Word: trooped
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...Plebeian Rommel had no place in the skeleton post-war Reichswehr, and his frustrated longing for war turned him very early to the Nazis. He met Hitler in Württemberg, became a Storm Troop leader, joined a murderous raid against the Socialists and Communists of Coburg, a raid which Hitler, in Mein Kampf, singled out as the turning point in his career. Thereafter Rommel headed Hitler's personal police, the SS, and traveled with the leader and his adjutant, Bruckner, sharing with Bruckner the honor of sleeping in front of Hitler's bedroom door. When Hitler shook...
...wants to go somewhere for the Fourth of July weekend, no railroadman dares to think of the mess. And they all dread the effect on their future business, since it would underline the popular misconception that the roads cannot handle their normal passenger load on top of the gargantuan troop movements (2,500,000 troops in sleepers alone in five months) they have to handle first...
...barring troop movements on a hitherto unheard-of scale, there is still no evidence that travel by rail must be limited to essential trips. Most railroaders agree with the harried Union Pacific official who held his head last week and groaned: "Our dispatchers are collecting the damnedest set of ulcers you ever saw . . . but the only thing we have had to do is to tell some of these guys that, if they don't mind an upper, they can have it now. That's all it has really meant-changing the habits of the way people travel...
...nice middle-aged woman and her two daughters." It was three miles from an airport where some of the R.A.F. night fighters were stationed. One "lad named Terry, who was like a character out of a book" described just what he would of do to Nazi troop planes if they ever tried to invade England...
...would pick out the biggest and the fattest troop-carrying aircraft. . . . Then I would call to my gunner, 'Tallyhoo, Andy,' and ... I would see our bullets cross-stitch the fat troop-carrying aircraft up and down, back and forth. . . . Then I would wait for the blood to come out of the holes made by our bullets. That's what I'd do, by God, that's what I'd do. Then . . . you know what I'd do? I'd give the motor everything it had, and I'd ram the Goddamn...