Word: dawn
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Pifer puts it this way: "When morning comes with the soldiery abed and tangled in a heap, the bathtub gin drained, leaving only a rosy residue of secretaries in half-slips, when the muddy colonel in the geranium bush is dragged indoors by dawn's first Negro to sleep it off in the vestibule under a smashed grandfather clock, when first brightness crashes through ripped drapes into the dehydrated eyes of snockered politicos, lobbyists in underpants, Pentagon sources and the secret police, when the hands that guide our collective destiny reach to kill the screams of the alarm clock...
...seemed to work that way last week. In Brasilia, the President, retired Army Marshal Emilio Garrastazu Medici, who is usually withdrawn and formidable, declared a two-day holiday and played host to Pelé & Co. at a victory lunch in his modern Palace of the Dawn. During the jubilation over the win at Mexico City, Medici himself strode out of his palace in shirtsleeves to join a crowd of young Brazilians who were celebrating the national triumph in the streets...
...fort, a sniper plinked away whenever an Israeli headed for a shower. The commander knew that artillery would be of little use; 105-mm. howitzers had been tried before, but only made the trees sway. Besides, the shells cost $85 apiece. One morning, the commander rose before dawn, hid among the dunes and, as soon as the sun began rising at his back, saw a slight movement in the sniper's tree. The commander's second shot brought the Egyptian down...
...amusing wave at an era that preceded Dylan's birth. Even better are his versions of Paul Simon's The Boxer and Gordon Light-foot's Early Mornin' Rain, the one just a shade more punchy than the original, the other just a shade more dawn-lit. Best of the borrowed songs, though, are his soft-slippered strolls through the California Gold Rush song Days of '49 and the woodsmoky American folk song Copper Kettle, as well as a brisk canter down that paean to a restless heart, Gotta Travel...
Events surrounding the anniversary week only deepened the gloom. In two skillful ambushes along the canal, 120 Egyptian commandos killed 13 Israeli soldiers. It was scant comfort that Israeli jets replied with six days of intensive bombing, including one 14-hour dawn-to-dusk raid, or that they shot down three Egyptian planes to bring their kills since 1967 to 101 (v. losses of nine). Near the Jordan border, Arab guerrillas fired Soviet-supplied, 220-mm. Katyusha rockets into the dusty town of Beisan on three occasions, killing three ten-year-old girls and wounding 36 people, mostly children...