Word: infantryman
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...tortures in the popular sense of the word; they are physical discomforts. Millions, that's right, millions of men have undergone the same sensations in the ordinary course of duty. The comparisons may not be exact, but I can personally guarantee a decided similarity. For example, many an infantryman has slept in a water-filled foxhole for "hours of darkness"; frozen, greasy hamburger or spaghetti in the same condition has been eaten (albeit, without much relish) by the same infantrymen; and if anyone thinks a hot, dusty, cramped medium tank on the Sahara Desert is any picnic...
...love with the landlord's daughter and develops an understandable hatred for her mean, spoiled brother. The paternalistic but unscrupulous landlord persuades young Harper to sign lying papers in order to get his clubfoot straightened at an insurance company's expense. Healed, Harper becomes a combat infantryman in World War II. He returns to find his cabin burned down, his girl married, and the landlord's wicked son in charge of the farm. When the son threatens to expose Harper's insurance fraud. Harper shoots him dead...
After a wartime layoff, during which he served as an infantryman in the French army, Urruty went home to concentrate on pelota. By then he could whip all comers. Once one of his ardent admirers presented him with a big cigar. Deeply honored, Urruty returned the compliment. He gave his fan, Sir Winston Churchill, a chistera as a souvenir...
...John Eisenhower, 32, looking startlingly like his father's son, brought out his wife Barbara and their brood-D. (for Dwight) David, 7, Barbara Anne, 6, and Susan, 3 -to meet the press. At his new post at Virginia's Fort Belvoir, Infantry Instructor Eisenhower showed an infantryman's skill in fielding grenadelike questions right back at their tossers. Asked slyly if he expected his Fort Belvoir assignment (probable term: three years) to last longer than Ike's stay in the White House, Major John flashed an Ikelike grin, replied: "Dad doesn't talk...
...truth was that Navigator Ripault had never cared about the war. He did not know how. He was one of those lonely thinkers, the introverts who went through the motions but never really took part in the conflict. Novelist Jules Roy, a onetime infantryman in the French army and World War II R.A.F. bomber pilot, writes about a navigator who is a distant, haunted figure, indistinguishable from all uniformed youthful intellectuals. His problems typify the problems of every individual lost in the impersonal service: companions suddenly turned dull and insensible, sudden fear that makes him weasel out of a flight...