Word: bread
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...Bread & Sweat. Reporting back to the tall colonel, who turned out to be Colonel Pal Maleter (later Defense Minister in the ten-day government of Imre Nagy), Peter at last ate some bread and tea. "Guys were sitting around everywhere. Many were sleeping on the floor." Sweating it out, Peter had time to think about the consequences of what he had done. He decided to go home. He told his wife he had been working all this time. But when he heard the official radio call the Freedom Fighters "counterrevolutionaries and fascists," he knew there would be reprisals...
Good Fellowship. A Red Cross lunch of soup, bread, cheese and sliced sausage was about to be served when the visitor entered the camp dining hall. It was promptly forgotten as photographers and newsmen milled among the refugees who were swarming to greet the caller. Holding his own bravely in the melee, Nixon had a word or a smile or a handshake for anyone who could reach him. "I wish we had time to greet you all personally," he said. The refugees responded with a rousing, "Long live Hungarian-American friendship...
...nearer the British and French got to their final pullout from Suez, the more boldly the Egyptians displayed resentment of their presence in Port Said. A British lieutenant was kidnaped in broad daylight, a major seriously wounded when a bomb wrapped in a bread loaf was tossed into a crowded staff car. When 600 British troops ransacked the Arab quarter and rounded up 1,000 men and boys in a dead-or-alive hunt for the lieutenant and his kidnapers, Egyptians carried out a dozen or more grenade, small-arms and even rocket attacks on British and French night patrols...
...streamed from shopping queues, broken buildings, rubble-strewn side streets. Then, 4,000 strong, the widows and sisters of Budapest marched for Heroes Square to honor the memory of their men. As they trudged through the rain, some bore flowers, but most carried only thin shoppers' bundles of bread, cabbages, onions. Threading past the wreckage of their city, they chanted the words of Sandor Petofi, poet of Hungary's 1848 revolt: "We shall never be slaves...
...team became divided between the "goers" and the "stayers," but there was no bitterness between the two groups. "I have to go back," one of the goers told a weeping Hungarian girl from Queensland. "My parents are old, and I may be the only one able to give them bread." Crew Coach Zoltan Torok, while still in Prague, had made up his mind to escape in Australia. Others sounded out Australians and U.S. team members, and were given assurances...