olive drab
olive-drab uniform

For the most part, these men and women are frightened by the sight of an armed I.N.S. official in an olive-drab uniform.

Three large men in olive-drab uniforms stepped in.

Around him were grouped numbers of his officers, some in the olive-drab uniforms of the citizen soldiers and others in the red and blue of the Foreign Legion.

The first was a short, blocky man who filled a simple olive-drab uniform with muscle.

His olive-drab uniform was mottled with blood, and each crease of his face was a pocket of grime.

The undersized messenger, he looked about twelve but must have been older, in the olive-drab uniform, sitting dangling his legs from a bench over at the side, waiting for the next message to go out.

The Luger, in its pillowcase, was at the bottom of the trunk, beneath the musty-smelling olive-drab uniform, its clip lying beside it, no longer concealed in that long-ago sock.

A few days later he surfaced at his father's Kensington home, hair cut to the scalp, dressed in an olive-drab uniform.

He wore a plain olive-drab uniform, only the insignia of his rank on his shoulders, no medal ribbons.

The 57-year-old Mr. Savimbi, who carried a walking stick with a white handle, left the jetliner last, wearing an olive-drab uniform and maroon beret adorned with four general's stars.