Word: bored
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...this does not mean that the people liked the Germans. The Normans bore their four years of occupation as they would have borne any other unwelcome visitation, with patience and a good deal of phlegm. The people here are not as demonstrative or excitable as are the people of many parts of France, and the wars of 1870 and 1914 had left them without the active hatred of the Germans that other Frenchmen felt. And so they went on with their cattle raising and farming and horse-racing and with their smalltown occupations. Although the resistance movement was not inactive...
Most of the accounts bore the glaze of battle, the slightly romantic touch of excited and hurried newsmen. An ancient Norman, dozing in his house, was nearer the earthy truth of France. A correspondent asked him what the people thought of De Gaulle. The old man, authentically sour, growled that Normans cared more about the price of pigs...
Buildings and parks still bore the scars of Nazi bullets, fired into Italian crowds by Nazi soldiers. Correspondents visited a Nazi torture chamber in the Gestapo jail at No. 145 Via Tasso, talked with Angelo Yoppi, a hopeless cripple after 52 days' imprisonment there with his hands and legs tied behind his back. They peered into a cavern on Rome's outskirts, where the Nazis had piled like cordwood some 500 Italians massacred last March in reprisal for the grenade-killing of 32 German soldiers; now weeping Romans stood at the tomb's mouth, searching for relatives...
...mill so long and so boldly, began to get nerves. And frankly I was the worst of the lot, and continued to be. I began having terrible periods of depression and often would dream hideous dreams about it. All the time fear lay blackly deep upon your consciousness. It bore down on your heart like an all-consuming weight. People would talk to you, and you wouldn't hear what they were saying...
Throughout the Pacific, "Top of the Mark" is a nostalgic name. On a hill above a New Guinea airfield the thatch-roofed Officers Club was named "Top of the Mark." On atolls and in jungles, dusty tents and tubular Quonset huts bore the same name. The original is in San Francisco, an elegant saloon atop the city-topping Mark Hopkins Hotel. When fog winnows against the great windowpanes, the circular bar and soft lounges seem out of this world. For soldiers and sailors, its atmosphere is just right for the gaiety of homecoming, the murmuring of farewell...