Word: mists
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Next jaunt was a 75-mile trip to Mount Rainier. Mist hung low as the President's car moved up through the foothills, crossed a river at the foot of Nisqually Glacier. But as he drove higher between high snow walls, the sun came out and the 14,000-ft. peak above them hung dazzling white against a blue mountain sky. At Paradise Valley, 5,400 feet above sea level, the President threw snowballs, stared at the heights through glasses, went into sprawling Paradise Inn to play a few pieces on the piano...
...race south for Manila. In three days it covered 50 miles. On its flank raced the spectacular ist Cavalry, rolling on wheels. Beightler swore: "We've fought our way a hundred miles and we won't let those feather merchants beat us in." Through a mid-morning mist the 37th saw Manila at last. The ist Cavalry, plunging ahead to liberate Santo Tomas, did beat them in, but it was the 37th which paddled across the Pasig River to seize the old walled Intramuros, where the vindictive Japs trapped in Manila fought to the end. Then the 37th...
...Chungking. Dawn poked through the chill Yangtze mist. Generalissimo Chiang Kaishek, ever an early riser, was at breakfast when an aide brought him the news. He left his food untasted, withdrew for meditation. Hours later he sent his thoughts to Mrs. Roosevelt: "I am deeply grieved. . . . The profound sorrow of the Chinese people . . . the deep sense of gratitude they bear for him. . . . His name will be a beacon of light to humanity...
...Rhine through the artificial white fog, listening to the whine of woodsaws and the coughing of the red-eyed engineers who have been living in this chemical cloud for days as they throw bridge after bridge across the smooth, fast-flowing waters. On the other side, as the mist lifts, you pass through the familiar phenomena of big captured towns in Germany: mile after mile of smashed industrial sections, of ruined homes, of buildings broken, and broken over & over again into brick dust. Then suddenly you are past the last stretch of rusted junk that used to be a railroad...
During the three years of Japanese occupation of the Philippines, stocky, brilliant Tomás Confesor, 54, hid out in the lofty, mist-drenched mountains of Panay. There he calmly continued to conduct the affairs of his office as governor in exile of Iloilo Province and later of all Panay...