Word: vanguarde
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Next day a tight-lipped Bunche headed for the airport to await the plane that would fly him back to Léopoldville. When he got to the field, he found a platoon of gun-toting troops, apparently ready to riddle the plane if it proved to contain the vanguard of arriving U.N. troops. Nearby were trucks and oil drums to be used as runway obstacles if more planes arrived. Sensing a delicate moment, Bunche grabbed the airport radio microphone and asked the pilot of the plane heading for the field whether any soldiers were on board. Assured there were...
...many battlewagons as the world's other top two powers combined. In 1918, before the sun commenced to set on British seapower, the Royal Navy boasted 50 battleships. Last week, without ceremony, the navy sailed the last of Her Majesty's battleships, the 44,500 ton Vanguard, from Portsmouth up to the Clyde to be broken up for scrap...
...satellite hitchhiker was a space Cinderella. Originally intended to be taken aloft by the U.S.'s ill-fated Vanguard, it was left forlornly on earth when the Vanguard program was discontinued. Rescued by Transit, it is now on a beautiful orbit that will probably keep it up for 50 years. Its instruments are sending information about solar ultraviolet and X rays, which do not pass through the earth's atmosphere but have effects on its upper layers. Data from the Cinderella satellite may explain radio blackouts and some kinds of weather...
...task for this week's cover, Artzy decided that the U.S. satellites-designed to seek scientific data-must be personified with definite professional functions. Starting with a dilettantish 0-119 trying to catch a Discoverer capsule with a butterfly net, he proceeded to produce (in clockwise order): a Vanguard III with a nose, "because that satellite was sent up for micrometeorite and magnetic studies, sniffing out information in space"; a shutter-ready, lens-eyed Tiros, taking pictures of the earth's cloud cover; a svelte medicine man of an Explorer I, using "a thermometer and stethoscope, since...
MIGUEL STREET, by V. S. Naipaul (222 pp.; Vanguard; $3.95), recalls the fact that, by some twist of mind or diet, the inhabitants of Trinidad speak English in a way that startles and delights the ear. They have this in common with nonprofessional speakers of Irish English (the barroom Irish of Manhattan's Third Avenue are tedious professionals) and with the talkers of Elizabethan England, if their playwrights bear true witness. In writing about such magnificent lingoists, color threatens to overwhelm shape, as it very nearly did in Naipaul's roguish first novel, The Mystic Masseur. In these...