Word: dour
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Navy Secretary Frank Knox had been there. So had Senator Styles Bridges, Louisiana's Congressman James Morrison, a major general, an archduke, industrialists, and a host of other Washington characters, known & unknown. Host of the house on R Street was one James Porter Monroe, dour, bald, and effusive. Hostess was a Mrs. Eula Smith, Alabama-born, tall, sedate, aloof...
...Tall, dour, diffident Publisher Robert Rutherford ("Bertie") McCormick and his arch -isolationist, Roosevelt-hating Chicago Tribune have been, in the year and a half the U.S. has been at war, active obstructionists. They have sniped and ranted ceaselessly at the President and every phase of the war effort, have publicly doubted the necessity of rationing, have insisted that the U.S. is giving up strawberry jam to assure jam for British breakfasts, that OPA is spying on merchants, that England wants empire-as-usual, that the European war is not our first concern...
...face, headed the column of 2,000 prisoners. The Italians wore non descript dress: some blue, some grey, some brown, some in knickers, some in shorts, some in long pants, one without any pants. At the end of the column were about 50 Germans, well dressed, grim and dour, as unhappy about being captured as the Italians were happy." In the next few days the Eighth Army captured about the equivalent of a division, mostly Italians...
...relief they learned that the graves were empty. But the incidents had been real enough. In the camp close by, British Command troops had long been training under real fire, and unwary men had indeed been killed. Now U.S. Army Rangers were in training there, in a course as dour and harsh as the snow that capped the crags and sluiced icy water into the ankle-deep mud of the glens...
...Have an appointment for three," he whispered. He thrust his appointment card toward the starched uniform. "You are number 52," the voice laughed. Bloody 52, Vag shot back, silently. He shuffled from desk to desk, chilled as the dour, guarded faces nodded and smiled toothily. He started, then settled back sheepishly as a cold feminine hand clutched his. "All right now, this isn't going to hurt." She squeezed the blood from his finger onto the glass plate. He started. It was a dark, smooth red. Crimson in triumph flashing, Vag laughed to himself...