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...April 15, Harvard received a telegram from Carter Glass, Secretary of the Treasury, asking the College to buy $30,000 in bonds towards the Victory Liberty Loan. Within a week the Contributions Committee, which had offered a German helmet to the best canvasser, had reached the Harvard quota. By May 12, the University had purchased $160,900 in bonds...

Author: By Richard E. Hyland, | Title: The Class of 1919 Comes Home | 6/10/1969 | See Source »

...squad spent its afternoons collecting spiders for a Finnish arachnologist, while other men spend hours creatively decorating their metal helmets with goose feathers, McCarthy buttons, toilet paper, obscene photographs, and extremely elaborate designs and slogans chipped in the green, white, and blue Hotshot helmet paint. Wearing the more elaborately decorated helmets became a status symbol and an expression of defiance of busy-work...

Author: By Mark W. Oberle, | Title: Why Not Let the Forests Burn? | 5/16/1969 | See Source »

They call themselves "Nam's Angels,"* but aside from one swastika that appeared on a crash helmet (it was ordered rubbed off), there is little of the Hell's Angel type in the four young soldiers. Their helmets are camouflaged, they carry .45s, and instead of leather gear, they wear flak jackets and fatigues. "Back in the world," as they refer to the U.S., they all grew up around engines, and Viet Nam has never seemed so like home...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: The War: And Now a Vroom | 5/2/1969 | See Source »

Darting about on her chrome-festooned motorcycle in her self-designed uniform-white crash helmet and boots, tight black pants and leather jacket-she might be taken for a Hell's Angel auxiliary. Up close, Esther Winders gives no such false impression. The badge on her breast, the pearl-handled pistol and the can of Chemical Mace that hang from her hips, clearly label Mrs. Winders what she is and always wanted to be: a lady...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Police: Heaven's Angel | 4/25/1969 | See Source »

...first pitch came in tight. I jumped back and my helmet flew off. There was this tremendous ringing noise. I couldn't stand it. Just a loud shriek all over me. I was trying to find some place in my mouth where I could get air through, but I couldn't breathe. I kept saying to myself, "Oh, God, let me breathe." I didn't think about my future in baseball. I just wanted to stay alive...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Baseball: Conig's Comeback | 4/11/1969 | See Source »

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