Word: hells
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...faint splash-splash of the propeller getting faster and faster. This is the most frightening time. You hear this thing going over and you wonder, "Has he dropped it now?" I forget how many depth charges were dropped, 40 or 50. I remember saying to myself: "This is hell, and I am not going to stay in submarines any more. I just can't take it." I looked around. The men were not very happy, and were wetting their lips a bit. Well, when we got back in harbor, we felt pretty good because we had sunk five ships...
Earned Repose. He had earned his rest. Few men can ever have gone through more plain hell trying to find a place in the special hell of battle. Ben Kuroki's father was a seed-potato grower in Hershey, Neb., a town of about 500 people. Ben and his kid brother Fred (now overseas with an engineer outfit) volunteered for the Army two days after Pearl Harbor, were accepted a month later. Ben landed in the Air Forces and started to run his personal gantlet at Sheppard Field...
...Saidor were allowed to report last week that the rockets burst in a spray of raking death and spread like burning balls, scorching large areas along the beaches. At Saidor the entire landing area was bathed in flames before the troops piled ashore. Admiring Marines promptly nicknamed the skipping, hell-raising rocket shells "Daisy Cutters...
Here's the idea. A guy who never heard jazz before meanders into the room for a drink and is assailed with 18 choruses of "Sensation Rag." Ordinarily, he might think "Ki-rist, what the hell is this?" but a little card on the table explains "You are listening to dixieland jazz. . . This is the music of gay New Orleans, of Buddy Bolden and king Oliver, of Jelly Roll Morton and the Original Dixieland Jazz Band, of Louis Armstrong's Hot Five and the New Orleans Rhythm Kings. . . . Only at the Dixieland Room of the Copley Square Hotel can Bostonians...
...Snooty dames, snooty as hell...