Mission Accomplished

From London to Paris to Scotland, President Eisenhower kept up the momentum and drive that had swept aside European doubts about U.S. leadership--and everywhere his ovation rolled on tumultuously. In London, tens of thousands lined his route to the American Memorial Chapel at St. Paul's Cathedral, waving, some shouting "We like Ike!" and "Welcome!" In Paris, the crowds were restrained behind the official pomp and glitter, but cries for "Eek" followed him everywhere. The Scots came for miles to cheer him, even though he had slipped into Prestwick Airport only for a weekend's golf and relaxation. As he slowed down at week's end to reflect on the unprecedented tour, reporters could tell that he was richly happy and well pleased with the whole thing.

Ike & Mac. In the week's most novel performance, the President and Britain's Prime Minister Macmillan, in black tie before dinner at No. 10 Downing Street, sat down before British TV cameras for a 20-minute chat on a Britain-wide and Europe-wide hookup. Estimated audience: 20 million-plus. Macmillan, calling his friend of 17 years "Mr. President," congratulated him on his plan to exchange visits with Nikita Khrushchev--"sound contribution to peace." The President, calling the Prime Minister "Prime Minister" and "Harold," said that "Anglo-American relations have never been stronger and better than they are now."

Macmillan. sitting stiffly through most of the performance, just as stiffly led the conversation to his own achievements for the benefit of the voters who were watching. "A lot of our people," he said, "are frightened of war," and fear "blasts, counterblasts, lack of understanding" might lead to war. "That's why I set about my journeys [to Moscow] last February. Some people thought those a bit odd. And I think I'm bound to say that they haven't turned out too badly."

Said the President: "Well, Harold. I think there's one thing we should be very sure about. When we're talking about peace we're talking about something now that is the imperative of our time . . ."

Toward talk's end. Ike made a special point of sounding a strong note on West Berlin: "Freedom, if there's to be peace, is indivisible. We've really got to be firm." Macmillan said, "I agree." On parley-at-the-summit, the President cautioned firmly: "I will not be a party of a meeting that is going to depress and discourage people. Therefore, we must have some promise of fruitful results."

The following evening, in an occasion that outshone even Macmillan's TV show, the President invited 28 of his old comrades of World War II and other friends to a stag banquet at the U.S. embassy residence in London. There was Sir Winston Churchill, still game, who had flown up from the Riviera. There were Field Marshals Montgomery and Alanbrooke, sharp critics of Ike's leadership, whom the President greeted no less warmly. In a wondrous who-sits-where session for the photographers, the President, much as he did in the old days, finally got the British generals where he wanted them (see cut). And at dinner, amid old reminiscences, old discords faded.

Ike & Charles. Morning after the old comrades' dinner, the President flew in his Boeing 707 to the gleaming city that the Allies, for all their discords, had liberated in a brilliant campaign. There, waiting at Paris' Le Bourget Airport, stood erect General Charles de Gaulle, France's Man of Liberation and Man of Recovery, and now a proud and difficult ally often billed as NATO's No.1 problem. When the President all but sprinted down the ramp. De Gaulle stepped forward and said in English, "Hello, how are you?" Said De Gaulle later in a formal greeting: "You are a man, a man of intelligence, a man of heart, a man of honor." The President termed De Gaulle: "My old friend and colleague . . . the symbol of French courage, defiance and dedication."

The old mood thus restored, the trouble spots got engulfed in the pageantry. The two statesmen rode in triumph in an open-top black Citroen between ten-deep lines of Parisians, escorted by red-white-and-blue-uniformed motorcycle cops, later by shining-helmeted swordsmen of the Garde Republicaine. That afternoon, amid dignified rather than hysterical applause, they drove up the Champs-Elysees to the tomb of the Unknown Soldier beneath the Arc de Triomphe. There the President saluted, walked past a guard of honor of hard. fit. proud-looking troops, laid a wreath of pink lilies and red roses beside the eternal flame. The President, standing bareheaded, was deeply moved. De Gaulle, several steps to the rear, waited for long moments as the drums rolled and taps broke the evening quiet. Half an hour later, at a surging greeting at the Hotel-de-Ville in the name of the people of Paris, the President responded: "When the heart is full, the tongue is very likely to stumble. I have one small French phrase that, I think, expresses my feelings--Je vous aime tons."

Ike & NATO. Between and after pageants, the President held two solid talks with De Gaulle, one for 70 minutes alone with interpreters, one for almost an hour with Secretary of State Christian Herter and French Foreign Minister Maurice Couve de Murville. On France's labyrinthine problem in Algeria, a problem that De Gaulle kept coming back to, the President was pleased and impressed by De Gaulle's new initiative there toward settlement (see FOREIGN NEWS). On NATO, the President restrained De Gaulle's widely bruited hopes for a sort of NATO three-power directorate by promising principally to keep in closer touch with more man-to-man transatlantic phone talks. Ike emphasized to De Gaulle, as he re-emphasized in parallel talks with NATO Officers M.J.M.A.H. Luns of The Netherlands and Paul-Henri Spaak of Belgium, with Italy's visiting Premier Antonio

Segni and Foreign Minister Giuseppe Pella, that in NATO all members, including the U.S., are "equal."

On the final afternoon of his mission to France, the President drove out of town, dropped in at his old NATO command at Rocquencourt, headed on through the green lanes of prospering France to stay overnight with De Gaulle at the country mansion of French Presidents, the centuries-old Chateau de Rambouillet. There Ike confided to De Gaulle the major conclusion of his mission to date. Said the President emphatically: he has seen a dramatic change for the better in France since De Gaulle has taken over -"a sense of purpose.'' And about De Gaulle, the President confided to a friend: "I know he's a stubborn man, but as long as he's stubborn on our side, everything's all right." On the crucial summit issue, Charles de Gaulle was all of that. Said the final U.S.-French communique: "A summit conference, useful in principle, should take place only when there is some possibility of definite accomplishment."

Ike & the Scots. Early next morning, the President was in Scotland. Through the rolling fields of Ayrshire, across moors and heaths, skirting the cottage of Poet Robert Burns, the President drove to battlemented Culzean (pronounced Cul-lane) Castle high on its cliff above the Firth of Clyde. Three months after the war, the Scottish people presented to the President a nine-room apartment on the castle's top floor. Visiting the place in 1951, Mamie Eisenhower had said: "It's like a fairy tale--the kind we read about in Grimm's story book." Now, greeted by the Marquess of Ailsa and the Earl of Weymss and March, the President rolled into Culzean to rest up. "No one." said one of the Scotsmen in polite warning, "will bother him or fuss him."

But Eisenhower, 68, with a store of energy that now seemed inexhaustible, was out by 2 p.m. at Turnberry golf club to play 18 holes. "The old boy is looking well," said one member. "Oh, splendid." said another. The President asked his caddy, "Are you lucky?" "Yes, sir!" As a curious crowd of 400 encircled him at the first tee, the President said: "I'd like to hit a practice ball, but I don't see how I can. They've sure got confidence in me." After security men cleared a small gap in the crowd, Ike blasted through it -"Good shot." the crowd murmured, and Ike shot an 89. Next morning, who should turn up at Culzean Castle but the President's old golf-playing and bridge-playing buddies, William Robinson, chairman of the board of Coca-Cola, and W. Alton ("Pete") Jones, chairman of the executive committee of Cities Service Co. Ike's aides had called them from Paris, invited them to Scotland. "We'll be over," said they, and they were.-

This week, deeply gratified by the progress of his mission and refreshed by the interlude in Scotland, the President headed back to Washington, with only a scant week remaining before the arrival of Nikita Khrushchev.

*Enshrining once again a White House press corps ditty, Ike's Millionaires, which goes: We make the Stock Exchange our hangout,

But whenever Ike wants us near,

Rain or shine,

We hop a plane, and answer "Here!"

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