Word: greg
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...Professor Greg was an old hand at departmental politics, but he was also a great scholar. About to die, Greg decided to play a splendid little joke on the "academic community." The story, which carries a subtle overtone of Shavian irony, took place at a fictional university, but the characters are familiar: the smooth and politic department chairman, the impressive "Great Ideas" lecturer with little scholarship in his background, the pale, imitative young instructor. Perhaps the tale is not entirely uninteresting to officers and students of Harvard University...
Emeritus Professor Homer Greg was eighty-five, and so far as he or his doctor could tell, he might live to be one hundred and five. He was the despair of the business manager of the University, who month after month for twenty years, had mailed him a retirement check. The business manager himself was sixty-four, and, although he never allowed himself to say so, his having to make out checks for Professor Greg was a piece of unfinished business that he would like to see settled before he himself retired. The gray-haired woman who stamped the cards...
Boyington soon had learned to regret his impulse. The pay that had seemed so attractive-$675 a month, plus $500 for each Japanese plane-bought familiar pleasures: whisky and women. But though the Tigers were all technically civilians, Greg found himself jousting with superiors again. There was the old, retread captain who turned the boys out for a military muster every morning, and the group adjutant in Toungoo who threatened so many of his men with so many courts-martial that Boyington suspected "he must have been at least one jump ahead of a few himself in his military days...
...there were also P-4Os to fly. With terrifying shark teeth painted on their long, snarling snouts, they held their own and better with Jap Zeroes from Kunming to Thailand. And in them, Greg Boyington learned the unforgiving trade of the fighter pilot. He was an ace when he heard that the entire outfit was about to be drafted into the Army. By then, Boyington suspected that "Laughing Boy" Chennault was old-school Army, and had no use for marines. ("I shouldn't think he would even want a dead marine's body stinking up his precious China...
Fallen Angel. In Gainesville, Fla., seven-year-old Greg Davis, outraged because he had to sit obscurely in the back row during the commencement ceremony at a seven-day summer Bible school, commented that it was "a whole week's work shot to hell...