Word: mud
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...forces when an American attack became imminent. But local feuds got in the way; Mansoor led his troops into the mountains, where they had already made preparations. Wardak says that in the tiny villages that cling to the slopes, al-Qaeda fighters had been buying the houses with mud walls, like miniature medieval fortresses. "Those who didn't want to sell," Wardak told TIME, "were asked to leave." Some al-Qaeda fighters hunkered down; high above the valley floor, others headed for the caves that Mansoor's father had dug 20 years...
...muddy, rutted road. Sabur was in the back of a brightly colored pickup; two Americans sat in the cabin, and another team of special forces followed them. As the truck splashed around a muddy bend, Sabur told TIME, "al-Qaeda opened fire on us with something big." In a mud-brick hut was hidden an antiaircraft gun or mortar. Munitions ripped through the cabin. Sabur took shrapnel in his leg. The convoy returned fire and called in air support. Three helicopters thundered up the canyon, blasting away at enemy positions. A few days later, another Afghan from the convoy showed...
There is a saying: those who cannot lose will never win. Gold medals cannot be covered with mud, no matter how hard somebody tries to dirty them. And silver medals don't turn into gold, no matter what somebody tries. The Canadian pair surely understand that they got their consolation medals just to calm down the crowd. OLGA IVANOVA Novosibirsk, Russia...
...micro paradise. Probas, as we later found out he was called, brought us to his father, a fisherman named Makhan. We negotiated a price for the trip?a couple of dollars?and the two of them led us through the fields into a mangrove swamp. Our feet sank into mud so black and thick it seemed they would never come back out. But Probas guided our steps and eventually, about 400 m from the shore, we found the boat...
...living, fiddling proof of that maxim. True, it hasn’t been easy to overcome my anti-Garth bigotry; indeed, the first time my freshman year roommate blasted “Rodeo” (It’s bulls and blood / it’s dust and mud / it’s the roar of a Sunday crowd) in our cramped dorm room, I felt every snobbish joint in my body stiffen, and I slipped on my headphones and pumped up Radiohead, or something similarly trendy...