Word: bombs
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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Purposeful, he tore through the gale at 100 miles an hour?finally sighting and circling over Ocotal. "Click" went the small, simple mechanism of his bomb release. Far below, masses of men became suddenly red, formless and conglomerate. Within half an hour a flock of black vultures were coasting down through the hot, cruel...
...once aroused. The stranger, grey-haired, straggly mustached, clad in an undistinguished business suit, pattered the length of several corridors, set his bag down, mopped his face. The Swiss detective, with catlike caution, flattened himself against the wall, watched the stranger closely for signs that his bag contained a bomb. Just then a member of the U. S. delegation appeared, shook warmly the hand of the mysterious stranger, William H. Moran, who is, as everyone knows, Chief of the U. S. Secret Service. He was present in Geneva last week to attend the International Conference to Combat Counterfeiting...
...carried a revolver charged with poisoned dumdum bullets and also a hand grenade which I had saved from the War. I intended either to shoot Mussolini or to bomb him, whichever seemed surest of success. ... I told none of my friends. I had no accomplices. I just threw the bomb. I knew that if it killed Mussolini I should be killed. ... I am sorry the bomb only wounded a lot of men in the street. . . . My temperament has always been profoundly misogynistic [woman-hating...
Such were words spoken at Rome last week by Gino Lucetti, a youth whose bomb glanced harmlessly off the limousine of Signor Benito Mussolini (TIME, Sept. 20), as the Premier was motoring slowly toward his office in the Palazzo Chigi, Rome. Signer Lucetti, some six feet tall, but with refined, sensitive features, confessed last week in a detached monotone. Spectators noted that he had thrust sockless feet into a pair of battered shoes, wore unpressed duck trousers, a collarless shirt, a saggy coat...
...realm of Little Tsar Boris III assassins still throw bombs with long sputtering fuses in the good old way. The bombee, if an experienced official, has at least a sporting chance of snuffing out the fuse before explosion happens. Therefore, last week, when a bomb hurtled past Chief of the Secret Police Ikonomoff as he was entering his house at Sofia and rolled ahead of him down the dark hall, the worst was not necessarily to be feared. . . . Experienced, adept, Chief Ikonomoff did not flee out into the street, but sought to protect his household by darting forward to extinguish...