Word: paled
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Moss had hoped for rain ("I do better in the wet"), but a bright sun warmed the crowd of 72,000. Settling into the cockpit of his low-slung, pale green Lotus, Moss joshed Rival Graham Hill, who was piloting a faster BRM: "Don't try too hard, Graham, or you'll blow it up." He screwed in his earplugs, snapped his helmet strap and adjusted his goggles. "Hey," he yelled to Mechanic Tony Robinson. "Where's my chewing gum?" Robinson handed him a stick. Moss waved. "Here goes," he said. Then, exhaust crackling fiercely, he roared...
Half an hour later he had come no closer to understanding when commotion in the outer office announced the arrival of the Chief and his men. They looked pale and shaken, and when Biff heard what they had seen he realized...
Shock for a Concierge. Pale, black-mustached, his silver hair dyed black, blue-suited Salan, 62, looked like a typical Paris businessman, which he claimed to be. From behind the desk where he was seated when they arrived, he wordlessly handed a police inspector an identity card in the name of Louis Carriere. (Methodical Raoul Salan took the name from the Paris street where he once lived.) After a studied silence, the cop pointed his revolver at the general's chest, drawled: "You are Salan...
...under the general in Indo-China, came with him to Algiers for the April putsch. As police bundled them outside, one cop could not help identifying their catch to other residents in the hallway. When the concierge heard that M. Carriere was Raoul Salan, she fainted. Silent and deathly pale, Salan was taken with Ferrandi by helicopter to Reghai'a, French military headquarters 20 miles from town, where the S.A.O. chief huddled bleakly on a bench between two gendarmes. There he was spotted by an old comrade-in-arms, loyal Gaullist Gen eral Charles Ailleret, who was relieved last...
...Gentlemen," brffsks the general, "we are sending a man around the moon-this week! I'm asking for volunteers." The astronaughts turn pale, drop their eyes, examine their nails, twiddle their fingers, fiddle with buttons, brush their sleeves, blow their noses. All at once an astro-chimp, who happens to be standing by, grabs a fork and playfully jabs one of these reluctant Shepards of kingdom come (Tom Tryon) in the behind. "Yeeee-ooww!" he squalls. "That's our man!" the general bawls...