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W. Earl Hall correspondence, 1940-1945
1944-11-15 Capt. Harrison D. Kohl to Mr. W. Earl Hall Page 2
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They DO need pads and crash helmets By Vivien Batchelor Sixty thousand Americans and their girls swarmed into the White City Stadium, Shperd's Bush, yesterday to see the U.S. Army v. the U.S. Navy in what General Doolittle described during the interval as a "real old-fashioned American football game." Girl cheer leaders from the services pranced in front of the crowd waving megaphones, inciting yells like "A-R-M-Y, Army," or "N-A-V-Y, Navy." Meanwhile a free fight seemd to be going on in the centre of the stadium. Twenty-two enormous young men in crash helmets were locked in deadly struggle for an oval football. They wore spiked - cleated is the word the Americans use - shoes, strange ginger shorts which cling closely to the thighs and end abruptly just below the knee, and padded jerseys. They needed those pads. And the crash helmets. The object of the game seems to be to pass the ball to some unfortunate player, and then for everyone else to fall on him. The only thing that moves play towards the goalposts seems to be the instinct of the self preservation of the man with the ball, He runs as far as he can before he is maimed or killed by other players. The programme seemed sinister. It gave the names of the 11 men of each team, It then gave a list of 15 "substitutes" for each team. The "substitutes" did not have long to wait for their call to battle. First Blood. First casualty went to the Navy. Horriefied, I watched a G.I. scamper across the field with two buckets in his hands. But not, as I though to mop up the blood. The buckets had towels and water for the players still living.
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They DO need pads and crash helmets By Vivien Batchelor Sixty thousand Americans and their girls swarmed into the White City Stadium, Shperd's Bush, yesterday to see the U.S. Army v. the U.S. Navy in what General Doolittle described during the interval as a "real old-fashioned American football game." Girl cheer leaders from the services pranced in front of the crowd waving megaphones, inciting yells like "A-R-M-Y, Army," or "N-A-V-Y, Navy." Meanwhile a free fight seemd to be going on in the centre of the stadium. Twenty-two enormous young men in crash helmets were locked in deadly struggle for an oval football. They wore spiked - cleated is the word the Americans use - shoes, strange ginger shorts which cling closely to the thighs and end abruptly just below the knee, and padded jerseys. They needed those pads. And the crash helmets. The object of the game seems to be to pass the ball to some unfortunate player, and then for everyone else to fall on him. The only thing that moves play towards the goalposts seems to be the instinct of the self preservation of the man with the ball, He runs as far as he can before he is maimed or killed by other players. The programme seemed sinister. It gave the names of the 11 men of each team, It then gave a list of 15 "substitutes" for each team. The "substitutes" did not have long to wait for their call to battle. First Blood. First casualty went to the Navy. Horriefied, I watched a G.I. scamper across the field with two buckets in his hands. But not, as I though to mop up the blood. The buckets had towels and water for the players still living.
World War II Diaries and Letters
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