Word: misted
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...differed in describing Takrouna. Some of the Highlanders, staring at it through the moon-sifting mist that night, said that it looked like Edinburgh Castle. Other men said it looked like terrain on the moon. One man, looking at it through binoculars, said: "It is as though a great rectangular block of stone had been set down quite recently at the edge of the plain, and then another, smaller block on top of that. The height was held by some of the best Axis troops, for Takrouna was the beginning of the last natural wall before Tunis...
...about that on said date 1-43 becomes eligible to wear a white shirt every day ... and a paper collar every two day ... in short, achieve the distinction (?) of being summoned as Company A ... the date of our "last night ashore" is still shrouded in a typical New England mist ... lay your own odds as to whether we see the sunrise over the Yard on the 30th of May or not, or march with your own local American Legion in the holiday parade. Casualty list: a good percentage of one Tactics group sunk and not without Trace ... in fact...
...half their machines still unpowered, Derry's men turned to, repaired their first ship, the Albatross, She was around their necks for days. Four times she stood out to sea, then came back for more repairs before the base finally and happily saw her waddle away into the mist...
...U.S.S. Angry turned her snub, sea-battered nose out into the grey wilderness of wintry Atlantic. Green water pounded the corvette's narrow decks, doused her open bridge where the hooded skipper stood squinting into the mist. Now and then he gave a quiet command for relay to engine room, signalmen and the helmsman below. The Angry was heading back to sea, guarding another convoy of rusty freighters, laden with men and supplies for distant battlefronts...
...crossed a high ridge climbing an almost impossibly steep path covered with a thick layer of soft wet mud. The forest was soaking wet and the dripping mist in the treetops cast a sepulchral gloom over everything. Here we met a man, emaciated, filthy, saturated to the skin, staggering blindly forward, murmuring the word "Indoo," India, the goal to which he had been pressing literally for months. This Chinese soldier was alone, a thousand miles from home, and dying on his feet. Yet he was still going. The next man we came to was a sturdy young man, about...