Word: griefs
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Many of the young men had been deported by the Germans to serve in labor battalions. Many of the people had fled. Vehicles loaded with goods and furniture cluttered the highways for miles around. But many-mostly the poor-had remained. They were the half-crazed, grief-shocked people who welcomed the Fifth. Hysterical at deliverance from the Nazis, they bombarded the Allied soldiers with flowers, fruits, "vivas and kisses. Men and boys came out of holes, too, carrying rifles and grenades. Packs of them screaming vengeance on the Tedeschi (the Germans) swarmed through the streets, drawing their hands menacingly...
...articulated unit" barge vessel, that looked like four boxes hooked together with springs and cables. When old-line shipyards refused to have anything to do with such a crazy thing, Chris Jensen turned out the unit in an improvised shipyard beside the Cargill grain elevators in Albany, N.Y. Only grief it ever met was a storm on Lake Michigan, which sank it in 60 feet of water. Chris Jensen got a salvage crew together, yanked the 300-ft. link of barges to the surface, had the motor, running an hour later, cut the usual salvage cost in half...
...graveyard, not all expressions were of grief and hope of eternity. There was also smoldering anger. Said one young lieutenant from Mississippi, as he saw the still line-up at the cemetery's edge: "I wonder if those sons of bitches holding up war production back home wouldn't change their minds if they could look at this...
Exquisite Lucius Beebe, recording the rarefied doings of the haut monde in his syndicated 'column, This New York, reported: "The greatest wartime grief of the town's exquisites is not the curtailment of moderate essentials of living like food and transport, but the complete disappearance from circulation of Floris's mouthwash, formerly imported from England! . . . There isn't a flagon of this choosy smell left on any chemist's shelf in town...
Only one man could finally answer that question-and he was tight-lipped with grief. But there are few problems Henry Ford has not foreseen. Wall Street, which Henry Ford hates obsessively, rubbed its hands at the prospect of enormous fees if the family-held stock should be sold to the public in order to pay astronomical inheritance taxes. But Wall Street rubbed its hands too soon...