“Yossarian was petrified. The new bombardier beside him sat demurely with a bewitched grin and kept whistling ‘Whee!’ and Yossarian wanted to reach out and crush his idiotic face with one hand…’Go up, go up, go up!’ he shouted frantically…Yossarian, blazing with rage and almost sobbing for revenge, hurled himself down the crawlway…to stand trembling behind…the pilot’s seat. He looked desperately about for a gun…There was no gun. There was no hunting knife, either, and no other weapon with which he could bludgeon or stab, and Yossarian …slid both hands around around [the pilot’s] bare throat and squeezed. …’Go up,’ Yossarian ordered unmistakably through his teeth in a low, menacing voice. ‘Or I’ll kill you’…[As the plane climbed [Yossarian] was not angry any more. He was ashamed. ‘Boy,’ [said the pilot], ‘you sure must be in pretty bad shape. You ought to go home.’ ‘They won’t let me,’ Yossarian answered with averted eyes, and crept away…hanging his head with guilt and remorse…” [pp 342-343 of the 1989 Special Edition].
“Joe…said little about the craft of writing, presenting himself instead as a ‘born promotion man.’…one student said ‘He comes on like a real Madison Avenue fat cat…’Either that guy is wearing a mask or he didn’t write that book,’ said another young undergrad. (When apprised of this comment, George Mandel [a close friend of Heller’s] said, ‘Of course he’s masked. He’d be an open wound otherwise.’)”