С безумием можно бороться по-разному, в частности – через другое безумие. Так, некоторое время назад прочитал пораженческую антивоенную классику Джозефа Хеллера «Уловка-22» и посмотрел экранизацию 1970 года, а на днях – ещё и ремейк 2019 года с Джорджем Клуни. Ремейк спорный, но как-то мне зашёл там один диалог, почти дословно повторяющий оригинальное произведение. Не нашёл нормальный русский перевод этого места у Хеллера, но вот как этот спор звучит на англосаксонском: ‘…But it’s not for us to determine what targets must be destroyed or who’s to destroy them or—’ ‘Or who gets killed doing it? And why?’ ‘Yes, even that. We have no right to question—’ ‘You’re insane!’ ‘—no right to question—’ ‘Do you really mean that it’s not my business how or why I get killed and that it is Colonel Cathcart’s? Do you really mean that?’ ‘Yes, I do,’ Clevinger insisted, seeming unsure. ‘There are men entrusted with winning the war who are in a much better position than we are to decide what targets have to be bombed.’ ‘We are talking about two different things,’ Yossarian answered with exaggerated weariness. ‘You are talking about the relationship of the Air Corps to the infantry, and I am talking about the relationship of me to Colonel Cathcart. You are talking about winning the war, and I am talking about winning the war and keeping alive.’ ‘Exactly,’ Clevinger snapped smugly. ‘And which do you think is more important?’ ‘To whom?’ Yossarian shot back. ‘Open your eyes, Clevinger. It doesn’t make a damned bit of difference who wins the war to someone who’s dead.’ Clevinger sat for a moment as though he’d been slapped. ‘Congratulations!’ he exclaimed bitterly, the thinnest milk-white line enclosing his lips tightly in a bloodless, squeezing ring. ‘I can’t think of another attitude that could be depended upon to give greater comfort to the enemy.’ ‘The enemy,’ retorted Yossarian with weighted precision, ‘is anybody who’s going to get you killed, no matter which side he’s on, and that includes Colonel Cathcart. And don’t you forget that, because the longer you remember it, the longer you might live.’ But Clevinger did forget it, and now he was dead.