“Help him, help him,” Dobbs was sobbing. “Help him, help him.”

“Help who? Help who?” Yossarian called back. “Help who?”

“The bombardier, the bombardier,” Dobbs cried. “He doesn’t answer. Help the bombardier, help the bombardier.”

“I’m the bombardier,” Yossarian cried back at him. “I’m the bombardier. I’m all right. I’m all right.”

“Then help him, help him,” Dobbs wept. “Help him, help him.”