Word: skies
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...feel and smell of spring were as definite as the fine odor of hot tar of highway repair jobs; in many areas the sky was bright blue and white clouds sat motionless as mashed potatoes on the horizon. Early bugs died on windshields on Connecticut's Merritt Parkway. Sunbathers gathered in tentative knots along Los Angeles beaches despite ocean fog. Across the Midwest, spring plowing went on day & night; tractors with headlights rumbled across fields after dark like one-eyed monsters. From coast to coast men pulled on high boots and went fishing...
...noon, the pace of the looting had slowed. Most people went stolidly about their business. Vegetable hawkers shouted their wares. In the distance, occasional pistol shots sounded. At the river bank, two black columns of smoke from burning docks rose into the sunny, hazy sky...
...fired upon by the Reds, and retaliated with her 4½-inch guns. "It was bloody awful," said a Cockney survivor from the Consort. "But we gave it back to 'em. I saw one of their nahsty damned 'owitzers blown right aht of its bloody emplacement. Sky 'igh it went, too. We must 'ave killed two or three 'undred of the bah-stads." (In London, the Admiralty later said of the Consort: "She silenced the opposition...
...doggoned if I know why") on the edge of California's Death Valley. Last week, Stan Jones was cruising around Hollywood in a 1949 car, with reporters and photographers on his tail. Overnight, a little tune that he had cooked up around the campfire, called Riders in the Sky, had put him in the spotlight...
...Wilful S. Foulfellow, his eyes burning in the apricot sun. He could barely reach the plate. But he managed to lash a whistling bunt to the catcher. When the dust had died down Foulfellow stood on first, Pratt stood on second, and the henna sun stood in the sky...