Yossarian wanted out. He knew the war just didn’t make sense. Men went mad and were rewarded with medals. All over the world, boys on every side of the bomb line were laying down their lives for what they had been told was their country, and no one seemed to mind, least of all the boys who were laying down their young lives. There was no end in sight. The only end in sight was Yossarian’s own. (___________________________) He couldn’t see them but he’d seen the flak whizzing up past the plane windows red and hot. One day one of those pieces was going to have his name on it.