Word: chests
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...when I commanded the 29th Ordnance Bomb Disposal Squad near Portsmouth, England, I was called to a U.S. Army hospital and asked to identify an object silhouetted on X-ray plates. It was a 20-mm. shell, embedded in the chest of an American merchant seaman who had been on the deck of his ship at Omaha Beach, June 6. A surgeon cut the man open, grasped the shell with forceps and put it into my hands. There were no sandbags, though I did observe a bead or two of sweat...
...buttered them. He politely said nothing about the veal cutlet. He refolded his napkin neatly when he was through. He wore a charcoal herringbone suit, and he buttoned his vest all the way-so only his tailor knew for sure about those 17-inch biceps, that 46-inch chest and that 32-inch waist. But the banquet toastmaster was not fooled for a second. "Gentlemen," he firmly announced, "I give you Superman...
Well, not quite. James Nathaniel Brown, 29, fullback of the National Football League's Champion Cleveland Browns, cannot leap over the Empire State Building-or even stop bullets with his chest. But it is sheer nonsense to try to convince the practitioners and patrons of pro football that Jimmy Brown is an ordinary mortal. After nine seasons in the league, Brown is regarded as a genuine phenomenon in a sport that shares the language ("blitz," "bullet," "bomb") of war. Pro football's stars are the samurai of sport-immensely skilled, brutally tough, corrosively honest mercenaries who respect each...
...into the Giants' secondary. Two defenders hit him-wham! wham!-at the 6-yd. line. Somehow, Jimmy kept his feet. Painfully, in a kind of slow-motion, he dragged them to the three, planted a foot, gave a mighty lunge and pitched forward, hugging the ball to his chest. His knees landed at the one; the ball landed in the end zone...
...crowded reception, the General pours out conversation--his lower chin ripples, his legs spread wide apart to support his heavy frame, and a broad smile sends the deep wrinkles in his face scattering under his white hair. The voice rises from a point near the bottom of his chest where the bands of medals end. "I'm one of those fellas," he says, "who always wanted to be a lawyer and never got to be. In my day bein' a lawyer meant bein' a politician--but I guess I'm pretty much in the thick of things right...