Word: censored
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...longer be allowed with safety to the forces," he and his fellow correspondents protested violently against not being allowed to use such a phrase as "the siege of Singapore": " 'But surely you can't deny that we are besieged.' " 'Besieged, yes,' said the military censor, 'but I object to the noun "siege".' " Such bureaucracy was seriously harmful in the more vital areas of the war. But it is Weller's view that the picture of Singapore as a decadent, liquor-swilling, escapist community is totally false. Decisions came from London, and from...
From North Africa, Private John Ganz wrote to his 19-year-old wife Gloria: "Oh, boy, how I miss you. I can hardly wait till I get home. (I hope the censor doesn't mind me writing this)." By the time Gloria Ganz got the letter a blue-penciled footnote had been added: "The censor wishes he was home...
...keep his two novice stars in the public eye during the picture's long delay, Hughes hired Press Agent Russell Birdwell. Birdwell's solution: high-pressure exploitation of Miss Russell's flaring femininity. Result: some 60 magazine articles, innumerable news pictures. The Hays office helped by censoring one or two shots from The Outlaw. When the Hays office objected to a Buetel line, "You borrowed from me; now I borrowed your gal," Hughes changed the line to "Tit for tat." Hastily the Hays censor agreed the first version...
Newspapers had been playing blindman's buff with the Roosevelt-Churchill Casablanca conference story ever since Jan. 9, when all editors were advised by Censor Byron Price: "The President is taking another trip. . . . Attention is directed forcefully to the Code provision restricting any information regarding [his] movements. . . ." By Jan. 25, when the printable news reached their desks, with another 32 hours before it could be officially released (at 10 p.m. E.W.T., the 26th), they had fidgets. Meanwhile they hinted to the hilt...
Christmas has some queer outward manifestations in this crazy godforsaken land of battle: death, injury, disease and the grim terror of loneliness. There is not much peace, not much good will. But the other night the Army field censor was going through the unit's letters and he silently handed me one short note and pointed to the final paragraph. It was from an Ohio private to his wife: "It will be a different Christmas this year. The altar will be a fallen tree in this stinking jungle. All around there will be the stink of sweat, unwashed clothes...