Word: cricketeers
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...held under two huge, orange-and-black-striped tents that were floored with rich Oriental rugs), heard the eerie caterwauling of pipes played by a countermarching military regiment, watched Pathan tribesmen from the northwest frontier as they danced in wild, hair-tossing abandon, observed part of an Australian-Pakistani cricket match, marveled at an exhibition of tent-pegging (in which shrieking horsemen galloped full speed at tent pegs and picked them out of the ground on their lances as they swooped...
...almost any task assigned it. The rank and file are northerners and mostly from that cradle of warriors, the Punjab. The Indian army officer sometimes appears to be the very, very model of the British tradition: he has probably attended Sandhurst, speaks with an Oxford accent, plays polo and cricket, wears a mustache and carries a swagger stick. The first-rate Indian air force uses British twin-jet Canberra bombers and French Mystere jet fighters -all obtained by purchase, since Nehru believes that military aid would compromise India's traditional neutrality...
...most austere wedding trip imaginable-a drive in the buggy to a nearby spring for a refreshing drink of water (the month was January). The son was as free of vice as he was of intellectual curiosity. Throughout his life, his favorite plays were Rip Van Winkle and The Cricket on the Hearth. Methodist McKinley's only unseemly heritage from the smoke-filled rooms where he started his political career was the habit of smoking an occasional stogie (he chewed, too, while Governor of Ohio, and his spittoon aim was fine...
...sight of the nostalgic crowd on the Horse Guards Parade when its engine began to cough and sputter. Losing altitude rapidly, the pilot, Air Vice Marshal Harold John Maguire, spotted a green and empty sports field and prepared to belly-land on it. As the Oxo and Old Hollingtonian cricket teams, which had just retired to the pavilion for their half-time tea, watched in amazement, the stricken Spitfire shot in, flaps down and wheels up, narrowly missed an oak tree, flattened on the grass and skidded 60 yards to a stop in the outfield...
Otto Standke craftily dismisses his cricket bats and similar flasheries, says they have no meaning; the real secret is contained in a doubly locked metal box, which he opens in the presence of no man. He is probably telling the truth, for the best guess entomologists have made about his methods is that he knows just how much poison a starling can take without dying, sprinkles it around while diverting onlookers' attention with his noisy toys. Starlings would not want to go back for more. Perhaps the aluminum tube around his neck is just a long salt shaker full...