Word: lap
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...maintains in South Viet Nam a Special Forces military mission intended to stiffen Diem's 170,000-man army and to give anti-guerrilla instruction to selected Ranger units. A TIME correspondent last week reported on the work of a five-man U.S. group at Trung Lap, a village only 20 miles northwest of Saigon. With a force of four Ranger companies-two in training, two in the field-and a detachment of Civil Guards, the U.S. mission is fighting the Viet Cong for control of an area scarcely 15 miles square inhabited by 110,000 peasants...
...early dusk at Trung Lap, U.S. Captain Edward Nidever, a West Pointer, was bent over a chess game. Comfortably dressed against the heat in shorts and sneakers, Nidever was about to move a pawn when the humid silence was broken by an outburst of rifle fire. "The Civil Guard's catching hell again," said Nidever as he slung an ammunition belt across a bare shoulder, grabbed a carbine and headed for the door...
Each morning at Trung Lap, Sergeant Guy Williams, a U.S. medic, gives free treatment to local peasants. They line up at his thatch-roofed "office," exposing their sores of yaws and jungle rot. Sometimes a hobbling peasant arrives with his foot pierced by a Communist shoe-mine-a viciously barbed spike planted in jungle trails. Two orphan sisters of 7 and 10 trudged in. Both had been wounded five days before by steel splinters from a Viet Cong grenade...
...shaped road circuit and a broad speed oval. They had come to see the five blood-red Italian Ferraris-all but one members of Enzo Ferrari's superb factory team. When the cars went off, Von Trips quickly faltered and fell behind. He had a history of first-lap trouble; fellow racers said of him: "If he gets past the first lap, he's all right." He was fifth, behind three Ferraris, and a forest-green Lotus driven by Britain's Jimmy Clark...
...give way to roast pigs, shank sausage and plump capons. She likes to dress like a ragpicker; the baron makes her buy the latest imported fineries. Ippolita doles out fourth-rate wine to the servants in "a quantity congruous for Christians of base extraction." The baron invites them to lap up casks of vintage Vaiano. When the baron goes off to war, Ippolita, with Balzacian parsimony, delightedly returns to her beans and mush, pawns her fine dresses and lights one dim lamp of an evening...