Word: fled
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...with sandbags and machine guns, was captured. At the height of the battle federal cavalry was sent to cut the railway north of Jiminez and prevent the rebels escaping. A lucky shot by a federal bombing plane exploded an ammunition train behind the town. The rebels, believing themselves surrounded, fled. Jiminez was captured...
Miles of trenches and barbed wire entanglements, which the rebels had constructed to defend Hankow (TIME, April 8), were simply abandoned, as a half-dozen rebel "Generals" absconded from their commands and fled for their lives across the sluggish Yangtze-kiang. Meanwhile other "Generals" made a great show of trampling on their revolutionary banners, and deserted to the Nationalist standard of advancing Marshal Chiang Kaishek. There was absolutely no resistance at Hankow when spruce Marshal Chiang stepped ashore from a Nationalist river gunboat described as the flagship of so-called Grand Admiral Yang Shu-chwang...
...allowed to occupy and police the rich Chinese province of Shantung. Though the rebels were utterly routed at Hankow on the north bank of the Yang-tze-kiang, last week, the absconding rebel "Generals" collected a force of uncertain strength on the south bank, to which they had fled, and President Chiang Kai-shek prepared to engage in prolonged dickering and skirmishing. Nonetheless he stood forth, last week, more clearly than ever as the Strong Man of modern China...
Down the Pincian Hill with cassock billowing behind him fled the holy one, now thoroughly alarmed. He was only a humble Benedictine monk, but so strongly did he resemble Pius XI that, unconvinced by his protests, one of the children reverently picked up and treasured the little breviary lying on the ground. In humble Roman homes it is now fully believed that the Pope's first step into the great world since his "liberation," was in the simple quality and disguise of a lowly monk and for the gentle purpose of dozing on a park bench...
...friend riotously cranked the projector in the doorway and ribbons of celluloid spewed from the machine and lay curled on the floor. The butt of Operator Bazarnov's cigaret fell to the ground. In an instant the projector and the doorway were a mass of flames. Bazarnov, singed, fled for his life. A pitiful few escaped through a trapdoor to the floor below, but 120 were burnt alive. Wild-eyed peasants, unable to save their friends, rushed to the home of Sergius Wjarasmutkin. It was his factory, he must be to blame. Wjarasmutkin was beaten, stoned. At last...