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Updated: June 9, 2025
Lively!" shouted the corporal waddling about importantly on his bandy legs. He kept looking down the row of barracks, muttering to himself, "Goddam.... Time fur inspectin' now, goddam. Won't never pass this time." His face froze suddenly into obsequious immobility. He brought his hand up to the brim of his hat. A group of officers strode past him into the nearest building.
“I vent to ze Park,” said the Baron, with a solemn deliberation that evidently came hardly to him. “I entered ze Park. I vas dressed, as you know, viz taste and appropriety. I vas sober, as you know. I valked under ze trees, and I looked agreeably at ze people. Goddam!” “My dear Baron!” expostulated Mr Bunker. The Baron resumed his intense composure with a great effort.
A feller can't eat his bile day after day, day after day." "I'm afraid he can, Hoggenback," broke in Andrews. They walked towards the barracks. "Goddam it, no," cried Hoggenback aloud. "There comes a point where you can't eat yer bile any more, where it don't do no good to cuss. Then you runs amuck." Hanging his head he went slowly into the barracks.
The chief dispatcher looked at him steadily a long moment before answering. "I imagine you will find people of various shades all over town, including those allegedly white. Was there anyone in particular you were interested in or are you solely concerned with pigmentation?" "Why, you goddam " I thought it advisable to prevent a possible altercation.
"They're juss like you an me, skeered to death they'll get in wrong, but they won't light on a feller unless they have to." "That's a goddam lie," cried Chrisfield. "They like ridin' yer. A doughboy's less'n a dawg to 'em. Ah'd shoot anyone of 'em lake Ah'd shoot a nigger." Andrews was watching Chrisfield's face; it suddenly flushed red. He was silent abruptly.
It was a large square head with closely cropped light hair and porcelain-blue eyes under lids that showed white in the red sunburned face, and a square jaw made a little grey by the sprouting beard. "Say, Andy, how the hell long have we all been in this goddam train?... Ah've done lost track o' the time...." "What's the matter; are you gettin' old, Chris?" asked Judkins laughing.
He's a goddam yeller dawg." Chrisfield swore sullenly. "Well, you juss wait 'n see. I tell you, buddy, war ain't no picnic." "What the hell are we goin' to do with that chicken?" said Judkins. "You remember what happened to Eddie White?" "Hell, we'd better leave it here." Judkins swung the chicken by its neck round his head and threw it as hard as he could into the bushes.
Another proof that he was a native of the universal country was apparent in the fact of his knowing no other Italian words than the terms used in music, and which like the "goddam" of Figaro, served all possible linguistic requirements. "Allegro!" he called out to the postilions at every ascent. "Moderato!" he cried as they descended.
The "Y" man, who had been roaming among the bathers, his neat uniform and well- polished boots and puttees contrasting strangely with the mud- clotted, sweat-soaked clothing of the men about him, sat down on the grass beside Andrews. "You're goddam right I do." "You'll get into trouble, my boy, if you talk that way," said the "Y" man in a cautious voice.
My husband went up a hill, Yerad, just behind Naab, with an old Arab fort on it above the Yeramis, which ends here; then begins Wadi Reban, with a clear course north-east for three miles, then north, and then a long stretch east again. There was a lovely view over the Yafei mountains on the north and Goddam range on the south. A Bedou, Abdallah, who went with him told him all the names.
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