Word: mudding
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CUBA Stuck in the Mud For five days last week the Cuban government kept officially mum while high-ranking members of the regime leaked to the press that 11,000 army troops, with artillery, mortars and bombing planes, were in an all-out drive to flush Fidel Castro from his mountain fastness in the Sierra Maestra. "This is the real thing," they said...
...firmed-up leadership lately shown by President Eisenhower. Partly it was the voice of the people: during their Easter recess (TIME, April 21) members of Congress heard unexpected grass-roots sentiments that many a Democratic state Governor had already detected, e.g., wariness toward tax cuts, disgust at the mud dredged up by the McClellan committee's labor investigation, widespread if reluctant acceptance of foreign aid as a cold-war necessity...
...Wall (TIME, March 16, 1953), the brutally beautiful French novel about Indo-China on which this film is based. "They were a kind of calamity . . . They came each year, by periodical tides, by crops. They were everywhere, perched in the trees, on the backs of buffaloes . . . in the mud, looking for the dwarf crabs of the rice fields, [and] they were always followed by packs of stray dogs, whose . . . main nourishment was their excrement . . . They died in such numbers that they were no longer mourned . . . They simply returned to the earth like wild mangoes falling. They died of cholera . . . Some...
...test of men as machines. Dried out by the desert, the travelers drank the oily water from their radiators to keep alive. They used blowtorches to heat their meals when they could not bear using camel dung as fuel. Bridges collapsed under them, their cars sank hub deep in mud or sand, brakes gave way and the cars slid down steep, rocky hillsides. The Tri-Contal gave up its tiny ghost, but the other four somehow made it to the Siberian border...
Illusions of future ease were shortlived. Only madmen, the motorists soon discovered, tried to drive into Russia that summer. In Russia, what roads they found were rivers of mud; what rivers they came to were all but impassable. The hotels were primitive pestholes, thriving with insect life and always located next to the sleep-shattering din of a dance hall. They rolled into Moscow in four battered heaps, so filthy that the cheering crowds at their reception hardly recognized them as the heroes of the occasion...