(See Cover]
For four days Dwight Eisenhower stayed close to his cliffside room in the Hotel Thayer at West Point, gazing out on an ice-choked Hudson River and the snow-covered hills. Outside his third-floor "presidential" suite, an MP stood guard. Downstairs in the basement grill, several hundred college girls and their cadet dates devoured cheeseburgers and malted milks while a juke box thumped out Goodnight, Irene.
In khaki shirt-sleeves and suspenders, the general prowled the red carpet of his sitting room, conferred with one or two aides, talked by direct phone to...
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