Page 25

'He's dead, sir.'

'That's very good. You really are up the creek, Popinjay. Is Popinjay really your name? Just what the hell kind of a name is Popinjay anyway? I don't like it.'

'It's Popinjay's name, sir,' Lieutenant Scheisskopf explained.

'Well, I don't like it, Popinjay, and I just can't wait to rip your stinking, cowardly body apart limb from limb. Cadet Clevinger, will you please repeat what the hell it was you did or didn't whisper to Yossarian late last night in the latrine?'

'Yes, sir. I said that you couldn't find me guilty--'

'We'll take it from there. Precisely what did you mean, Cadet Clevinger, when you said we couldn't find you guilty?'

'I didn't say you couldn't find me guilty, sir.'

'When?'

'When what, sir?'

'Goddammit, are you going to start pumping me again?'

'No, sir. I'm sorry, sir.'

'Then answer the question. When didn't you say we couldn't find you guilty?'

'Late last night in the latrine, sir.'

'Is that the only time you didn't say it?'

'No, sir. I always didn't say you couldn't find me guilty, sir. What I did say to Yossarian was--'

'Nobody asked you what you did say to Yossarian. We asked you what you didn't say to him. We're not at all interested in what you did say to Yossarian. Is that clear?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Then we'll go on. What did you say to Yossarian?'

'I said to him, sir, that you couldn't find me guilty of the offense with which I am charged and still be faithful to the cause of...'

'Of what? You're mumbling.'

'Stop mumbling.'

'Yes, sir.'

'And mumble "sir" when you do.'

'Metcalf, you bastard!'

'Yes, sir,' mumbled Clevinger. 'Of justice, sir. That you couldn't find--'

'Justice?' The colonel was astounded. 'What is justice?'

'Justice, sir--'

'That's not what justice is,' the colonel jeered, and began pounding the table again with his big fat hand. 'That's what Karl Marx is. I'll tell you what justice is. Justice is a knee in the gut from the floor on the chin at night sneaky with a knife brought up down on the magazine of a battleship sandbagged underhanded in the dark without a word of warning. Garroting. That's what justice is when we've all got to be tough enough and rough enough to fight Billy Petrolle. From the hip. Get it?'

'No, sir.'

'Don't sir me!'