Catch-22

colonel was certainly not going to waste his time and energy making love to beautiful women unless there was something in it for him.

They had not brains enough to be introverted and repressed.

Nately had been brought up to detest people like Aarfy, whom his mother characterized as climbers, and people like Milo, whom his father characterized as pushers, but he had never learned how, since he had never been permitted near them.

Major Danby seemed surprised by Yossarian’s question. “I do it to help my country,” he replied, as though the answer should have been obvious. “Colonel Cathcart and Colonel Korn are my superiors, and obeying their orders is the only contribution I can make to the war effort. I work along with them because it’s my duty. And also,” he added in a much lower voice, dropping his eyes, “because I am not a very aggressive person.”

“Let them send me home because I flew more than fifty missions,” Yossarian said, “and not because I was stabbed by that girl, or because I’ve turned into such a stubborn son of a bitch.”

What? What must I do?”
Colonel Korn laughed curtly. “Like us.”
Yossarian blinked. “Like you?”
“Like us.”
“Like you?”
“That’s right,” said Colonel Korn,

“I’m afraid he’s got you,” added Colonel Korn. “You’re either for us or against your country. It’s as simple as that.”

Colonel Korn nodded approvingly. “That’s good. I like the way you lie. You’ll go far in this world if you ever acquire some decent ambition.”

They were the most depressing group of people Yossarian had ever been with. They were always in high spirits. They laughed at everything.

Colonel Cathcart was so upset by the deaths of Kid Sampson and McWatt that he raised the missions to sixty-five.