Yossarian bounded up with a one-syllable cry that crackled with anxiety and provided the only rational explanation for the whole mysterious phenomenon of the flak at Bologna: Orr!
Nately bounded forward wretchedly to hold it open.
Next he began binding the compress in place with a roll of gauze.
Nately bounded out of bed after a few minutes to announce his good fortune to his friends at the top of his voice.
He bounded out of the bed to his feet.
Yossarian yelled, and bounded forward impulsively to intercept him.
…ironically enough, while he was leading the triumphal procession into the open city of Rome, where he was wounded in the eye by a flower fired at him from close range by a seedy, cackling, intoxicated old man, who, like Satan himself, had then bounded up on Major — de Coverley’s car with malicious glee, seized him roughly and contemptuously by his venerable white head and kissed him mockingly on each cheek with a mouth reeking with sour fumes of wine, cheese and garlic, before dropping…