Word: pushed
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...weather, worse terrain, water-bound flanks and skillful enemy delaying tactics had decelerated what first promised to be a climactic thrust up the Italian boot. It was also evident that the Allies intended to push no costly drive up to the Brenner gateway to Germany. The forces to battle through were needed in other theaters...
...Angel. In his middle 40s, João Alberto is tallish, slender. A nervous tic periodically distorts his face. His kindly, scholarly bearing does not match his violent past or his present push. Brazilians tell some cynical tales about his appetite for money, and they remember his successful but intensely unpopular term as Federal Interventor in the rebellious State of São Paulo. He plays the piano beautifully, has almost memorized his favorite book, The Arabian Nights. He speaks English, is pro-American, has a son in the U.S. Air Forces. Among his pals: Sumner Welles and Carmen Miranda...
...will be months-perhaps many months-before Lord Louis Mountbatten's forces strike in strength. But, on the Burma borders, Allied power is already manifest. In the north, an Allied push clawed forward on schedule. Columns of crack Chinese troops in three weeks had advanced 50 miles, were at the southern tip of the 50-mile-long Hukawng Valley (see map). In the Chin hills to the south and west, where opium-smoking tribes men are still loyal, the British claimed the west bank of the Chindwin. The campaign has a limited but sharply important objective...
...Nations, published his Union Now in 1939. His basic proposal: that the "Atlantic democracies" (the U.S., Britain, France, Switzerland, The Netherlands, Belgium', the Scandinavian countries) form a "nuclear union" with common citizenship, currency, interstate trade, communications. Throughout the U.S., earnest, forward-looking citizens formed local committees to push the idea. Three years ago, in noisy convention at Cleveland, the local groups were consolidated as Federal Union...
...walks and lawns of Washington's Walter Reed Hospital the war-wounded push themselves around in wheel chairs or hobble among the reddening leaves. In the afternoon they see a spare old, straight-backed figure in dark civilian clothes who walks slowly to the drive and hoists himself into a limousine. Even the newest convalescent recognizes him. The face is chipped away by age, the eyes dim. But it is the face on monuments, and the bearing is still West Point. That's Black Jack Pershing, mister...