Word: raine
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...late afternoon rain was falling when the announcement came over the detention camp radio at Xylotombou, Cyprus. A young Jew scurried along the camp's muddy paths, blowing a trumpet as he ran. To Abraham Greenberg, the sound was like that of the trumpets that brought down the walls of Jericho long ago. Abraham ran to tell his wife Zahava. Their firstborn, Arie, was cutting his first teeth; he would be a Jew of Israel, the first of Abraham's family in centuries not to have another nationality. Abraham and Zahava and others in the camp built...
...been very successful, said Dr. Langmuir. Thirty-five of its cloud-seeding flights changed super cooled clouds* into ice or snow crystals. Last October, at Albuquerque, two large cumulus clouds were sprinkled with dry ice. They turned into a furious thunderstorm that drenched Albuquerque with heavy rain at a time of year when rain is uncommon...
Burial in the Rain. During World War II, as in the first war, the De Wendel holdings were barely damaged. At war's end, François was accused, but eventually cleared, of collaboration with the Germans. He retired to his family seat at Hayange, in Lorraine. There, last week, death-whose conquests he had so ably aided in his lifetime-came to Armorer François de Wendel...
...French press took small notice of his passing. Wrote one Paris paper: "Let this be a lesson to generals. The cannon-makers die in bed." In Hayange, the De Wendel family and 15,000 De Wendel workers gathered in a drizzling rain around the village church to bury François de Wendel. On the day he died, he had become a grandfather. His only son's child was named François, so that another François de Wendel could some day be iron master, provided (as seemed likely) that Europe would still need armorers...
That night, rain dampened the Negroes' fury, but next day the rioting broke out anew. Driven from Durban's center by police and hastily mobilized army and navy units, the Zulus roared into the ring of Indian settlements surrounding the city, chanting their age-old war songs, brandishing flaming torches, iron spikes and their clublike knobkerries. Whenever an Indian was spotted by the blacks, the fierce cry "Bulala!" (Kill!) was raised...