Rain fell, a sleety, chilling March drizzle. Up the green slopes of Arlington Cemetery rolled a black limousine. On a roadway near a freshly dug grave it stopped. Inside, Franklin Roosevelt leaned back against the beige upholstery and looked out on a dismal scene. They were burying big, bluff "Pa" Watson, the man whose boisterous laugh and high good humor had never failed to cheer the President. If Franklin Roosevelt's lean, set face showed any emotion, no one could record it. The rain streaming down the windows curtained the man within. He...
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