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'I hope you do get away with it,' Appleby whispered with conviction. 'I really do.'

'Thanks, Appleby.'

'I don't feel too happy about flying so many missions either now that it looks as though we've got the war won. I'll let you know if I hear anything else.'

'Thanks, Appleby.'

'Hey!' called a muted, peremptory voice from the leafless shrubs growing beside his tent in a waist-high clump after Appleby had gone. Havermeyer was hiding there in a squat. He was eating peanut brittle, and his pimples and large, oily pores looked like dark scales. 'How you doing?' he asked when Yossarian had walked to him.

'Pretty good.'

'Are you going to fly more missions?'

'No.'

'Suppose they try to make you?'

'I won't let them.'

'Are you yellow?'

'Yes.'

'Will they court-martial you?'

'They'll probably try.'

'What did Major Major say?'

'Major Major's gone.'

'Did they disappear him?'

'I don't know.'

'What will you do if they decide

to disappear you?'

'I'll try to stop them.'

'Didn't they offer you any deals or anything if you did fly?'

'Piltchard and Wren said they'd arrange things so I'd only go on milk runs.' Havermeyer perked up. 'Say, that sounds like a pretty good deal. I wouldn't mind a deal like that myself. I bet you snapped it up.'

'I turned it down.'

'That was dumb.' Havermeyer's stolid, dull face furrowed with consternation. 'Say, a deal like that wasn't so fair to the rest of us, was it? If you only flew on milk runs, then some of us would have to fly your share of the dangerous missions, wouldn't we?'

'That's right.'

'Say, I don't like that,' Havermeyer exclaimed, rising resentfully with his hands clenched on his hips. 'I don't like that a bit. That's a real royal screwing they're getting ready to give me just because you're too goddam yellow to fly any more missions, isn't it?'

'Take it up with them,' said Yossarian and moved his hand to his gun vigilantly.

'No, I'm not blaming you,' said Havermeyer, 'even though I don't like you. You know, I'm not too happy about flying so many missions any more either. Isn't there some way I can get out of it, too?' Yossarian snickered ironically and joked, 'Put a gun on and start marching with me.' Havermeyer shook his head thoughtfully. 'Nah, I couldn't do that. I might bring some disgrace on my wife and kid if I acted like a coward. Nobody likes a coward. Besides, I want to stay in the reserves when the war is over. You get five hundred dollars a year if you stay in the reserves.'

'Then fly more missions.'