Word: regiment
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Sergeant Donald Lee of Her Majesty's famed Gloucestershire Regiment came home from prison camp in Korea to find his wife Maureen, 23, turned Communist. He had resisted Communist brainwashing for eleven months, but she had been convinced by studying pamphlets mailed her from Russia after her husband's capture, including "photographs of tortured women" and "proof" of U.S. warmongering. Said the sergeant: "Rubbish! I know the Americans. I was with them. They hate war as much...
Gibbet & Knot. Major André of the 54th Foot Regiment became the goat of the sorry affair. Handsome, cultivated, a poet-painter as well as adjutant general of the British Army in America, he was as eager for glory as Arnold. Let the American traitor turn over the fortress at West Point through André, and the young English major would be firmly set in his army career for life. Caught in civilian clothes at the very edge of success, tried and convicted as a spy, he gave the world a classic lesson in how a brave and debonair soldier...
TIME'S Sept. 7 review of Maugham's Choice of Kipling's Best leaves unclear the reason why the Indian member of a polo team visiting the officers of another regiment (in The Man Who Was) ". . . could not, of course, eat with the mess." This might lead some readers to infer that it was because of British insularity or snobbishness. The reason was that the Indian officer's caste might be broken if he ate with nonbelievers in his religion...
...Kinds of Guts. After the Allied landings in Normandy and southern France, Navarre got command of an armored regiment of Moroccan Spahis, as part of General de Lattre's Army of the Rhine and Danube. One day while Navarre, the assiduous information gatherer, was reconnoitering alone along a forest road in a jeep, he found himself looking down the burp-gun barrels of the German rearguard-about 40 men. Navarre, who speaks excellent German, barked out: "Drop your guns. You are surrounded. You are my prisoners. March down that road and surrender to my Moroccans." The bluff worked...
...backbone crawl as the bagpipes scream in the dawn light and a cavalry band, "shinin' an' spic like angils," adds the rattle of its "silver kettle-dhrums" to the shrieks of the wives and the terrible notes of the Dead March, sounding gruesomely from a regiment whose colonel has been killed...