Word: pack
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Wagging Tail. A Russian proverb says that if you run with the pack, it is necessary not only to bark but to wag your tail. Andrei Yanuarevich set out to be a tailwagger extraordinary. Tirelessly he lectured and wrote about the "magnificent and profoundly true words" of contemporary Bolshevik leaders. A functionary in the Moscow Law School (though the record later dignified his jobs with grandiose titles), he was detested by the Old Bolshevik jurists. "I cannot stomach him," said Appellate Judge Galkin. "That man is simply a disgusting careerist." In the university he got to know a plump young...
...despairs as of its dubious ecstasies. And frequently this solitude was creative. From it some times came the dreams, the hopes and the soaring aims that charged life henceforward with meaning and contributed to giving us our poets, artists, scientists . . . But youth today has abandoned solitude in favor of pack-running, of predatory assembly, of great collectivities that bury, if they do not destroy, individuality. Into these mindless associations the young flock like cattle. The fee they pay for initiation is abandonment of self and im mersion in the herd . . . This innovation can yield no social gain...
...Britain's Colonial Secretary Oliver Lyttelton tactlessly suggested that peaceful Uganda be joined with Tanganyika and Mau Mau-ridden Kenya in a big East African Federation. The Kabaka, reflecting his people's outrage, began plumping instead for complete independence for his kingdom. The British reply was to pack him posthaste aboard a plane and, without giving him a chance even to say goodbye to his wife and child, to whisk him into exile in London. The Kabaka's exile, said Minister Lyttelton, was "final...
Brasshat Without Brass. In 1944 the fading Goring relieved his fighter chief. In 1945, Galland wangled command of an elite ME 262 outfit known, because of the pack of aces he collected for it, as the "Squadron of Experts." The big picture thereupon dissolved to the gun-sight view. With the oldtime exhilaration, ex-Brasshat Galland blew up two U.S. Marauders. Then "a hail of fire enveloped me. A Mustang had caught me napping. A sharp rap hit my right knee. The instrument panel . . . was shattered. The right engine was also hit. Its metal covering worked loose . . . and was partly...
...These experiences come down to one thing: rape. Singly and in groups, the Russians prowled through the rubble-strewn city in search of women. After being raped four times in two days, the anonymous author of the diary decided to find a strong wolf to protect her from the pack. Protection came at the customary price, first from a lieutenant, then from a major (of whom she eventually became quite fond). When the savage wave of rape ended and women met to talk, the first question was not "What happened?" but "How often?" Intent throughout on survival, the blonde diarist...