Death

Still no word from my wife. I fear that the military has notified her that I have been killed in action and that she believes my letters to be from an impostor. ...I’m so alone. No one at the squadron acknowledges the sight of me and I can’t even withdraw pay. I live off of the small good deeds of Milo and Sergeant Towser, although both believe me to be “dead,” too. My death provoked Cathcart to raise the number of missions to seventy, so all the men curse my memory. I have nothing left! No hopes for my future, no family to be heard from, no friends, no thermometer to check my temperature daily. I know my health is no declining at an unsafe pace. My face has ages about twenty years and black, hollow sacks have developed under my eyes. Even Captain Flume will not speak to me now. …What does it even mean to be “alive”? Being alive involves interaction with other people, enjoying simple pleasures, eating, sleeping, dreaming, working… Well, I guess for all intents and purposes, I really am “dead.” There is not much left “alive” in me. My only hope is to wait for the end of the war and the mercy of someone to bring me back to life.

Letter Home #2

Dear, dear Mrs. Daneeka,

I hoped my first letter would reach you. However, since I have not heard back from you, I fear you believe me to be dead. I would like to reiterate that I AM NOT DEAD. Please, I beg of you Sally, contact the War Department and plead my case. They made an administrative error and are using my “supposed” death to cover it up. Contact my group commander, Colonel Cathcart, and tell him to get things straightened out. I am not someone posing as your husband. I am Tedd Daneeka, whom you married twelve years ago on the 14^th of June, in Springhill, New York. I love you and miss you dearly…Please believe me! I need you right now more than ever. You have always been my sunshine, and at the moment, you are my only hope of getting out of this terrible mess. Like I said, contact the War Department as soon as possible. I’m begging you, Sally; believe me, it’s Tedd.

Yours forever,

Doc Daneeka

Letter Home

Dear my beloved Mrs. Daneeka,

Darling, I want you to know I am NOT dead. There has been a mistake, but I am alive, although not very well. You see, it’s a long story, but basically they thought I was on a plane that crashed but I did not go on the flight. Uh…it was a horrible sight. I saw the plane crash into the mountain. But anyways, PLEASE DISREGARD anyone who tries to tell you that I am dead. They are confused. I wish I was home with you right now, to hold you in person and assure you of the life flowing through my veins. For now please take my word and continue waiting for me to return to you. I will be a successful doctor one day and you will have everything you could wish for. …My dear, I love you so very much.

Yours truly,

Doc Daneeka

Bureaucratically, I'm dead!

Oh me, oh my! What am I going to do? Why did I ask Yossarian to put my name on McWatt’s flight roster? I needed my four hours per month of flight time, but I hate flying!!! It was the best solution. But now, I’M DEAD! According to the military records I, Doc Daneeka, was on the training flight with McWatt when he killed Kid Sampson and then flew his plane into the mountain. I am dead in their minds simply because my name was on the roster with McWatt’s! Sergeant Knight pronounced me dead while I stood next to him. We watched the plane crash into the mountain together!!! This is sooooo crazy! I don’t know what I’m going to do. Even Gus and Wes said I’m dead while I was standing right in front of them. …War does crazy things to people. No one in a position of leadership wants to admit that there was a mistake in their bureaucratic rulings. I have to find some way to prove I’m alive without making “them” look bad!!!

Milo's Stupidity

Milo is such an absurd, treacherous, and inconsiderate mess officer! He’s so stupid! Why would any man make a deal with the enemy in a time of war, to bomb his own squadron? Last night when the bombs started going off, I flipped! I’m never usually that close to actual fighting and I didn’t have a clue what to do. Men were wounded all over and calling for me, so I began to crawl around from man to man, trying to avoid the flying shrapnel. I made tourniquets, gave out morphine, and put broken bones in splints. All the while I tried to focus on my work and not on the foolish air raid going on around me. Now isn’t that completely immoral and disloyal to bomb your own men?!?

I didn’t stop all night. In each man’s wound I saw a foreshadowing of my own body’s decay. …This morning I must go get my temperature taken by Gus and Wes. After last night’s escapade, it has surely gone up! Oh, I hope those men know I risked my health and my very life for them last night!!!

Avignon Mission Flashback

Today I woke up thinking of when Yossarian came back from the Avignon mission. That was Snowden’s last mission. Oh, when Yossarian stepped off that plane, covered in blood and guts, my heart sank to my stomach. Snowden was past saving and Yossarian was scarred for life. He never has been the same since. His very eyes told me the story of what happened on the plane. I know what it is like to helplessly watch men die. I brought him back to the medical tent that night, cleaned Snowden off of him, and then gave him a shot to put him to sleep for twelve hours. Yossarain woke up after twelve hours and I just gave him another shot. He slept twelve more hours, and when he woke up I got ready to give the poor guy a third shot. He asked me how long I’d keep giving him those shots, and I said until he felt better. Surprisingly, he said he felt all right. Then his whole naked tradition began. I asked him why he didn’t go put some clothes on. He replied that he didn’t want to wear a uniform ever again. …I guess I can understand. He’s been through a lot.

Catch-22 and Yossarian

I was thinking today about the circular logic of a Catch-22. Uhh…it was so hard to explain it to Yossarian that one day when he wanted to be grounded. I told him that I couldn’t ground him just for asking me. I don’t want to get into trouble, for goodness sake’s! I might be shipped off to the Pacific. Yossarian asked if I could ground him for being crazy. I replied that of course I would ground him if he was crazy. Then he tried to convince me that he is crazy. Finally I explained the Catch-22 to him: I can only ground men from flying who are crazy, but if someone asks to be grounded that proves they are not crazy! Who knows how much Yossarian understood of that conversation. He’s just moved on to finding other ways around flying. … Oh dearie me, I think I’m sick for sure today. I should go to Gus and Wes to get my temperature taken…

The Great Big Siege of Bologna

Here on Pianosa there are slow times and busy times for me. One of the only times I was completely without work was around the time of the Great Big Siege of Bologna. Colonel Cathcart, wanting to be a big shot, volunteered his group for this dangerous mission. I could tell the men resented him for it. Each day leading up to the siege the camp grew gloomier and gloomier. All the men were sure this would be their last mission. Colonel Korn even ordered that my medical tent be closed! He wanted to make sure no one evaded this mission by calling in sick. Well, I just sat on my stool during those days, watching the men, and wondering what to do with my time. The sign on the closed door of my medical tent read, “CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. DEATH IN THE FAMILY.” Captain Black thought that the sign would be a pretty good joke. Ha, I think not! I’m sitting here in the Mediterranean wasting away while all my other collogues in the States are moving forward in their careers, raking in the dough, and developing a flourishing practice!!! There’s been no death in the family…but it sure feels like it to me.

I have so much to worry about...

NO ONE can figure out what is wrong with me! I know I have some serious health problem that will one day pounce on me and kill me quickly. My nose is constantly stuffy, and not just when I have a cold, ALL THE TIME. There’s this weird ache in my lower back that seems to be to the left of my spine about three centimeters. I sometimes can’t feel my toes after a day of work standing. My temperature goes up extremely high every night but by the time I go to get it checked each morning by Gus and Wes, it is never higher than 96.8 degrees. I am seriously distressed that no one can find out what is wrong with me. Gus and Wes, my assistants, truthfully have no idea what they’re doing, and so they’re absolutely no help at all! I find it frustrating that all these soldiers are so worried and anxious. I mean, hello!?! I’m the one who has problems!!! They at least know how they’re going to die. I’m going to just fall over dead one of these days, I just know it! Then I’ll never earn the big money I qualify to earn in the States. Ohhh!!! All of this is so distressing!

If only this war had not broken out! I would be so rich by now. Things were really taking off at my practice back home. I'm a doctor, not a psychiatrist! How am I supposed to help all these crazy soldiers?! This war does weird things to people. I've seen the effects of the war in all my patients here. They all want to live, but when they get a close scare with death, sometimes their desire to live takes weird forms... Hungry Joe, for instance, keeps having nightmares until he is given a mission assignment. Others fly fearlessly on their missions, denying the very real possibility of death. But what do I care about their problems. I have problems of my own! I should be back in the states making fifty thousand a year!