nervous torrent. 'Sir, I would like your permission to take the matter to General Dreedle. I want to bring my protests to Wing Headquarters.' Colonel Korn's thick, dark jowls inflated unexpectedly with a suppressed guffaw, and it took him a moment to reply. 'That's all right, Padre,' he answered with mischievous merriment, trying hard to keep a straight face. 'You have my permission to speak to General Dreedle.'

'Thank you, sir. I believe it only fair to warn you that I think I have some influence with General Dreedle.'

'It's good of you to warn me, Padre. And I believe it only fair to warn you that you won't find General Dreedle at Wing.' Colonel Korn grinned wickedly and then broke into triumphant laughter. 'General Dreedle is out, Padre. And General Peckem is in. We have a new wing commander.' The chaplain was stunned. 'General Peckem!'

'That's right, Chaplain. Have you got any influence with him?'

'Why, I don't even know General Peckem,' the chaplain protested wretchedly.

Colonel Korn laughed again. 'That's too bad, Chaplain, because Colonel Cathcart knows him very well.' Colonel Korn chuckled steadily with gloating relish for another second or two and then stopped abruptly. 'And by the way, Padre,' he warned coldly, poking his finger once into the chaplain's chest. 'The jig is up between you and Dr. Stubbs. We know very well he sent you up here to complain today.'

'Dr. Stubbs?' The chaplain shook his head in baffled protest. 'I haven't seen Dr. Stubbs, Colonel. I was brought here by three strange officers who took me down into the cellar without authority and questioned and insulted me.' Colonel Korn poked the chaplain in the chest once more. 'You know damned well Dr. Stubbs has been telling the men in his squadron they didn't have to fly more than seventy missions.' He laughed harshly. 'Well, Padre, they do have to fly more than seventy missions, because we're transferring Dr. Stubbs to the Pacific. So adios, Padre. Adios.'

Catch-22

General Scheisskopf

Dreedle was out, and General Peckem was in, and General Peckem had hardly moved inside General Dreedle's office to replace him when his splendid military victory began falling to pieces around him.

'General Scheisskopf?' he inquired unsuspectingly of the sergeant in his new office who brought him word of the order that had come in that morning. 'You mean Colonel Scheisskopf, don't you?'

'No, sir, General Scheisskopf He was promoted to general this morning, sir.'

'Well, that's certainly curious! Scheisskopf? A general? What grade?'

'Lieutenant general, sir, and--'

'Lieutenant general!'

'Yes, sir, and he wants you to issue no orders to anyone in your command without first clearing them through him.'

'Well, I'll be damned,' mused General Peckem with astonishment, swearing aloud for perhaps the first time in his life. 'Cargill, did you hear that? Scheisskopf was promoted way up to lieutenant general. I'll bet that promotion was intended for me and they gave it to him by mistake.' Colonel Cargill had been rubbing his sturdy chin reflectively. 'Why is he giving orders to us?' General Peckem's sleek, scrubbed, distinguished face tightened. 'Yes, Sergeant,' he said slowly with an uncomprehending frown. 'Why is he issuing orders to us if he's still in Special Services and we're in combat operations?'

'That's another change that was made this morning, sir. All combat operations are now under the jurisdiction of Special Services. General Scheisskopf is our new commanding officer.' General Peckem let out a sharp cry. 'Oh, my God!' he wailed, and all his practical composure went up in hysteria. 'Scheisskopf in charge? Scheisskopf?' He pressed his fists down on his eyes with horror. 'Cargill, get me Wintergreen! Scheisskopf? Not Scheisskopf!' All phones began ringing at once. A corporal ran in and saluted.

'Sir, there's a chaplain outside to see you with news of an injustice in Colonel Cathcart's squadron.'

'Send him away, send him away! We've got enough injustices of our own. Where's Wintergreen?'

'Sir, General Scheisskopf is on the phone. He wants to speak to you at once.'

'Tell him I haven't arrived yet. Good Lord!' General Peckem screamed, as though struck by the enormity of the disaster for the first time. 'Scheisskopf? The man's a moron! I walked all over that blockhead, and now he's my superior officer. Oh, my Lord! Cargill! Cargill, don't desert me! Where's Wintergreen?'