Wartime setting

Usage examples of foxhole.

Hall, Foxholes, Bearwood, the Vicarage of Mosely, and their outlying acquaintances, their yeomen and their labourers, lived as old-fashioned and hearty a life as if the battle of Sedgemoor had never been fought.

Scout dogs would be trained to scout in front of the infantry in advances and on patrols, guard prisoners, provide night security in foxholes and outposts, and enter caves and pillboxes to determine whether enemy was present.

I would have foxholes dug just below the crest, and if the Japanese tried to sneak in on us, the dogs would let us know before they got to the fence.

There is nothing to do during the day except sit in the sandbagged foxholes and gaze out at the rice paddies and the mountains beyond.

He would let the dug-in grenadiers absorb the first blows of the T-34S, have them slow the Soviet charge with anti-tank fire, perhaps some of the more intrepid soldiers might hop out of their foxholes and board a few Red tanks with magnetic mines and grenades.

Two tanks were clanking down the hill, men were running for the foxholes at the base of the hill, wisps of smoke were rising from a far tree line.

Their life was the camps, foxholes, sandbags, bunkers, hooches, tents, jungles, swamps, rice paddies, snakes, rats, and even tigers.

Their clothing was so covered with dirt, they looked like they were part of the dirt because they had been living in the dirt, living in foxholes for three days.

The first place or two we went, we just circled the wagons, dug foxholes, and waited.

Skulls were set on the edges of foxholes, facing outward, a circle of grinning death-heads stark white against the upturned earth.

But all the actors were in costume -uniforms - sleeping in foxholes and eating rations.

Through his glasses Anderson saw the group, well out of range of his own anti-tank bazookas, firing methodically into the American foxholes.

But it were nearly worse than the foxholes, account of one of the bombs has hit the latrine an blowed up about five hundrit pounds of officer shit all over the area.

In literature, we are shown a line-up of murderers, dipsomaniacs, drug addicts, neurotics and psychotics as representatives of man’s soul—and are invited to identify our own among them—with the belligerent assertions that life is a sewer, a foxhole or a rat race, with the whining injunctions that we must love everything, except virtue, and forgive everything, except greatness.

We trudged up to the line and back again, patrolled the booby-trapped trails, dug foxholes and redug them when they were collapsed by the rain.