Clevinger's Trial - Catch-22

"In sixty days you'll be fighting Billy Petrolle," the colonel
with the big fat moustache roared. "And you think it's a big fat joke."

	"I don't think it's a joke, sir," Clevinger replied.

	"Don't interrupt."

	"Yes, sir."

	"And say 'sir' when you do," ordered Major Metcalf.

	"Yes, sir."

	"Weren't you just ordered not to interrupt?" Major Metcalf
inquired coldly.

	"But I didn't interrupt, sir," Clevinger protested.

	"No. And you didn't say 'sir', either. Add that to the charges
against him," Major Metcalf directed the corporal who could take
shorthand. "Failure to say 'sir' to superior officers when not
interrupting them."

	"Metcalf," said the colonel, "you're a goddam fool. Do you know
that?"

	Major Metcalf swallowed with difficulty. "Yes, sir."

	"Then keep your goddam mouth shut. You don't make sense."

	There were three members of the Action Board, the bloated colonel
with the big fat mustache, Lieutenant Scheisskopf and Major Metcalf, who
was trying to develop a steely gaze. As a member of the Action Board,
Lieutenant Scheisskopf was one of the judges who would weigh the merits of
the case against Clevinger as presented by the prosecutor. Lieutenant
Scheisskopf was also the prosecutor. Clevinger had an officer defending
him. The officer defending him was Lieutenant Scheisskopf.

	It was all very confusing to Clevinger, who began vibrating in
terror as the colonel surged to his feet like a gigantic belch and
threatened to rip his stinking, cowardly body apart limb from limb. One
day he had stumbled while marching to class ; the next day he was formally
charged with "breaking ranks while in formation, felonious assault,
indiscriminate behavior, mopery, high treason, provoking, being a smart
guy, listening to classical music and so on." In short, they threw the
book at him, and there he was, standing in dread before the bloated
colonel, who roared once more that in sixty days he would be fighting
Billy Petrolle and demanded to know how the hell he would like being
washed out and shipped to the Solomon Islands to bury bodies. Clevinger
replied with courtesy that he would not like it ; he was a dope who would
rather be a corpse than bury one. The colonel sat down and settled back,
calm and cagey suddenly, and ingratiatingly polite.

	"What did you mean," he inquired slowly, "when you said we
couldn't punish you?"

	"When, sir?"

	"I'm asking the questions. You're answering them."

	"Yes, sir. I - "

	"Did you think we brought you here to ask questions and for me to
answer them?"

	"No, sir. I - "

	"What did we bring you here for?"

	"To answer questions."

	"You're goddam right," roared the colonel. "Now suppose you start
answering some before I break your goddam head. Just what the hell did you
mean, you bastard, when you said we couldn't punish you?"

	"I don't think I ever made that statement, sir."

	"Will you speak up, please? I couldn't hear you."

	"Yes, sir. I - "

	"Will you speak up, please? He couldn't hear you."

	"Yes, sir. I - "

	"Metcalf."

	"Sir?"

	"Didn't I tell you to keep your stupid mouth shut?"

	"Yes, sir."

	"Then keep your stupid mouth shut when I tell you to keep your
stupid mouth shut. Do you understand? Will you speak up, please? I
couldn't hear you."

	"Yes, sir. I - "

	"Metcalf, is that your foot I'm stepping on?"

	"No, sir. It must be Lieutenant Scheisskopf's foot."

	"It isn't my foot," said Lieutenant Scheisskopf.

	"Then maybe it is my foot after all," said Major Metcalf.

	"Move it."

	"Yes, sir. You'll have to move your foot first, colonel. It's on
top of mine."

	"Are you telling me to move my foot?"

	"No, sir. Oh, no, sir."

	"Then move your foot and keep your stupid mouth shut. Will you
speak up, please? I still couldn't hear you."

	"Yes, sir. I said that I didn't say that you couldn't punish me."

	"Just what the hell are you talking about?"

	"I'm answering your question, sir."

	"What question?"

	" Just what the hell did you mean, you bastard, when you said we
couldn't punish you?' " said the corporal who could take shorthand,
reading from his steno pad.

	"All right," said the colonel. "Just what the hell did you mean?"

	"I didn't say you couldn't punish me, sir."

	"When?" asked the colonel.

	"When what, sir?"

	"Now you're asking me questions again."

	"I'm sorry, sir. I'm afraid I don't understand your question."

	"When didn't you say we couldn't punish you? Don't you understand
my question?"

	"No, sir. I don't understand."

	"You've just told us that. Now suppose you answer my question."

	"But how can I answer it?"

	"That's another question you're asking me."

	"I'm sorry, sir. But I don't know how to answer it. I never said
you couldn't punish me."

	"Now you're telling us when you did say it. I'm asking you to tell
us when you didn't say it."

	Clevinger took a deep breath. "I always didn't say you couldn't
punish me, sir."

	"That's much better, Mr. Clevinger, even though it is a barefaced
lie. Last night in the latrine. Didn't you whisper that we couldn't punish
you to that other dirty son of a bitch we don't like? What's his name?"

	"Yossarian, sir," Lieutenant Scheisskopf said.

	"Yes, Yossarian. That's right. Yossarian. Yossarian? Is that his
name? Yossarian? What the hell kind of a name is Yossarian?"

	Lieutenant Scheisskopf had the facts at his finger tips. "It's
Yossarian's name, sir," he explained.

	"Yes, I suppose it is. Didn't you whisper to Yossarian that we
couldn't punish you?"

	"Oh, no, sir. I whispered to him that you couldn't find me guilty
-"

	"I may be stupid," interrupted the colonel, "but the distinction
escapes me. I guess I am pretty stupid, because the distinction escapes
me."

	"W - "

	"You're a windy son of a bitch, aren't you? Nobody asked you for
clarification and you're giving me clarification. I was making a
statement, not asking for clarification. You are a windy son of a bitch,
aren't you?"

	"No, sir."

	"No, sir? Are you calling me a goddam liar?"

	"Oh, no, sir."

	"Then you're a windy son of a bitch, aren't you?"

	"No, sir."

	"Are you trying to pick a fight with me?"

	"No, sir."

	"Are you a windy son of a bitch?"

	"No, sir."

	"Goddammit, you are trying to pick a fight with me. For two
stinking cents I'd jump over this big fat table and rip your stinking,
cowardly body apart limb from limb."

	"Do it! Do it!" cried Major Metcalf.

	"Metcalf, you stinking son of a bitch. Didn't I tell you to keep
your stinking, cowardly, stupid mouth shut?"

	"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

	"Then suppose you do it."

	"I was only trying to learn, sir. The only way a person can learn
is by trying."

	"Who says so?"

	"Everybody says so, sir. Even Lieutenant Scheisskopf says so."

	"Do you say so?"

	"Yes, sir," said Lieutenant Scheisskopf. "But everybody says so."

	"Well, Metcalf, suppose you try keeping that stupid mouth of yours
shut, and maybe that's the way you'll learn how. Now, where were we? Read
me back the last line."

	" 'Read me back the last line,' " read back the corporal who could
take shorthand.

	"Not my last line, stupid!" the colonel shouted. "Somebody
else's."

	" 'Read me back the last line,' " read back the corporal.

	"That's my last line again!" shrieked the colonel, turning purple
with anger.

	"Oh, no, sir," corrected the corporal. "That's my last line. I
read it to you just a moment ago. Don't you remember, sir? It was only a
moment ago."

	"Oh, my God! Read me back his last line, stupid. Say, what the
hell's your name anyway?"

	"Popinjay, sir."

	"Well, you're next, Popinjay. As soon as his trial ends, your
trial begins. Get it?"

	"Yes, sir. What will I be charged with?"

	"What the hell difference does that make? Did you hear what he
asked me? You're going to learn, Popinjay - the minute we finish with
Clevinger you're going to learn. Cadet Clevinger, what did - You are Cadet
Clevinger, aren't you, and not Popinjay?"

	"Yes, sir."

	"Good. What did - "

	"I'm Popinjay, sir."

	"Popinjay, is your father a millionaire, or a member of the
Senate?"

	"No, sir."

	"Then you're up shit creek, Popinjay, without a paddle. He's not a
general or a high-ranking member of the Administration, is he?"

	"No, sir."

	"That's good. What does your father do?"

	"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!"

	"Yes, sir."

	"And say 'sir' when you don't," ordered Major Metcalf.