Peace, war, and politics [antikvár]

PROLOGUE I LOOKED UP FROM MY DESK one day in December 1971 and was confronted by the ashen face of Jeb Stuart Magruder, special assistant to President Nixon. It wasn't often that any of this president's men darkened my doorway. Magruder fidgeted a moment and then, in measured words, explained his mission. He had come about a possible misunderstanding at the White House: Gordon Liddy, one of the notorious White House "Plumbers," might be under the mistaken impression that Richard Nixon wanted me dead. Magruder explained that he had complained at a staff meeting about some columns I had written that were embarrassing to the president. Un-appreciative White House reviews were common enough in those days, but following this particular review session, Magruder had added, "The president would sure like to get rid of that guy." Liddy, at that point, had abruptly stood up and walked out of the meeting. Magruder had thought nothing of the characteristic Liddy exit—no explanations, no good-byes—but moments later his assistant Bob Reisner rushed breathlessly into the office with a look of horror on his face. "Did you tell Liddy to kill Jack Anderson?" Reisner blurted out. "Liddy just walked past my desk and said you'd told him to rub out Jack Anderson." "My God!" Magruder gasped. "Get him back in here." Liddy was stopped before he got out of the building and Magruder told him that "get rid of' had just been a figure of speech. Liddy sniffed with contempt, "Where I come from," he said, "that means a rubout." With Liddy, it was best to be specific. There are few experiences more invigorating than being on someone's hit list, however briefly. Of all the people who would have wished ill of me over the years, J.