Word: fogs
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...time of Edward VIII's abdication, Stanley Baldwin was the typical Englishman. At the time of the Munich crisis, Neville Chamberlain was pathetically typical. But as of the fourth week of September 1940, Winston Churchill was the essence of his land. The three men are as dissimilar as fog, rain and hail, which are all water. But the country they ruled has changed. This England is different...
...gale whipped white saliva on to the sharp tongues of the Channel rip, and fog set in thick about Dover, Winston Churchill turned the House over to First Lord of the Admiralty A. V. Alexander. As the Prime Minister leaned busily over some notes, the First Lord announced that the destroyers bought from the U. S. would be given names of towns which lie in both Britain and the U. S., that the first flotilla would be given the initial C, and that the flotilla leader would be called Churchill. The Prime Minister busily leaned and fumbled, but the bald...
...author of Guilty Men ("Cato") shrouds himself, for reasons which nobody seems to know, in a thick British fog. He has been guessed to be Winston Church ill's son Randolph, H. G. Wells, Lord Beaverbrook, Leslie Hore-Belisha, Alfred Duff Cooper. All flatly deny authorship. At any rate Guilty Men is terse, biting, sometimes eloquent, gives every appear ance of careful, responsible judgment. The charges are not new. But the total indictment is terrible. Guilty Men is headed by a cast sheet of villains. Among them: Ramsay MacDonald, Earl Baldwin of Bewdley, Neville Chamberlain, Sir John Simon...
...career, handsome, laconic, 52-year-old José Félix Estigarribia, soldier, diplomat, statesman, boarded a plane with his wife in Asuncion for a holiday at his country home on Lake Ypacaray. Somewhere between Altos and San Bernardino, 65 miles east of the capital, the pilot ran into fog and crashed...
...either side of the Thames. . . . Everywhere smoke is arising. . . . The wind is driving a black veil across the slums of London's East End. . . . The German planes have dropped their bombs with the utmost precision. Like gnats over a swamp - so the fighters dance over the grey London fog. Everywhere the eye looks it sees Hurricanes and Spitfires. And, in between, the sharp contours of the Messerschmitts in chase...