Word: strode
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...some of the rescued veterans of Bataan and Corregidor were lodged. "These are my own men and I am one of them," he said. "I owe them a lot. I promised I would return, and I'm long overdue. . . " Down through a double line of cots the General strode, pausing at bedside after bedside. Down the gaunt faces ran the unashamed tears of fighting men - now the wasted victims of malnutrition and dysentery. Said MacArthur: "I tried to get here as soon as I could. I'm going to give you all the medical attention you need...
...General strode inside. He poked through jammed corridors and rooms, grimly inspected the ravages of slow star vation. He talked with Dr. Theodore Stevenson. Presbyterian medical mission ary who had been the camp doctor. Dr. Stevenson had been jailed by the Japs be cause he refused to change death certifi cates on which he had boldly stated the contributing cause of death as "malnutrition." To BiIibid. As General MacArthur left Santo Tomas, maimed veterans hobbled toward him to salute, and some to touch his uniform. Women embraced him; one kissed him on the cheek. He went on to Bilibid. There...
...notes to knowledge. A party of prominent Westerners were sea riding the elevators at the Statler Saterdayday night yelling "Geronimo." It seem they have a better pickup than even them at Fargo. At last with a bewildered happy look, Neil Plantefaber, T. S. Smlty John White and Jim Rafferty strode of to meet Dave Schneider and Bob Weeks going up for some of the same. Weekend is the only man in the class beside Mr. Lindsay nursing a ski injury. He get his taking a suicide leap at Groton last week. Also at the Statler was the horn looking...
...Always, everywhere we went, there were refugees. Some strode with determined gait back to their little villages, hugging the mountainsides, their belongings on their backs. Others, little family clusters, carried tin-tubfuls of crockery, clothes and fine old tablecloths filled with ragged effects. One group we saw trying to cross the river at Marcourt were slipping and sliding down the broken wooden girders of the dynamited bridges into the icy water and wading across. In this family there was a girl of ten crying bitterly. She wore a thin red cotton sweater with a thin cotton dress underneath...
Refreshed by a couple of hours at the cinema, the barrel-chested, slightly bandylegged churchman rode home on a jam-packed London underground train. As he left the underground, he linked arms with his wife and strode rapidly toward the red-&-black Tudor buildings of Fulham Palace, his residence as Lord Bishop of London...