Word: tunic
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Jeeze, there was a lot of stuff flying around. I got on another landing boat, but it sunk in a few minutes. I swam out to this boat, kicking off my tunic, and caught hold of a rope. There was a guy hanging to each of my legs and I couldn't move. I was pretty goofy myself by then. The Jerries were firing at us from the top of the cliff and lots of the fellows were getting wounded all over again...
There, where France's shame had been twice compounded-in 1870 when Napoleon III surrendered to Moltke, in 1940 when Rundstedt's army poured through a gaping rent in Corap's line-Rundstedt sits with his staff. On the breast of his tunic gleam bright ribbons won in that and many another triumph-Poland, Russia, the Lowlands-and from his high collar dangles the Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross. But Gerd von Rundstedt has little time for dreams of past glories...
...only four other soldiers-and Stalin-rank with him or above him in the Red Army scale. Between the cap of an officer and the starred, medaled tunic of a Marshal, his face is still a peasant's face. It is heavy, broad and brooding, cruel and kind, the face of Soviet Russia and the Red Army. In his face, in the whole person and history of Timoshenko, are the qualities by which Soviet Russia must now live...
...great Billy Mitchell were still alive, his answer would be "yes." But Billy Mitchell is dead, with his rank posthumously upped and most of his prophecies as bright as the multi-colored ribbons that swatched the breast of his tunic. But except for a few civilian followers such as "Sascha" Seversky and Al Williams, his disciples are mute. Even at this stage of World War II, it is not politic for men in uniform to make predictions...
...wore a pair of brown tights, as did all the supers (male), a green cloth headress of the Easter fashions of 3478 B. C., and a brilliant red tunic. I termed my group the Red soldiers. Harry was a soldier in what I called the Rainbow Division, evidently founded by the color-loving Joseph during his stay with the Pharaohs. His tunic was a thing of radiant beauty if viewed from after, and his helmet shimmered in the African glare of the kleig lights. Bung was a nobody, a gray sort of individual with no color...