Word: helmeted
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...suits of insulated, porous underwear, then a partial-pressure suit, heavy, quilted long underwear, standard Air Force flying suit, heavy G.I. socks, electrically heated socks, heavy woolen socks, rubberized boots (called Li'l Abners), nylon gloves, high-altitude pressure gloves, electrically heated flying gloves, glass-faced space helmet. At 3:30 a.m. he lay down on a tarpaulin on the desert floor and began breathing pure oxygen. In just five hours, red-haired Jet Pilot Joe Kittinger, father of two children, holder of the Distinguished Flying Cross for his historic balloon ascension to 96,000 ft. 2½ years...
...Past. Twenty-five years ago, the U.S. proudly ended a 19-year Marine occupation in Haiti; the return of the Marines is ironical but seemingly vital. Colonel Heinl (Pearl Harbor, Iwo Jima, Korea), Yaleman ('37) and Marine historian, arrived last January with red mustache, pith helmet and fluent French to find the Haitian army in horrifying shape...
...week and late into every night, Hubbell Robinson drives himself and his underlings with the kind of awesome energy that has made him TV's biggest producer. Sundays at his Beverly Hills home he likes to relax by donning a topee or a menacing German combat helmet and a British officer's short jacket and moodily marching about with his poodles (names: Hedda and Louella) and his vast television dreams. Occasionally, his reverie may be shattered by a cry from his third wife,* blonde Musicomedienne Vivienne (Pal Joey) Segal: "For heaven's sake, Hub, take off that...
...bath so that his neck muscles would not have become tense, and turned the blade. Influence and nerve got him back into action. Within seven months he was sent to India, where a demoralized British army was still reeling from the loss of Burma. Wearing his accustomed sun helmet and a biblical beard, Wingate developed his theory of "long-range penetration groups" to operate behind the Japanese lines...
Swept by stiff ground winds, his chute fouled in a tree, and Pilot Rankin slammed headfirst into the tree trunk. He got up groggily, stiff, cold and numb, with his crash helmet knocked askew. He stumbled into a thicket, was for a moment almost hysterical. Then to himself: "You've come this far down for this? Let's get organized." He began walking a procedural-square search, found himself after two 90° turns on a country road. A dozen cars passed him as he stood on the road, wet, bloody, vomit-stained and haggard, and waving feebly...