in a way it was all yossarian’s fault, for if he had not moved the bomb line during the big siege of bologna,major ---de coverley might still be around to save him, and if he had not stocked the enlisted men’s apartmentwith girls who had no other place to live, nately might never have fallen in love with his whore as she sat nakedfrom the waist down in the room full of grumpy blackjack players who ignored her. nately stared at her covertlyfrom his over-stuffed yellow armchair, marveling at the bored, phlegmatic strength with which she accepted themass rejection. she yawned, and he was deeply moved. he had never witnessed such heroic poise before.
the girl had climbed five steep flights of stairs to sell herself to the group of satiated enlisted men, who had girlsliving there all around them; none wanted her at any price, not even after she had stripped without realenthusiasm to tempt them with a tall body that was firm and full and truly voluptuous. she seemed more fatiguedthan disappointed. now she sat resting in vacuous indolence, watching the card game with dull curiosity as shegathered her recalcitrant energies for the tedious chore of donning the rest of her clothing and going back towork. in a little while she stirred. a little while later she rose with an unconscious sigh and stepped lethargicallyinto her tight cotton panties and dark skirt, then buckled on her shoes and left. nately slipped out behind her; andwhen yossarian and aarfy entered the officers’ apartment almost two hours later, there she was again, steppinginto her panties and skirt, and it was almost like the chaplain’s recurring sensation of having been through asituation before, except for nately, who was moping inconsolably with his hands in his pockets.
“she wants to go now,” he said in a faint, strange voice. “she doesn’t want to stay.”
“why don’t you just pay her some money to let you spend the rest of the day with her?” yossarian advised.
“she gave me my money back,” nately admitted. “she’s tired of me now and wants to go looking for someoneelse.”
the girl paused when her shoes were on to glance in surly invitation at yossarian and aarfy. her breasts werepointy and large in the thin white sleeveless sweater she wore that squeezed each contour and flowed outwardsmoothly with the tops of her enticing hips. yossarian returned her gaze and was strongly attracted. he shook hishead.
“good riddance to bad rubbish,” was aarfy’s unperturbed response.
“don’t say that about her!” nately protested with passion that was both a plea and a rebuke. “i want her to staywith me.”
“what’s so special about her?” aarfy sneered with mock surprise. “she’s only a whore.”
“and don’t call her a whore!”
the girl shrugged impassively after a few more seconds and ambled toward the door. nately bounded forwardwretchedly to hold it open. he wandered back in a heartbroken daze, his sensitive face eloquent with grief.
“don’t worry about it,” yossarian counseled him as kindly as he could. “you’ll probably be able to find heragain. we know where all the whores hang out.”
“please don’t call her that,” nately begged, looking as though he might cry.
“i’m sorry,” murmured yossarian.
aarfy thundered jovially, “there are hundreds of whores just as good crawling all over the streets. that onewasn’t even pretty.” he chuckled mellifluously with resonant disdain and authority. “why, you rushed forwardto open that door as though you were in love with her.”
“i think i am in love with her,” nately confessed in a shamed, far-off voice.
aarfy wrinkled his chubby round rosy forehead in comic disbelief. “ho, ho, ho, ho!” he laughed, patting theexpansive forest-green sides of his officer’s tunic prosperously. “that’s rich. you in love with her? that’s reallyrich.” aarfy had a date that same afternoon with a red cross girl from smith whose father owned an importantmilk-of-magnesia plant. “now, that’s the kind of girl you ought to be associating with, and not with commonsluts like that one. why, she didn’t even look clean.”
“i don’t care!” nately shouted desperately. “and i wish you’d shut up, i don’t even want to talk about it withyou.”
“aarfy, shut up,” said yossarian.
“ho, ho, ho, ho!” aarfy continued. “i just can’t imagine what your father and mother would say if they knew youwere running around with filthy trollops like that one. your father is a very distinguished man, you know.”
“i’m not going to tell him,” nately declared with determination. “i’m not going to say a word about her to him ormother until after we’re married.”
“married?” aarfy’s indulgent merriment swelled tremendously. “ho, ho, ho, ho, ho! now you’re really talkingstupid. why, you’re not even old enough to know what true love is.”
aarfy was an authority on the subject of true love because he had already fallen truly in love with nately’s fatherand with the prospect of working for him after the war in some executive capacity as a reward for befriendingnately. aarfy was a lead navigator who had never been able to find himself since leaving college. he was agenial, magnanimous lead navigator who could always forgive the other man in the squadron for denouncing himfuriously each time he got lost on a combat mission and led them over concentrations of antiaircraft fire. he gotlost on the streets of rome that same afternoon and never did find the eligible red cross girl from smith withthe important milk-of-magnesia plant. he got lost on the mission to ferrara the day kraft was shot down andkilled, and he got lost again on the weekly milk run to parma and tried to lead the planes out to sea over the cityof leghorn after yossarian had dropped his bombs on the undefended inland target and settled back against histhick wall of armor plate with his eyes closed and a fragrant cigarette in his fingertips. suddenly there was flak,and all at once mcwatt was shrieking over the intercom, “flak! flak! where the hell are we? what the hell’sgoing on?”
yossarian flipped his eyes open in alarm and saw the totally unexpected bulging black puffs of flak crashingdown in toward them from high up and aarfy’s complacent melon-round tiny-eyed face gazing out at theapproaching cannon bursts with affable bemusement. yossarian was flabbergasted. his leg went abruptly tosleep. mcwatt had started to climb and was yelping over the intercom for instructions. yossarian sprang forwardto see where they were and remained in the same place. he was unable to move. then he realized he wassopping wet. he looked down at his crotch with a sinking, sick sensation. a wild crimson blot was crawlingupward rapidly along his shirt front like an enormous sea monster rising to devour him. he was hit! separatetrickles of blood spilled to a puddle on the floor through one saturated trouser leg like countless unstoppableswarms of wriggling red worms. his heart stopped. a second solid jolt struck the plane. yossarian shudderedwith revulsion at the queer sight of his wound and screamed at aarfy for help.
“i lost my balls! aarfy, i lost my balls!” aarfy didn’t hear, and yossarian bent forward and tugged at his arm.
“aarfy, help me,” he pleaded, almost weeping, “i’m hit! i’m hit!”
aarfy turned slowly with a bland, quizzical grin. “what?”
“i’m hit, aarfy! help me!”
aarfy grinned again and shrugged amiably. “i can’t hear you,” he said.
“can’t you see me?” yossarian cried incredulously, and he pointed to the deepening pool of blood he feltsplashing down all around him and spreading out underneath. “i’m wounded! help me, for god’s sake! aarfy,help me!”
“i still can’t hear you,” aarfy complained tolerantly, cupping his podgy hand behind the blanched corolla of hisear. “what did you say?”
yossarian answered in a collapsing voice, weary suddenly of shouting so much, of the whole frustrating,exasperating, ridiculous situation. he was dying, and no one took notice. “never mind.”
“what?” aarfy shouted.
“i said i lost my balls! can’t you hear me? i’m wounded in the groin!”
“i still can’t hear you,” aarfy chided.
“i said never mind!” yossarian screamed with a trapped feeling of terror and began to shiver, feeling very coldsuddenly and very weak.
aarfy shook his head regretfully again and lowered his obscene, lactescent ear almost directly into yossarian’sface. “you’ll just have to speak up, my friend. you’ll just have to speak up.”
“leave me alone, you bastard! you dumb, insensitive bastard, leave me alone!” yossarian sobbed. he wanted topummel aarfy, but lacked the strength to lift his arms. he decided to sleep instead and keeled over sideways intoa dead faint.
he was wounded in the thigh, and when he recovered consciousness he found mcwatt on both knees taking careof him. he was relieved, even though he still saw aarfy’s bloated cherub’s face hanging down over mcwatt’sshoulder with placid interest. yossarian smiled feebly at mcwatt, feeling ill, and asked, “who’s minding thestore?” mcwatt gave no sign that he heard. with growing horror, yossarian gathered in breath and repeated thewords as loudly as he could.
mcwatt looked up. “christ, i’m glad you’re still alive!” he exclaimed, heaving an enormous sigh. the good-humored, friendly crinkles about his eyes were white with tension and oily with grime as he kept unrolling aninterminable bandage around the bulky cotton compress yossarian felt strapped burdensomely to the inside ofone thigh. “nately’s at the controls. the poor kid almost started bawling when he heard you were hit. he stillthinks you’re dead. they knocked open an artery for you, but i think i’ve got it stopped. i gave you somemorphine.”
“give me some more.”
“it might be too soon. i’ll give you some more when it starts to hurt.”
“it hurts now.”
“oh, well, what the hell,” said mcwatt and injected another syrette of morphine into yossarian’s arm.
“when you tell nately i’m all right...” said yossarian to mcwatt, and lost consciousness again as everythingwent fuzzy behind a film of strawberry-strained gelatin and a great baritone buzz swallowed him in sound. hecame to in the ambulance and smiled encouragement at doc daneeka’s weevil-like, glum and overshadowedcountenance for the dizzy second or two he had before everything went rose-petal pink again and then turnedreally black and unfathomably still.
yossarian woke up in the hospital and went to sleep. when he woke up in the hospital again, the smell of etherwas gone and dunbar was lying in pajamas in the bed across the aisle maintaining that he was not dunbar but afortiori. yossarian thought he was cracked. he curled his lip skeptically at dunbar’s bit of news and slept on itfitfully for a day or two, then woke up while the nurses were elsewhere and eased himself out of bed to see forhimself. the floor swayed like the floating raft at the beach and the stitches on the inside of his thigh bit into hisflesh like fine sets of fish teeth as he limped across the aisle to peruse the name on the temperature card on thefoot of dunbar’s bed, but sure enough, dunbar was right: he was not dunbar any more but second lieutenantanthony f. fortiori.
“what the hell’s going on?”
a. fortiori got out of bed and motioned to yossarian to follow. grasping for support at anything he could reach,yossarian limped along after him into the corridor and down the adjacent ward to a bed containing a harriedyoung man with pimples and a receding chin. the harried young man rose on one elbow with alacrity as theyapproached. a. fortiori jerked his thumb over his shoulder and said, “screw.” the harried young man jumpedout of bed and ran away. a. fortiori climbed into the bed and became dunbar again.
“that was a. fortiori,” dunbar explained. “they didn’t have an empty bed in your ward, so i pulled my rankand chased him back here into mine. it’s a pretty satisfying experience pulling rank. you ought to try itsometime. you ought to try it right now, in fact, because you look like you’re going to fall down.”
yossarian felt like he was going to fall down. he turned to the lantern jawed, leather-faced middle-aged manlying in the bed next to dunbar’s, jerked his thumb over his shoulder and said “screw.” the middle-aged manstiffened fiercely and glared.
“he’s a major,” dunbar explained. “why don’t you aim a little lower and try becoming warrant officer homerlumley for a while? then you can have a father in the state legislature and a sister who’s engaged to a championskier. just tell him you’re a captain.”
yossarian turned to the startled patient dunbar had indicated. “i’m a captain,” he said, jerking his thumb over hisshoulder. “screw.”
the startled patient jumped down to the floor at yossarian’s command and ran away. yossarian climbed up intohis bed and became warrant officer homer lumley, who felt like vomiting and was covered suddenly with aclammy sweat. he slept for an hour and wanted to be yossarian again. it did not mean so much to have a fatherin the state legislature and a sister who was engaged to a champion skier. dunbar led the way back toyossarian’s ward, where he thumbed a. fortiori out of bed to become dunbar again for a while. there was nosign of warrant officer homer lumley. nurse cramer was there, though, and sizzled with sanctimonious angerlike a damp firecracker. she ordered yossarian to get right back into his bed and blocked his path so he couldn’tcomply. her pretty face was more repulsive than ever. nurse cramer was a good-hearted, sentimental creaturewho rejoiced unselfishly at news of weddings, engagements, births and anniversaries even though she wasunacquainted with any of the people involved.
“are you crazy?” she scolded virtuously, shaking an indignant finger in front of his eyes. “i suppose you justdon’t care if you kill yourself, do you?”
“it’s my self,” he reminded her.
“i suppose you just don’t care if you lose your leg, do you?”
“it’s my leg.”
“it certainly is not your leg!” nurse cramer retorted. “that leg belongs to the u. s. government. it’s no differentthan a gear or a bedpan. the army has invested a lot of money to make you an airplane pilot, and you’ve noright to disobey the doctor’s orders.”
yossarian was not sure he liked being invested in. nurse cramer was still standing directly in front of him so thathe could not pass. his head was aching. nurse cramer shouted at him some question he could not understand.
he jerked his thumb over his shoulder and said, “screw.”
nurse cramer cracked him in the face so hard she almost knocked him down. yossarian drew back his fist topunch her in the jaw just as his leg buckled and he began to fall. nurse duckett strode up in time to catch him.
she addressed them both firmly.
“just what’s going on here?”
“he won’t get back into his bed,” nurse cramer reported zealously in an injured tone. “sue ann, he saidsomething absolutely horrible to me. oh, i can’t even make myself repeat it!”
“she called me a gear,” yossarian muttered.
nurse duckett was not sympathetic. “will you get back into bed,” she said, “or must i take you by your ear andput you there?”
“take me by my ear and put me there,” yossarian dared her.
nurse duckett took him by his ear and put him back in bed.
26、阿费
从某种意义上来说，这全都是约塞连的过错。在对博洛尼亚实行大围攻的时候，要是他没有去动那条标在图上的轰炸路线，那么——德·科弗利少校或许还能活着救他；要是他没有将那些没其他地方好住的姑娘塞进军人公寓，那么内特利就永远也不会有可能爱上他的那个妓女。当时这个妓女自腰部以下一丝不挂地坐在房里——挤满了正在玩二十一点的脾气暴躁的赌徒，可就是没人理会她，内特利坐在一张垫得又软又厚的黄色扶手椅上，偷偷地盯着她看。她一脸厌烦的样子，可身上又流露出一种对一切都毫不在乎的力量，就是凭借着这服力量，她泰然接受了这伙人对她的公然摒弃。对此，内特利在心里感到十分惊异。她张嘴打了个呵欠，这一举动深深感动了内特利。他以前还从未目睹过像这样异乎寻常的沉着。
这姑娘爬了整整五段陡峭的楼梯，来到这群大兵中间出卖自己的肉体。可这些大兵因四周住满了女人，所以早就对玩女人一事感到腻烦了。不管她要什么价，都没人想要她，后来，她不带多少热情地将自己脱了个精光，以自己那结实、丰满、十分肉感的颀长身体来引诱他们。可即便这样，也还是没有一个人要她。，对此，她似乎不是感到失望，而是觉得疲惫。此时，她带着一脸茫然、迟钝的倦态坐在那里休息，以一种无精打采的好奇看着别人玩牌。她这是在集聚已不受其支配的精力，以应付接下来要做的乏味枯燥的琐事：将其余的衣服一一穿好，然后再去干活。过了一会儿她开始动弹起来。又过了一会儿，她无意识地叹了口气，然后站了起来，懒洋洋地将双脚套进那条紧身棉布裤衩和黑裙子里，然后扣上鞋子，起身走了。内特利跟在她的后面悄悄溜了出去。差不多两小时后，当约塞连和阿费跨进军官公寓时，她也在那里，又一次在往脚上套裤衩和裙子。这情景真有点像随军牧师近来常有的那种似曾经历过类似场面的感觉。这场面里的唯一例外就是内特利，他两手插在衣兜里，一副闷闷不乐的沮丧样子。
“她现在就要走，”他用一种微弱而又奇怪的声音说，“她不肯留下来。”
“你干吗不付她点钱，这样你就可以同她一起度过今天的其他时间了，”约塞连向他建议道。
“她把钱还给我了，”内特利承认说，“她现在对我感到厌倦，想去另找一个人。”
姑娘穿好鞋后又停了下来，目光在约塞连和阿费身上扫来扫去，她这是在不怀好意地挑逗他们。她的两只乳房在衣衫下显得又尖又大。她身上穿的是一件薄薄的白色无袖毛线衫，将其身上所有的线条都勾勒了出来。尤其是臀部，线条流畅地向外突起，很是迷人。约塞连也盯着她看，深深地被吸引住了。他摇了摇头。
“早滚早好，”阿费说，他一点也不为她所动。
“不要这样说她！”内特利感情冲动地说，他的话半是请求，半是责备。“我想要她同我呆在一起。”
“她有什么不同寻常的地方？”阿费假装吃惊地嗤笑道，“她只不过是个妓女而已。”
“别叫她妓女。”
姑娘又等了几秒钟，然后面无表情地耸了耸肩，便从容不迫地朝门口走去。内特利连忙可怜巴巴地跳上前去将门拉开。他走回来时一副伤心欲绝的样子，目光呆滞，敏感的脸上满是痛苦悲伤的表情。
“别担心，”约塞连以尽可能友善的口气劝他说，“你有可能还会碰见她。所有妓女爱呆的地方我们都知道。”
“求求你别这么称呼她，”内特利恳求道，那样子看上去像是要哭出来似的。
“对不起，”约塞连咕哝道。
阿费乐不可支地高声大笑起来。“像她这样的妓女有好几百呢，街上到处都是。而这一位也谈不上有多漂亮。”他先是声音甜甜地窃笑了几声，然后又声音洪亮地用轻蔑而又充满权威的语气说，“哼，你竟跑上前去为她开门，好像你已经爱上了她似的。”
“我想我是爱上她了，”内特利满脸羞愧，用几乎听不见的声音坦白道。
阿费皱起他那光洁丰满并且红润的前额，扮了一个表示不相信的滑稽鬼脸。“哈，哈，哈，哈！”他大笑了起来，一边不住地拍打着身上穿的草绿色军官束腰短外衣的宽大下摆的两侧。“这真是荒唐。你真的爱上她了？这真是太荒唐了。”阿费当天下午要同一个从史密斯来的在红十字会工作的姑娘约会，这姑娘的父亲开了一家重要的镁乳厂。“瞧，那才是你应该留意的姑娘，而不是像刚才那位一样的粗俗荡妇。嗨，瞧她那样子，连干净都谈不上。”
“我不在乎！”内特利不顾一切地喊叫道，“我希望你给我闭嘴。
我根本不想和你谈论这件事。”
“阿费，住嘴吧，”约塞连说。
“哈，哈，哈，哈！”阿费又大笑了起来。“要是你父母知道你在同那个肮脏的淫妇厮混，对此他们会说些什么，我完全想象得出。要知道，你父亲可是一个很有名望的人。”
“我并不打算把这事告诉他，”内特利说，他已打定了主意。“关于她，我在他或母亲面前一个字也不提，等我们结婚后再告诉他们。”
“结婚？”阿费乐得纵声狂笑起来。“哈，哈，哈，哈，哈！你真是在说蠢话。嗬，你太嫩了，还不知道什么叫真正的爱。”
说到真正的爱，阿费可是这方面的权威，因为他已经真正爱上了内特利的父亲，并且有希望战后在他手下当一名行政人员，以作为对他亲近内特利的报答。阿费是一名领队领航员，可自打离开大学后，他连自己究竟身在何处从来都没搞清楚。他是个和蔼可亲、心地宽厚的领队领航员。他在执行战斗任务时总是迷航，领着他那一中队的人飞到高射炮火最密集的空中。每次，中队里的其他成员部会将他臭骂一通，而他总是原谅他们。就在那天下午，他在罗马的大街上迷了路，始终没找到那位从史密斯来的、拥有重要镁乳厂的、符合其择偶条件的红十字会的姑娘。克拉夫特被击落丧命的那天，他在飞往弗拉拉执行任务时也迷失了方向。在每周一次前往帕尔马执行例行飞行时，他又一次迷了路。当时约塞连对帕尔马这个没有设防的内陆目标扔完炸弹后，就背靠飞机那厚厚的金属板壁安顿下来闭目养神，手指间还夹着一支香气扑鼻的香烟。可这时阿费却试图领着飞机穿过来航上空，往大海飞去。突然，高射炮声大作，紧接着就听见了麦克沃特在对讲机里尖声大叫：“高射炮！高射炮！该死的，我们这是在哪儿？究竟***出了什么事？”
约塞连连忙惊慌地睁开双眼，他万万没料到会看见高射炮弹的黑烟在机舱里弥漫，正从头顶上方向他们压下来。接着他又看见了阿费那张一向自鸣得意、像西瓜一样滚圆、生着一对小眼睛的脸，这会儿这张脸上挂着一副慈祥却又茫然的表情，正盯着那炸个不停的炮火。约塞连被吓得目瞪口呆。他的一条腿突然一阵麻木。
麦克沃特已经开始让飞机爬高，并对着对讲机大喊大叫，要求指示。约塞连向前扑去，想看看他们这会儿是在哪里，可人却仍呆在原地。他动弹不了。他感觉到身上什么地方湿透了，于是低头朝自己的裤裆看了看，心头一沉，并感到极度的恶心。一股鲜红的血沿着他衬衣的前襟迅速地向上蠕动，就像一只巨大的海怪正站起来准备将他吞吃掉。他中弹了！鲜血像无数只阻挡不住的蠕动着的红色幼虫，一滴一滴接连不断地从一条湿透了的裤管里溢出，在地板上汇成了一小汪血泊。他的心脏停止了跳动。这时飞机又一次遭到了结结实实的一击。看着自己伤处的奇怪情景，约塞连一阵心悸，不禁打了个寒战，便冲着阿费尖叫求救。
“我的睾丸被打掉了！阿费，我的睾丸没了！”阿费没听见他的话，约塞连于是俯过身去拉他的胳臂。“阿费，救救我，”他哀求道，几乎哭了出来。“我中弹了！我中弹了！”
阿费慢吞吞地回过身来，茫然而又疑惑地露齿一笑，问：“你说什么？”
阿费又咧嘴一笑，亲切地耸了耸肩。“我听不见，”他说。
“难道你看不见？”约塞连表示怀疑地大声叫了起来。他感到鲜血在自己身体的四周溅得到处都是，并在脚下淌了开来。他指着地上越积越多的鲜血喊道：“我受伤了！看在上帝的分上，救救我吧！
阿费，救救我！”
“我还是听不见你在说什么。”阿费很宽容地抱怨了一句，一边窝起那只胖乎乎的手置于自己毫无血色的耳朵之后。“你刚才说什么来着？”
约塞连再答话时声音一下子降了八度，因为他突然对一切都感到厌倦了。他厌倦喊叫，厌倦自己目前的处境，此时他做什么都是徒劳的，只能令他气恼，使他觉得自己滑稽可笑。他快要死了，可竟然没人注意到这一点。“算了。”
“你说什么？”阿费大声喊道。
“我说我的睾丸被打掉了。难道你听不见？我大腿根那儿受伤了！”
“我还是听不见你说的话，”阿费责备他说。
“我说算了！”约塞连尖声叫了起来，他感到自己好像中了圈套，害怕极了，突然浑身发冷，四肢无力，不禁颤抖了起来。
阿费再次遗憾地摇了摇头，低下他那只可憎的、乳白色的耳朵，几乎快贴到了约塞连的脸上。“你得大声一点，我的朋友。你只要再大声一点就行了。”
“别管我，你这个杂种！你这个装聋作哑、麻木不仁的杂种，别管我！”约塞连呜咽着说。他真想给阿费一拳，可却连抬起手臂的力气都没有。他只好决定睡觉，于是身体朝旁边一歪，昏了过去。
他的大腿受了伤。当他苏醒时，他发现麦克沃特正跪在他身边照料自己。尽管仍能看到阿费那张鼓鼓囊囊，孩子似的胖脸凑在麦克沃特的肩后看他，约塞连还是感到十分宽慰。他感到浑身难受，可仍无力地朝麦克沃特笑了笑，问道：“谁在照看铺子？”麦克沃特根本没听见他的话。约塞连越来越感到恐惧，他喘了一口气，用尽可能高的声音将刚才的话又重复了一遍。
麦克沃特抬起头看了他一眼。“天啊，你还活着，我真高兴！”他长长地吁了口气，激动地喊了起来。他那双和蔼、亲切的眼睛周围布满了皱纹，此时紧张得发白，机舱里的烟灰沾到上面显得油腻腻的。约塞连感觉到他的一条大腿的内侧绑着一大块棉花敷料，沉甸甸的，而麦克沃特手上拿着一卷长长的绷带，正在用它往那块敷料上一圈一圈地缠绕。“内特利在控制飞机。这可怜的小伙子听说你中弹了，几乎放声大哭起来。他到现在还以为你已经死了。他们打破了你的一条动脉，不过我想我已经将它给扎住了。我刚才给你注射了一针吗啡。”
“再给我打一针。”
“现在恐怕还太早。等你感觉到疼痛的时候，我再给你打。”
“现在就很疼。”
“哦，好吧，管他呢，”麦克沃特说，紧接着便又拿出了一只可折叠的皮下注射器，在约塞连的胳臂上注射了一管吗啡。
“你告诉内特利我没死的时候……”约塞连刚对麦克沃特说了这几个字，就感到眼前好像出现了一层薄薄的草莓色胶，一切都变得模糊不清；一大片低沉的嗡嗡声把他吞没了。他又一次昏了过去。他再次醒来已是在救护车里了，他冲着丹尼卡医生那张像象鼻虫一样忧郁、阴沉的脸笑了一下，以此为他打气。他就这么头昏眼花地清醒了一两秒钟，而后眼前的一切又一次变成像玫瑰花瓣似的粉红色一片，再后来就成了一团漆黑，接着就是深不可测的沉寂。
约塞连在医院里醒了过来，随后又睡着了。当他在医院里再度醒来时，那股乙醚的气味已经没有了。邓巴穿着睡衣，躺在过道对面的病床上，可他一再声称自己不叫邓巴，而是一个姓福尔蒂奥里的什么人。约塞连心想他准是疯了。他噘起嘴唇，对邓巴说的话表示怀疑。在以后的一两天里，他老是断断续续地想着这事，将信将疑，总是拿不准主意。后来，当他又一次醒来时，他发现护士们都在别处忙活，于是他便小心翼翼地从床上挪了下来，想亲眼探个究竟。地板就像海滩上漂动不已的木筏一样晃个不歇。当他一瘸一拐地横穿过道去察看挂在邓巴床脚边的体温登记卡上写的姓名时，他大腿内侧的缝线就像被两排细碎的鱼齿撕咬着一般疼痛。果然不错，邓巴说得对，他已不再是邓巴，而是安东尼·费·福尔蒂奥里少尉。
“这究竟是怎么回事？”
安·福尔蒂奥里从床上爬了下来，示意约塞连跟着他走。约塞连抓住自己够得着的任何东西，以支撑身体，一瘸一拐地跟在他的后面出了房间，进入走廊，来到他们紧隔壁的那间病房里的一张病床前。那张床上躺着一个正在遭受伤痛折磨的年轻人，只见他满脸的丘疹，还长了一个向后削的下巴。当他们走近时，这个一脸苦相的年轻人轻捷地用一只胳臂时撑起身来。安·福尔蒂奥里突然用大拇指朝自己的肩后一指，说：“快走开！”这个饱受痛苦的年轻人不敢有丝毫怠慢，从床上跳下来跑走了。安·福尔蒂奥里爬上了这张床，他又成了邓巴了。
“那个人才是安·福尔蒂奥里，”邓巴解释说，“你病房里没有空床了，所以我就亮了亮我的军衔，将他赶到我的房间来。这可真是一次令人得意的经历，嘿，亮亮军衔。你有时不妨也试试。其实，你现在就应该试试，因为你看上去像是要倒下去了。”
约塞连的确感到自己像是要倒下去了。他转向躺在邓巴旁边床上的那个双颊深陷、皮肤粗糙的中年人，使劲用大拇指朝自己肩后一指，说：“快走开！”那中年人一动也不动，怒气冲冲地拿两眼瞪着他。
“他是一名少校，”邓巴解释道，“你干吗不把目标对准军衔低些的人，你就试试当一回霍默·拉姆利准尉怎么样？这样，你就有了一个在州立法机关当差的父亲，还有一个同滑雪冠军订了婚的妹妹，你只要告诉他你是个上尉就行了。”
约塞连转身对着邓巴所指的那个病人，那人吃了一惊。“我是上尉。”说着他把大拇指用力朝肩后一指。“快走开！”
听到约塞连的命令，那个吃惊的病人一下子跳到地上，立即跑走了。约塞连爬到那人的床上，转眼间就变成了霍默·拉姆利准尉。此时他觉得想吐，并且突如其来地出了一身冷汗。他在那里睡了一个小时，就又想重新变为约塞连了。有一个当州议员的父亲和一个同滑雪冠军订了婚的妹妹也并没有多大的意义。于是，由邓巴领路，他们又回到了约塞连的病房。一到那里，邓巴又用大拇指将那个安·福尔蒂奥里撵出了病房，让他再去做一阵子邓巴。病房里连霍默·拉姆利准尉的影子都看不见，可克拉默护士倒是在这里。
她装出一副气恼的样子，就像一根受了潮、在咝咝作响的爆竹。她命令约塞连立即回到自己的病床上去，却又挡着他的路，使他无法按她的话去做。此时她那张漂亮脸蛋比以往任何时候都令人讨厌。
克拉默护士是个好脾气同时又多愁善感的人。每当她听到有人结婚、订婚、生孩子或庆祝周年纪念日的消息，她总是由衷地为人家感到高兴，尽管这些人她一个也不认识。
“难道你疯了？”她好心好意地数落着他，一边生气地将一根手指在他的眼前晃个不停。“我看你是不打算要你的这条小命了，是不是？”
“这是我自己的命。”他提醒她。
“我看你也不想要你的这条腿了，是吗？”
“这是我自己的腿。”
“它肯定不是你的腿，”克拉默护士反驳道，“这条腿属于美国政府，它和一件装备或一只便盆没什么两样。为了把你培养成一名飞行员，美国军队在你的身上投下了大量的资金，所以你没有权利不遵从医生的命令。”
约塞连自己也说不准他是否喜欢国家在他身上进行的这种投资。此时克拉默护士仍然站在他的面前，因此他无法走过去。他感到头痛。克拉默护士又大叫大嚷地向他提了几个问题，对此他一点儿也听不明白。于是，他举起大拇指使劲向肩后一指，说：“快走开。”
克拉默护士照着他的脸狠狠地抽了一个耳光，差点没把他打倒在地。约塞连捏起拳头朝着她的下颌打过来，可就在这时他的那条腿一软，整个人眼看着就要跌倒。就在这时达克特护士及时赶到了，一把将约塞连抓住。她用严厉的语气质问他俩：
“这到底是怎么回事？”
“他不肯回到床上去，”克拉默护士用受了极大委屈的口气急切地向她报告说，“苏·安，他还对我说了一句最最不要脸的下流话。噢，要我重复一遍我都说不出口。”
“她管我叫一件装备。”约塞连喃喃地说。
达克特护士一点也不同情他。“你是自己回到床上去呢，”她问，“还是要我揪着你的耳朵，把你拖到床上去？”
“揪着我的耳朵，把我拖到床上去好了。”约塞连谅她不敢这么做。
可达克特护士却真的揪着他的耳朵把他拖上了床。
