Word: bolted
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...Picture. No great shakes as literature, the novel had been dropped on the floor by most literary critics as soon as it dropped in their laps. They thought its love story a bore, its history sectional, its length pretentious, its writing as drab as a bolt of butternut shoddy. The destruction of the South's civilization in the War between the States, told as the case history of two plantation families, the red-blooded O'Haras and the blue-blooded Wilkeses, had been better told before. The overlapping loves of Scarlett O'Hara for Ashley Wilkes, Rhett...
...audience, among the mink-coated sponsors, there were still some stormy echoes. President Mrs. Royden Keith, who had got Solomon his job, had resigned ("like a bolt from the blue," cooed her co-directors. "Perhaps she felt that the Board was not in sympathy with her policies"). So ex-President Keith had to sit downstairs in an ordinary orchestra seat, while platinum-blonde Acting-President Mrs. James George Shakman (whose Pabst Brewery money helps feed the orchestra's kitty) basked in a box. Beamed she: "We are all working in perfect harmony. . . . The girls are such fine musicians, they...
...anticlerical a Government as ever hated & feared the Pope. French lawmakers bundled up their prejudices in a Laic Law which, among other things, required State authorization for religious orders. When France went to war in 1914, thousands of members of secret, mufti-wearing orders emerged from their bolt-holes to serve la patrie. The number of aumôniers (chaplains) in the French forces was limited-400 in the army, 50 in the navy, none in the air force. Most priests were assigned to noncombatant duties. A few had anticlerical officers who forced them to fight. A few more fathers...
...snarling, lying dead-beat on a hillside. In a week, with new replacements and an issue of old Russian Imperial Army rifles, they had to slog back into the line, still dopey with fatigue. "You fired till the rifle got too hot to handle; then you opened the bolt and blew down the barrel and let it cool, resting your face on your extended arm, waiting. You got so you were afraid to lift your head again to fire. . . . And then you suddenly awoke to the fact that you had been asleep in the line itself...
...coolies heaping into trucks corpses like flopping fish; bodies with faces blown away bobbing down muddy Soochow Creek; mangled flesh being shoveled out of shell-shattered ruins. Unforgettable were the despairing faces of old Spanish women. Most unforgettable of all: a blood-covered, four-year-old Chinese child, sitting bolt upright like a doll on a deserted railway platform, behind him the charred beams of the station...