Word: patton
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...takes so little to set Sprinter Mel Patton's delicate nerves to jangling that he never reads the sport pages before a race. But he could not help knowing that the East had a challenger for his championship, a lanky Negro lad named Andy Stanfield, from Seton Hall College (N.J.). The night before the N.C.A.A. championships, Patton's wife artfully kept his mind off the race. He didn't begin to work himself into a state-in which his placid disposition turns sour and he fails to recognize his best friends-until just before...
...When Patton got on the blocks for the 100-yard final, athletes from 75 colleges paused to watch the great sprinter run his last hundred for the University of Southern California. At the gun, Patton uncoiled like a spring, his long, slender legs pumping, with Stanfield right beside him in an adjoining lane. In the last 20 yards, Patton pulled away enough to win by a yard in 9.7 (slow time compared to the world record 9.3 he hung up last year at Fresno, Calif...
...Patton and Stanfield again ran like a team to the halfway mark, where Patton went into his relaxed "float" and won by two strides in 20.4 (equaling Ralph Metcalfe's 16-year-old N.C.A.A. record). Said Stanfield afterwards: "I figured I'd stay with him, then coast . . . then I had to run like hell to catch up as close as I did." Patton, the tension over, was out of sight as usual, racked and retching with violent nausea. With the help of his two victories, U.S.C. breezed off with the team championship. The score: Southern...
Doughboy Colonel. James Van Fleet has little knack for the soldier-statesmanship of an Eisenhower or a MacArthur. He is first and foremost a combat soldier who has thoroughly learned his trade. In World War II, under the incomparable George Patton, he learned the value of speed, surprise, audacity. In his imposing collection of medals the one he likes best is the Combat Infantryman's Badge...
Chiefly, this is the story of how spare, fox-faced Martinet Montgomery chased Desert Fox Rommel's famed Afrika Korps 1,850 miles, from the gates of Alexandria into Tunisia. In his writing, as in battle, Monty has neither Eisenhower's scope nor Patton's dash and saltiness. Readers who want the smell and smoke of battle will not get it here. But El Alamein should appeal to chess players. Every move of every battle is explained with the logic, the patience and the bland assurance of an instructor demonstrating a foolproof system. Writes Monty: "I have...