Word: pistoling
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...more & more disturbed by the way the German people began to look at him. He took to packing two .45s, remarked loudly, "If some German thinks he wants to get me, he better make sure he does it with his first shot, because I was raised with a pistol in my hand." Once, just after chow in an Army mess, he turned violently ill, was certain the German cooks had poisoned him. He was delighted when the Army returned him to the U.S., felt better still last March when it shipped him half a world away from Germany, to duty...
Shotgun v. Pistol. Walton Walker is not a colorful prima donna, or an affable diplomat, or a profound strategist, or an egoist with a flair for drama. Military historians will probably not quarrel lengthily over his capabilities; psychologists will not find him an enigma. In World War II he fought as Patton wanted him to; in Korea, he will fight as MacArthur wants him to-however much retreats and holding actions may go against his grain. If ordered to hold, he will stand and fight to the last man, including Walton Walker. He is, in every sense of the phrase...
...blotted out the stars, the Mansfield cautiously worked in toward shore. On the destroyer's quarterdeck ten men-four marines, four bluejackets and two officers-checked their weapons and adjusted packs crammed with TNT. Some carried Tommy guns, others carbines. Each man had a knife dangling on his pistol belt. A few wore sneakers. The men shifted their feet uneasily as they watched a small whaleboat being lowered into the water...
...Coogan's Bluff, 14-year-old Robert Peebles had climbed onto the roof of his dirty yellow apartment house, raised his .45 pistol and fired it, for the fun of it, into the air. His bullet looped swiftly over the Polo Grounds, sped toward Seat 3, Row C, Section 42. Just as Barney Doyle, his score card in hand, turned to speak to young Otto Flaig, the bullet smashed into Doyle's left temple, sank into his brain and stayed there. Doyle, suddenly bleeding, slumped forward...
Author Gilpatric, whose long series of Saturday. Evening Post short stories about the walrus-mustached, Scotch-drinking Mr. Glencannon have entertained U.S. readers for more than two decades, learned from the doctor that the tumor was malignant. Then, police said, he got out a .32-caliber pistol, shot and killed her, then killed himself...