Word: volleyer
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Next day at dawn, Grimau, pale but composed, was led into the courtyard of Carabanchel Prison just outside Madrid. He walked alone to the wall, refused a blindfold, shouted "Viva el Comunismo!", and then collapsed under a volley of shots fired by Spanish Moroccan troops...
...dawn rose over Paris early one morning last week, a volley of rifle shots echoed through dank, grim Ivry Fort. Dead before the firing squad sank ex-Lieut. Colonel Jean-Marie Bastien-Thiry, 35, convicted ringleader of last summer's abortive attempt to assassinate Charles de Gaulle in the Paris suburb of Petit-Clamart as he was motoring to his country home at Colombey-les-Deux-Eglises.* Though De Gaulle spared two other plotters, he presumably ordered the execution of Bastien-Thiry to discourage other terrorists from further assassination efforts on behalf of the dread Secret Army Organization...
...their ancient tradition of indolence. On Sept. 27, grim little groups break out their hidden weapons and converge on German units. A substantial enemy force is besieged in a soccer stadium. German columns rush to its relief. But the vermin of the Vomero pile barricades in their wretched alleys, volley grenades from the rooftops, take potshots from parked cars. Even the snotty-nosed scugnizzi manage to get guns and march against the Germans in infantine battalions...
...State of the Union message did evoke a scattered volley of praise, but even that was not so much for what Kennedy said but for how he said it. ''From his first sentence," gushed Columnist Doris Fleeson, "the President showed the new maturity and confidence bred by two hard years. The sophomoric buoyancy of the early days has disappeared." The pro-Democratic Washington Post went even farther. "Unexceptionable, unanswerable and irrefutable," it said of Kennedy's call for tax reduction and reform...
...absolutely devastating aplomb the enormous piece of green satin which for some reason was draped about her shoulders. Equally devastating was the brilliant high B (at the end of Gounod's "O my lyre immortelle") which brought the scheduled part of the concert to a close with the expected volley of applause. Then, as if just to show us she could do it. Mme. Crespin sang as an encore a Poulenc trifle which was all wit and elegance. Now if she only had followed that with "Ozean, du Ungeheuer...