Word: thighed
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...squelching sound"; a ward, where he observes a woman choke to death of slow asphyxia, and hears from the puffed lips of a badly burned man "the most piercing shrieks that suffering can ever have brought forth"; an operating room, where he watches a leg being amputated at the thigh as a little surgical saw bites splinters off the bone and the limb breaks away with "a dry snapping noise...
British sportswriters made remarkably uncricket exhibitions of themselves. Wrote the Daily Mirror's Peter Wilson: "We took them by the throat and scruff . . . We took them neck and crop, bag and baggage, hip and thigh, skin and bone, and we bundled them out . . ." Retorted an Aussie writer: "No trumpets yet, England...
...Deane and the other G.I.s crawled to the nearest house. Of the seven men already there, two were dead. One after the other, three more were killed as Communist fire poured in. Deane dashed out to get a jeep started, got a bullet in his hand, four in his thigh. When the Communists charged and captured the house, their first act was to shoot the wounded G.I.s who could not stand. Then the survivors were stripped, kicked, beaten and marched off. At each village, they were turned over to the civilians to be beaten further. The heat and thirst became...
...broke loose one day. Shouting that he heard "the organs playing in Hell," he began to crush the others in gigantic bear hugs. A little later he blacked Coselli's eye, bit Bébert's thigh, stamped on a watch and swallowed some of the shattered glass. When the guards subdued him he took the calming injections with gloomy dignity...
Early in January, in Caracas, a bull drove a horn into Dominguín's upper right thigh, almost severing the big muscle in front of the bone. The wound, his eighth and worst, required an operation, performed in Mexico. Last week, still convalescing, he prepared to open the season in Bogotá. Over breakfast with a few friends, he mused, "I once loved bullfighting like madness. Now I've lost the joy of fighting. That's when fatal things happen. Today I'll make twelve, thirteen, fourteen thousand dollars-but it doesn't seem...