Word: shores
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...million goggling Aussies whooped it up on the shore as the royal liner Gothic steamed into Sydney harbor. There were 1,000 private yachts, several Australian warships, scores of sightseeing steamers, and a school of hot-rod speedboats driven by cheering teenagers, who seemed more eager to swamp the police boats than to welcome their Queen. Cannon roared; sirens blew; wave after wave of fighter aircraft swooped low over the royal yacht. Her Majesty, helped by Philip, stepped ashore at Farm Cove, where the first English settlers (290 freemen and 717 convicts) landed...
...first slash of dawn cut across the sullen grey sea, U.S.-supplied Grumman fighters tore into the coastline. They laid their napalm on a hill that overlooked the beach objective, worked the area with their machine guns. Then U.S.-supplied landing craft lurched towards shore. There was no resistance. The Communists, in the style of this uncanny war, had known for days where the French were landing, when they were coming, and how; they simply melted into the hills, taking the adult population of Tuyhoa with them. The small town was empty but for one suicide squad-eight men with...
...Next day the three castaways thumbed a ride in a passing launch (full of tourists) and were taken to Butiaba, on the shore of Lake Albert. The Hemingways climbed into another plane-which not only crashed but burned on the takeoff. Again they escaped serious harm: Hemingway got out with a cut head, his wife with two cracked ribs. This week, after cautious traveling by automobile, they settled down for a bit of rest in the town of Entebbe, in Uganda. "I feel wonderful," cried Hemingway, clutching a stalk of bananas and a bottle of gin. "I think [my luck...
...Harry Grant did not act like the run of carefree yachtsmen. When he was not tending the deep-sea fishing line trailing over the stern, he riffled through mountains of papers, pounded out letters and memos on a portable typewriter, talked by ship-to-shore phone...
Poet Jeffers is a grave, courteous man whom a good friend once described as being "cold to the human species." For more than 40 years he has lived at Carmel. Calif, in a house made, largely with his own hands, of stones rolled up from the shore below. Only in recent years has he allowed himself a telephone and electric lighting; long ago he planted thousands of trees to guard his privacy from encroaching civilization. Optimists, those who put their faith in humanity, believers in God, in fact most people, will find little comfort anywhere in Jeffers' work. Even...