Word: les
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...level pasture. It was a hard, pancake-type landing. The front strut came through the wooden floor of the glider and ripped toward the rear, barely missing the legs of some of the troops. We had landed a hundred yards from the personnel-assembly point at the crossroads of Les Forges. It was early evening, and we had about four hours before dark. After a quick check of the surrounding area, I selected a large field adjacent to the Les Forges crossroads as the first work site. Four dead paratroopers already lay in the corner by the crossroads...
...Form No. 1. Both identification tags were left with the body until it was ready to be placed into a grave. One tag stayed with the body after burial, and the other was attached to the stake that served as a grave marker. Today a small monument at the Les Forges crossroads marks the cemetery location and records that 6,000 Allied troops from the Normandy invasion were buried there. Later, the bodies were moved to permanent cemeteries in Normandy or sent back to the U.S. for burial...
...their babies feel? A baby can take an active part in birth when labor starts naturally. Of course, pain relief and Csections are useful and necessary in some cases. I am firmly in favor of providing women with more information about all aspects of labor and delivery. ANNE MARENGHI Les Breviaires, France...
When the Chinese basketball star arrived in America in October 2002, Houston Rockets owner Les Alexander said, "This is the biggest individual sports story of all time. Mark my words: in two or three years, he'll be bigger than Tiger Woods or Michael Jordan." Everybody laughed. But no more. Not only has the Rockets' 7-ft. 5-in. center changed the landscape of the National Basketball Association with his size and shooting touch, but his team-first attitude and self-deprecating humor have blown through the league like a gust of fresh air, reinvigorating a sport grown weary...
...what happened in my childhood, there being fewer and fewer people left who remember it, and with siblings, your minds meld and you piece together the story of the big Keillor family meeting at our house in 1947--no need for footnotes or apology, you just sit down in Les Deux Magots cafe and hash it out, as French people of great elegance and purposefulness stride past, one of whom reminds you of your dad, a gray fedora on his head, smiling at the Revere movie camera as yellow streetcars rumble down Bloomington Avenue in 1953, and we children perk...