In the Kurt Vonnegut classic Slaughterhouse-Five, an American prisoner of war muttered something a guard did not like. “The guard knew English, and he hauled the American out of ranks, knocked him down,” Vonnegut wrote. The American was astonished. He stood up shakily, spitting blood. He’ d had two teeth knocked out. He had meant no harm by what he’d said, evidently, had no idea that the guard would hear and understand. “Why me?” he asked the guard. The guard shoved him back in ranks. “Vy you? Vy anybody?” he said. Vonnegut drums this theme relentlessly. “Why me?” moans Billy Pilgrim when he
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