(See Cover)
Among Warren Austin's more vivid memories is his maternal grandfather Robinson. The vinegary old Vermonter, when aroused, used to terrify his grandson with a cryptic and thunderous shout: "The Dragon! The Dragon!"
What the expletive meant, the boy Warren never knew. Last week, six decades later, he could wonder if his grandfather, who was something of a family oracle, might not have been crying a prophecy. In the forum of the U.N. the dragon of Communism snarls and spits and spreads its terror. Destiny, framed by TV, thrust Warren Austin spang before...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
