Word: decking
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...ship readied to sail, Messersmith and Perón stood bareheaded on the deck, the Ambassador visibly shivering in the raw winter wind, talking fast and repeatedly jabbing Perón on the chest with his index finger. Perón reassuringly patted the Ambassador. Then the President joined 12,000 Peronistas on the pier. "Perón! Messersmith! Perón! Messersmith!" chanted the crowd. For nearly an hour, as the Del Sud moved into the stream and out to sea, Perón stood on the quayside-still waving...
With enough accuracy, atomic warheads would not be necessary for all purposes. A fair charge of ordinary explosive is enough to destroy, for instance, an aerial target, e.g., an enemy bomber. When launching methods are perfected, the missiles may take off in flocks, rising like falcons from the deck of a giant submarine which has crept toward an enemy coast...
...Cape Harting, with crated P-40s on her deck and a bellyfull of barreled aviation fuel, snaked through the Sandy Hook minefields one May morning. Rusty or not, she was good for 15 knots in a pinch, and sailed without convoy. Her chief engineer, an oldtime wrench-pusher named Seligman, knew just enough about high-pressure steam turbines to keep his nose out of the engine room. The men who ran the show down there were his assistants-notably Ed Greenewater, the first assistant, a sloppy, red-faced kid with an intuitive, possessive feel for engines, and Paul Jessup...
Britain, says Cards on the Table, will not take sides in a line-up for the next world war, will cooperate with the U.S. only on specific issues "where there is a clear common interest." Winston Churchill, obviously the Knave of Clubs in the deck, "wants a permanent alliance with America against what he sees as a permanent political danger." Ernie Bevin, the King of Hearts, "wants as close an association with Russia as we have now with America...
...Welcome Home!" roared half a million voices from the crowd clustered 40-deep along the Portsmouth waterfront. Naval batteries thundered salutes. Sirens howled. And from a forest of mastheads bobbing in the harbor royal ensigns dipped in respectful greeting. On the quarter-deck of the Vanguard the Royal Family stood once again, berry-brown and beaming at the end of their 14,000-mile, three-month trip. As the great, grey battleship that had carried them so far slid gracefully into her home berth once more, Princess Elizabeth was so excited that she broke into a dance step. "Oh," cried...