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...represent what ordinary Americans and Britons would call "democracy" at home are precisely those toward whom the U.S. State Department and the British Foreign Office have shown the most warmth. Washington and London have been-to say the least-out of touch with the tremendous democratic resurgence which sprang from the pressures of war and oppression in German Europe. Perhaps Washington and London now recognize the facts of 1943 life in Occupied Europe.* But to satisfy the Russians, Messrs. Eden and Hull must submit believable evidence...
Italy's fate could not be determined by a simple choice between "Democracy" and "Fascism." Many an Italian realized that, like German Naziism (see p. 25), Italian Fascism sprang from the national body, and that the nation would have to make full retribution. In the first days after the Duce's downfall Milan's Sette Giorni said...
...watching with covert awe the two breakfasting together, all seem to have derived the same impression. It was the professional wit who listened and laughed. It was his wife who made the jokes. This was a true reflection of their life together. Mr. Shaw valued her criticism, knowing it sprang from a genuine love for the arts and a shrewd native wit. She, for her part, was a devoted Shavian. . . . She shirked none of her fancies from youth to old age, and she faced the last of them with anticipation rather than with dread...
Across an open space at the bustling Norfolk Naval Air Station moved a truck with six small trailers, each carrying four depth charges ready to be loaded into the waiting anti-submarine patrol planes. Suddenly a little blaze sprang up on one of the trailers. A station fire engine dashed up in a brave, hopeless effort to halt the fire. But before it could go into action the 24 cordite-loaded charges exploded like a salvo of blockbusters in a blinding flash and shattering concussion. The toll: 25 dead*; 249 injured. The blast and fire wrecked a hangar and eight...
That legend is Bob Hope. It sprang up swiftly, telepathically, among U.S. servicemen in Britain this summer, traveling faster than even whirlwind Hope himself, then flew ahead of him to North Africa and Sicily, growing larger as it went. Like most legends, it represents measurable qualities in a kind of mystical blend. Hope was funny, treating hordes of soldiers to roars of laughter. He was friendly-ate with servicemen, drank with them, read their doggerel, listened to their songs. He was indefatigable, running himself ragged with five, six, seven shows a day. He was figurative-the straight link with home...