Word: arctic
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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From Los Angeles' International Airport one morning last week, a Scandinavian Airlines DC-6B roared up through the smog and headed north. Its destination: Copenhagen, via the Arctic. To trim roughly 650 miles off the regular California-Europe flight distance, the four-engine plane, with 13 crewmen and 22 passengers aboard, was going to fly where no commercial carrier had ever flown. That afternoon the plane stopped at Edmonton, Alta. After touching down early next morning at the big U.S. Air Force base at Thule, Greenland-a scant 900 miles from the North Pole-the plane was soon airborne...
...battalion of Marines is afloat in the Mediterranean, ready for any fire alarm. A battalion of Marines has just completed Arctic exercises in Labrador-for no one knows where Marines might go next. Besides the First Division in Korea, the corps has two trained divisions, each with its air arm, waiting stateside for trouble-the Second at Camp Lejeune, N.C., the Third at Camp Pendleton (see color pages), Calif. Boot camps at Parris Island, S.C. and San Diego are hup-reeping steadily away at rebuilding civilian youths to the sunburned, stiff-backed Marine mold, and pumping them into the service...
...rose over the spruce-covered Newfoundland hills one morning last week, the tiny (34-ton) whaler Arctic Skipper put out from the weathered jetty at Dildo and chuffed at a steady six knots down Trinity Bay. Deck hands were just finishing their breakfast of fried eggs, sausage and coffee in the tiny galley when a lookout cried: "Pothead!"† Captain Iver Iversen rang the engine signal. As the Skipper picked up speed, the whales sounded. When they came up again, they were heading out to sea, and a deck hand fired a rifle shot to turn them. A red signal...
...haphazard venture until Norwegian Captain Iversen settled near Dildo in 1946 and opened a factory to render blubber and process the greasy meat prized by mink ranchers for the gloss it gives to the animal fur. To increase the whale catch, he raised money for the Arctic Skipper and a sister ship, Arctic Venture, to go farther out into the bay and herd more potheads shoreward...
...businessmen the world over, the products of National Cash Register Co. are as familiar as Coca-Cola. National machines tot up their bills, figure the payrolls, keep charge accounts straight. They are operated by Eskimos in the Arctic Circle, by Fuzzy-wuzzies in Africa; they are packed by llamas in the Andes, by camel cart in Pakistan. And the machines ring up sales in shillings, drachmas, piasters, kroner, yen, francs and even Russian kopecks...