Word: roaringly
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...primitive flying field to the already warming plane in which I was acting radioman. He laid his topee carefully on a palm stump so the slipstream wouldn't blow it off and climbed up on the wing beside my cockpit. 'So long!' he yelled above the roar of the motor. 'See you in Honolulu sometime.' Then he climbed down and stood for a few seconds with his head hanging in that quizzical way of his, his eyes looking up. Suddenly he clambered up on the wing again and shouted through the wind, 'Gee, John...
...Good Drive!" The President rode between two giant assembly lines, where a hundred General Lees-the new all-welded medium tank-were abuilding. He waved to 5,000 astounded workmen, who lined up in a solid wall to greet him. On the testing ground, he watched 50 tanks roar through mud and dust. One tank drove straight at him, slogged through a muddy testing hole, ground to a stop ten feet away. The young Polish driver stuck his dirty face from the turret and grinned. "A good drive!" shouted the President...
...standing on the outskirts of the city. Before us is the battlefield: smoking hillocks and flaming streets. Everywhere there is a bluish-black smoke cut by fairy arrows rf mortar fire from our guards. White German flares light up the long circular front. First we hear the Nazi bombers roar toward the city, then the explosions of their bombs. Next comes the roar of our bombers sailing west. They drop yellow flares to illuminate the German position, and a few seconds later they drop cargoes of death...
...Commander Jimmy Crowley's North Carolina Cloudbusters roar into town today and run through plays this afternoon in the Stadium at 4 o'clock. In preparation for the second appearance of the cadets in the cement horseshoe, which will be tomorrow afternoon, the Crimson forces of Dick Harlow have been through double sessions this past week...
...legs. Farmer Johnson shuffled awkwardly around the mound, his long right arm winding up the historic sidearm delivery. The first pitch was low and inside, the second a called strike. Ruth popped the third into right field, the fourth was ball two. Then the crowd let out a mighty roar as the Babe walloped the ball up, up, up into the right-field stands. Fourteen pitches later, he clouted another, trotted around the bases and called it a day. Old Barney had got only three strikes...