Word: grave
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...since the black days of Teapot Dome had such grave charges and innuendoes been sounded by a responsible member of the U.S. Congress. Yet newsmen everywhere handled the charges gingerly. They were aware of the degeneration of the interservice squabbles into an eye-gouging finish fight. In the Pentagon, the security curtain clanked down abruptly. Worried staff officers warned inquiring newsmen not even to discuss the matter over the telephone, for fear of wiretapping. A stream of other rumors flooded through Washington...
...riffling the rows of flags. At 11 o'clock a can non thudded out the first salvo of the slow, rolling 19-gun salute and a flag-draped caisson moved slowly up from the Arlington gate, bearing the first U.S. Secretary of Defense to a sailor's grave...
From the flower-banked stage a minister intoned the words of the Episcopal burial service: "I am the resurrection and the life . . . Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?" An honor guard of Marine riflemen fired three sharp volleys over the plain white wooden marker: "James V. Forrestal, Lieut. U.S.N." and a Marine bugler sounded taps. In the crowd of departing mourners, hat in hand, went the man who had begun to carry on from the point where the doughty, dedicated spirit of James Forrestal had finally given...
Robert Salau of the Seventh Day Adventist Church arrived in New York City last week for his first look at a strange land; Pastor Salau is a missionary among his own people of the Solomon Islands. Above his grave, calm face his hair stood straight up in a shock of black fuzz; he was dressed in a blue tweed jacket and blue woolen skirt with red belt, black oxfords and black, knee-length stockings. He was not prepared for the reporters and photographers who found him aboard the liner Mauretania, on a trip that is taking him around the world...
...been left sterile by an atomic explosion. Plugging doggedly away, Adapter Kirkland (Tobacco Road) left no phrase unturned that might possibly call forth a snicker. But Mr. Adam was worse than vulgar; it was almost maddeningly boring. By week's end it had followed the season to the grave...