Word: smells
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...firemen made an alarming discovery-water pressure in the nearest hydrant was uselessly low; 15 precious minutes were lost running lines to outlets blocks away. Frantically, many a man fought his way into the building after relatives. Some succeeded, but most were driven back by heat and the smell of burning flesh. Building Superintendent Frank Ries went in to hunt for his wife and never came out again. Prospective Father Arnold Aderman watched his wife come down a ladder, got her home just in time to have her baby...
...process of sifting and shifting to find the right combination will continue. It is something only a crew coach can understand, and even he cannot explain it to the outsider. Bolles describes the task as "something you just see, or feel, or smell," but the job is not quite as nebulous as that. It consists of trying all the possible combinations until you hit upon the one that works best, but even when it happens you never know quite why it should be that...
...know," he said, "the highest pitch of French cuisine is canard faisandé-duck that has been hung a long time, so you can smell the bouquet. Very enjoyable to the educated nose. But if you offer it to the workers they will throw the rotten duck out, unless they throw it in your face. Now . . . the kitchen of the high bourgeoisie will make the proletarian vomit, and the paintings of the high bourgeoisie will make him vomit too-though this is nothing against the duck, or against modern...
...spare, fox-faced Martinet Montgomery chased Desert Fox Rommel's famed Afrika Korps 1,850 miles, from the gates of Alexandria into Tunisia. In his writing, as in battle, Monty has neither Eisenhower's scope nor Patton's dash and saltiness. Readers who want the smell and smoke of battle will not get it here. But El Alamein should appeal to chess players. Every move of every battle is explained with the logic, the patience and the bland assurance of an instructor demonstrating a foolproof system. Writes Monty: "I have always planned on the assumption of success...
Under the wet Indiana sky last week the delicate green of winter wheat lighted loam-black fields. The last snow had melted. Fat sows, trailed by stiff-legged shoats, nosed through the early budding clover. Factory-bright tractors roared across the fields; loaded manure spreaders clumped and rumbled. The smell of freshly turned earth was fragrant in the air. It was spring in Tipton County, one of the fattest agricultural areas in the state, and things looked good...