Word: whispering
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...last the big day comes. Most of the able-bodied men and some of the young women crowd into war canoes and paddle stealthily up the Digoel River. They land at a prearranged point and are guided by scouts to the doomed village. That night the elders whisper incantations to make the attackers invisible, and to make their victims sleep deeply. Then the hunters creep close to the huts and wait for dawn...
When a Malayan Communist is shot by troops acting on information received from the public, the British say he was "killed by a whisper." One day last week a whisper reached the Suffolk Regiment's "B" Company that Communists were in the vicinity of Ulu Selangor. Next morning a party of three armed and uniformed male Communists and two women Communists walked into a British ambush on a hilltop rubber plantation. One woman, surprised, pulled a grenade from her blouse, flung it at the British and fled. British bullets brought down the others, among them Communist Commander Long...
...country against his will. He also despises the U.S. and Great Britain, on whom he places the major blame for his plight. He particularly hates Harry Truman and hopes that General Eisenhower will be elected and that he will change U.S. policy on the Israeli-Arab problem. The British whisper that Britain did everything it could to protect the Arabs against the U.S.'s mad determination to create the state of Israel. The burden of hate is shifting more & more to the Americans. And the U.S. does nothing to answer the accusations...
...Ghosts in olive drab and sky blue and German grey pass before our eyes; voices that have stolen away in the echoes from the battlefield no more ring out. The faint, far whisper of forgotten songs no longer floats through the air. Youth . . . strength . . . aspirations . . . struggles . . . triumphs . . . despairs . . . wide winds sweeping . . . beacons flashing across uncharted depths . . . movements . . . vividness . . . radiance . . . shadows . . . faint bugles sounding reveille ... far drums beating the long roll ... the crash of guns . . . the rattle of musketry ... the still white crosses . . . And now we are met to remember...
...aboard the U.S.S. Midway, anchored off the French Riviera. One by one, 16 bluejackets disappeared into a storage room below the carrier deck for a little forbidden pleasure. There they got out their bankrolls, settled to their knees. The soft clack of dice and the whisper of plaintive invocations went on all night until the kitty reached some $3,000. Then the door opened, and three more bluejackets pushed in. But these were different: hoods masked their faces, they whispered commands, and they waved pistols. The crapshooters were ordered to stand facing the bulkheads. The three swept...