Word: armchairs
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...potatoes and coffee. As I walked out, I became aware that we were guests. The family whose house the troop had taken was seated in a thickly walled and ceilinged room on the ground level. A young girl, perhaps 15, sat perfectly still and rigid, stretched out in an armchair. As I stepped across her legs, she did not move or speak. All her words were in her shocked eyes. The rest of the family-Papa, who had put his savings into this farm, Mama, a scraggly woman who was calmly assembling the dejeuner, a leggy...
...began. And there are other frontline correspondents back home-to make sure the news of these last terrific months has the on-the-spot sound and smell and feel that made another magazine call one recent TIME story "about as near as you can get, in an armchair, to being in the midst of battle...
This is Charles Wertenbaker who, as Senior Editor of TIME, was for many months in charge of all TIME'S news-reporting on the war and foreign news. No armchair editor, he spent four months at the front in Tunisia, followed our armies to Gafsa, Maknassy, El Guettar and almost to Mateur. He will be top man on the actual invasion team...
...frontline battle I have yet seen in print." Joseph Henry Jackson of the San Francisco Chronicle found it "one of the most truthful accounts of action in this war-and one of the most vivid pieces of writing on record." "About as near as you can get, in an armchair, to being in the midst of battle," said The Nation. And Foster Hailey wrote in the New York Times that Tarawa is "a superlative job of reporting, obviously written at white heat while the sounds of Betio still rang in Sherrod's ears and the smell of it still...
About 8:30 the Molotovs began to receive in one of the large palace rooms under a glittering crystal chandelier. It looked like the last act of Ziegfeld's Rosalie-wave after wave of bedecked diplomats, armchair generals, bathtub admirals from every civilized country and Japan. The Japs arrived in a protective wedge, their runt-sized correspondents flanked by a beefy general, their dapper ambassador overshadowed by a flashy admiral. They all smiled and you kept thinking of Mr. Moto...