His step was springy, his shoulders squared, his eyes aglint with reminiscence as he strode on to the West Point parade ground to review the Corps of Cadets. He wore the inevitable dented grey hat, a grey suit with a Mack, gold and grey arm band, and a West Point medal surmounted by the name plate: EISENHOWER '15. Forty-four years before, "Eisenhower from Kansas, sir," the man in grey mufti had enrolled at West Point, class of 1915, after a couple of years' hard slogging at shocking grain, forking wild ponies and stoking...
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