Word: bricks
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...time for loud laughing and hearty reminiscences of some of the boys who were gone. Captain Harry did some reminiscing himself: Remember poor old Sandifer? He came through many a prizefight on cigarettes and a bottle of whisky, recalled the President, but "a fellow in Kansas City . . . dropped a brick on him and killed him." Then he solemnly reminded his boys that they and he must be careful not to get the big head: "Due to the fact that through luck and the good Lord you happen to have a Chief Executive of the United States, you mustn...
Though it stands in Berlin's U.S. sector, the big red brick building that houses Berlin's railway administration is occupied by Russians. One night last week small groups of striking transport workers sidled up to the building. At the entrance they disarmed two guards, rushed inside. While some strikers brandished guns at a door (see cut) behind which Russians were barricaded, 200 other strikers stampeded through the building, tore pictures of Lenin and Stalin from the walls. Only when four Russian officers, enraged by this desecration, screamed " 'Raus, 'raus!" (Out, out) and beat down...
Bombs soared into the air and burst a thousand feet above the harbor into terrible yellow blossom. Shrapnel peppered the brick walls of the warehouses, plowed the planks off the pier, and rained down upon the hissing waters. Shells shot hither & thither, exploding under the touch of the terrific heat and shooting their missiles at random. Some of the shrapnel shells fell even in Manhattan. On the pier arose a white glare as of a million mercury-vapor lights...
They live in a brick-glass, fluorescent-lighted palace with individual and family-size eages. When a biologist operates on them, an anaesthetist always stands by with a tankful of other. The rats lives are regulated according to the most scientific methods of bodily discipline...
Honor Balfour cabled: "This is a conference of worried men. From back-street boarding houses to the big, red brick Cliffs Hotel on the upper-class north shore, there's a sense of disquiet, restiveness, uncertainty. Gone are the days when delegates huddled in eager groups in cafes and lounges, heads thrust forward in lively argument, eyes shining in anticipation of a great crusade. Gone are the more recent days when, flushed with new power, they sank into easy chairs and sprawled in happy discussion, secure in the knowledge that an order to their parliamentary steamroller would change...