'That's what that kind detective said before he decided to jab his thumb into my wound,' Yossarian retorted sarcastically.
'I am not a detective,' Major Danby replied with indignation, his cheeks flushing again. 'I'm a university professor with a highly developed sense of right and wrong, and I wouldn't try to deceive you.
I wouldn't lie to anyone.'
'What would you do if one of the men in the group asked you about this conversation?'
'I would lie to him.' Yossarian laughed mockingly, and Major Danby, despite his blushing discomfort, leaned back with relief, as though welcoming the respite Yossarian's changing mood promised. Yossarian gazed at him with a mixture of reserved pity and contempt. He sat up in bed with his back resting against the headboard, lit a cigarette, smiled slightly with wry amusement, and stared with whimsical sympathy at the vivid, pop-eyed horror that had implanted itself permanently on Major Danby's face the day of the mission to Avignon, when General Dreedle had ordered him taken outside and shot. The startled wrinkles would always remain, like deep black scars, and Yossarian felt sorry for the gentle, moral, middle-aged idealist, as he felt sorry for so many people whose shortcomings were not large and whose troubles were light.
With deliberate amiability he said, 'Danby, how can you work along with people like Cathcart and Korn? Doesn't it turn your stomach?' 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.'
'Your country doesn't need your help any more,' Yossarian reasoned with antagonism. 'So all you're doing is helping them.'
'I try not to think of that,' Major Danby admitted frankly. 'But I try to concentrate on only the big result and to forget that they are succeeding, too. I try to pretend that they are not significant.'
'That's my trouble, you know,' Yossarian mused sympathetically, folding his arms. 'Between me and every ideal I always find Scheisskopfs, Peckems, Korns and Cathcarts. And that sort of changes the ideal.'
'You must try not to think of them,' Major Danby advised affirmatively. 'And you must never let them change your values. Ideals are good, but people are sometimes not so good. You must try to look up at the big picture.' Yossarian rejected the advice with a skeptical shake of his head. 'When I look up, I see people cashing in. I don't see heaven or saints or angels. I see people cashing in on every decent impulse and every human tragedy.'
'But you must try not to think of that, too,' Major Danby insisted. 'And you must try not to let it upset you.'
'Oh, it doesn't really upset me. What does upset me, though, is that they think I'm a sucker. They think that they're smart, and that the rest of us are dumb. And, you know, Danby, the thought occurs to me right now, for the first time, that maybe they're right.'
'But you must try not to think of that too,' argued Major Danby. 'You must think only of the welfare of your country and the dignity of man.'
'Yeah,' said Yossarian.
'I mean it, Yossarian. This is not World War One. You must never forget that we're at war with aggressors who would not let either one of us live if they won.'
'I know that,' Yossarian replied tersely, with a sudden surge of scowling annoyance. 'Christ, Danby, I earned that medal I got, no matter what their reasons were for giving it to me. I've flown seventy goddam combat missions. Don't talk to me about fighting to save my country. I've been fighting all along to save my country. Now I'm going to fight a little to save myself. The country's not in danger any more, but I am.'
'The war's not over yet. The Germans are driving toward Antwerp.'
'The Germans will be beaten in a few months. And Japan will be beaten a few months after that. If I were to give up my life now, it wouldn't be for my country. It would be for Cathcart and Korn. So I'm turning my bombsight in for the duration. From now on I'm thinking only of me.' Major Danby replied indulgently with a superior smile, 'But, Yossarian, suppose everyone felt that way.'
'Then I'd certainly be a damned fool to feel any other way, wouldn't I?' Yossarian sat up straighter with a quizzical expression. 'You know, I have a queer feeling that I've been through this exact conversation before with someone. It's just like the chaplain's sensation of having experienced everything twice.'
'The chaplain wants you to let them send you home,' Major Danby remarked.
'The chaplain can jump in the lake.'
'Oh, dear.' Major Danby sighed, shaking his head in regretful disappointment. 'He's afraid he might have influenced you.'
'He didn't influence me. You know what I might do? I might stay right here in this hospital bed and vegetate. I could vegetate very comfortably right here and let other people make the decisions.'
'You must make decisions,' Major Danby disagreed. 'A person can't live like a vegetable.'
'Why not?' A distant warm look entered Major Danby's eyes. 'It must be nice to live like a vegetable,' he conceded wistfully.
'It's lousy,' answered Yossarian.
'No, it must be very pleasant to be free from all this doubt and pressure,' insisted Major Danby. 'I think I'd like to live like a vegetable and make no important decisions.'
'What kind of vegetable, Danby?'
'A cucumber or a carrot.'
'What kind of cucumber? A good one or a bad one?'