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.
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