Word: proietti
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...brutality. But when Sergeant McCuistion asked the judge to question one of the witnesses more closely on timing, the judge coolly remarked: "Well, who would think of marking down the date anyway." Nor did the court make any attempt to call another of the arrested Americans, Staff Sergeant Joseph Proietti, who did not claim to have been beaten himself but who last week wrote to his brother in New York...
This was not the opinion of Sergeant Proietti. Wrote he: "Did you know that since our apprehension until now, the Turkish police broke the [NATO Status of Forces Agreement] on 7 different occasions, excluding the beatings. What makes me sick is that our government is accepting it without an argument...
...incommunicado, Turkish police picked up U.S. Air Force Sergeant Giacomo Recevuto, of Brooklyn. And that afternoon Izmir Police Chief Nevzat Emrealp informed NATO authorities that he wanted to have "a little talk" about currency black-marketing with two other U.S. sergeants, James D. King of Ruth, Miss, and Joseph Proietti of Mt. Kisco, N.Y. Emrealp did not mention that his men had already extracted from the Turkish manager of the NATO noncoms' club in Izmir a confession implicating King-a confession subsequently repudiated by the club manager, who, as a result of his "questioning," was still in the hospital...
Even the Boy Scouts. When Vittorio announced his scheme in the tiny local headquarters of the Saragat Socialists, Comrade Vittorio Proietti almost banged his head on a low-hanging lamp as he jumped up to embrace Vittorio. Twice he embraced him, crying: "Comrade Excellency, Comrade Excellency, we shall win over to Socialism all of Arsoli's youth." Then an idea struck Proietti; he burst into long peals of laughter: "Why, we may even get Catholic Boy Scouts to turn Socialist...
Some Romans laughed at this old joke last week. But buxom, 19-year-old Annamarie Proietti was too angry to smile. Annamarie is a waitress from Rome's Communist-filled slums who last week slipped off to swarming, breezy Ostia for an afternoon on the beach with her boy friend Mario. "We were lying there in the sun talking," she told a reporter later, "when somebody tapped me on the shoulder and said, 'Where do you think you are -in your bedroom?' There, leaning over us, was an ugly, sweating flatfoot with a big mustache. 'Beat...
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