The months of the spring and early summer of the year 1918 were black for the cause of the allies. Germany had made her peace with Russia. The Prussian spirit had revived not only in Prussia but throughout the German Empire. The transfer of troops from the Eastern to the Western front had been made. The British Empire with the backs of her soldiers to the wall, as Haig said, was being put to the test. America had begun to send her troops over, but not in the numbers or having the training which the terrible seriousness of the cause demanded. The westward rush of German divisions threw doubt only on one point whether the contest would reach its early consummation in the capture of Paris or in the capitulation of the channel ports. Among all the allies it was a time of deep questioning; among some a time of racking doubt; and among a few, a time of paralyzing dismay. The fate of the individual nations and of a democratic world was trembling in the balances of war.

It was under such circumstances and in such a mood that the United States began to consider the question of a larger participation through her forces in the world's conflict. Chief among the measures debated was the increase of her man power.

The Act of Congress putting down the draft age to eighteen instinctively and inevitably laid a condition on the students of the college of unexampled seriousness. This seriousness was intimated in a circular issued by the Committee on Education and Special Training in the month of March, 1918:

"The college student body constitutes a great military asset if fully developed. Many are material for junior officers and non-commissioned officers. One hundred thousand young men systematically instructed say twelve hours a week during the college year, and with summer training camps, would produce at the end of each summer during the period of the war a body of trained young men who would be of immense value in forming larger armies if the war, as now seems likely, is much prolonged. In our judgment the military value of training all the college students of the country is alone more than sufficient to justify such a plan.

At the same time a well-conceived and comprehensive training system would make the students feel that they were doing their share in a manner approved by the Government, and were justified in continuing their studies."(11)

The average age of entering college is eighteen plus. The average age of graduation, therefore, is twenty-two. The proposed conscription, therefore, immediately and inevitably led or would lead to the emptying of all college classes into the army, and also of preventing most men from entering college at all in the academic year of 1918-19. In order to forestall such a catastrophe the Act establishing the Students' Army Training Corps was passed. The Act of Congress, approved May 18th, 1917, an Act commonly known as the Selective Service Act, was amended by the Act of August 31st of the following year. It was of the utmost significance. It authorized the raising and maintaining by voluntary induction and draft, of a Students' Army Training Corps, and authorized the Secretary of War to form such Corps in educational institutions. The purpose in establishing these units was to utilize the plant, equipment and organization of the colleges for selecting and training candidates for office, and technical experts for service. Colleges and professional schools formed the body of the institutions in which such units were authorized. Their number was about five hundred, representing colleges and schools of almost every grade and condition. The colleges became, like the railroads, essentially government institutions. All students who entered the American colleges in the autumn of 1918, either as freshmen or as upperclassmen, being eighteen years of age and of physical fitness, became by their entrance, soldiers of the United States.

These students pursued a course of study which was either military or colored by military conditions. No less than eleven hours of each week were assigned for drill and work therewith connected. In addition fourteen hours of lectures and recitations were provided from subjects which had or might have a certain relationship to military affairs. These subjects included English, French, German, mathematics, physics, chemistry, biology, geology, mineralogy, geometry, meteorology, topography and map-drawing, astronomy, descriptive geography, hygiene, sanitation, psychology, mechanical and free-hand drawing, surveying, economics, accounting, history, international law, military law and government. From this score of subjects the student made such selection as the college officials thought fitting. One course, however, was required of every member of the Students' Army Training Corps, generally known as the underlying, ideas of the war; but this course was interpreted generously as standing for a course in the aims of the war, or in history, government, economics, philosophy or modern literature. It is to be noted that Latin or Greek or Biblical literature was not included in the course; and that German was included.

An essential military camp was established on every campus. The Campus Academicus became the Campus Martius.

All of these soldier students, or student soldiers, were required to live in barracks provided by the college and to have their meals at a common mess. The program of each day was essentially arranged as follows:

The requirements of the Government, moreover, went beyond the order of each day. It concerned the whole academic year as well. Each year was divided into four terms of three months each, beginning with the 1st of October. Each term was usually to be made a distinct unit of instruction by each college.

In the development of the Students' Army Training Corps the Federal Government approached more nearly than by any other method or measure to the German procedure of the control of the higher education. The distance was indeed immense, for the control of education by the State was and is a permanent Teutonic method. The State directs the course of study. The State determines the emphases in teaching and learning. The State appoints the professors. The State recognizes the truth of Bismarck's remark ---"that he who controls the schools, controls the future." The German State is the educational director. To the State the university teacher takes the oath of allegiance. His professional patriotism is a method of professorial advancement. For disobedience the State punishes him by removal or degradation or other penalty. Freedom of teaching is a somewhat ridiculous professorial liberty interpreted in the light of the State's directorship. For the generation previous to the outbreak of the war, history was made the tool of German patriotism and of the depreciation of other nations. Geography was transmuted into a scheme of colonial enlargement and aggrandizement. Anthropology became a method of eulogizing the racial Germanic dominance. Biography, essay, poem, was made a means of projecting Germanic ideals. The atmosphere of the schoolroom and of university aula was the atmosphere of pan-Germanism.

Such was the German autocracy in education, which, however, was thoroughly unlike the strictness and orderliness of American education.

The pecuniary provision made by the Government for each soldier student was generous. The Government paid tuition fees, provided lodging in the college barracks, board in the college mess, and uniforms, and gave him $30.00 a month as wages. The charge for tuition differs in different colleges, but assuming that this charge is $150.00 a year, the Government promised to pay for each student, $150.00 for tuition, $360.00 for lodging and board or $510.00, his wages of $360.00 and the cost of his uniform, making a total of at least $900.00. This arrangement formed the most generous provision ever made in the history of liberal education for the education of a great body of student soldiers. It had no precedent.

Four distinct groups of citizens were immediately and generally concerned with this academic revolution. They were the college faculty, the college trustees, the students, and the public. To this revolution the college faculties assented, if not with alacrity, at least with willingness and in coöperation. It was not, be it also said, the willingness of compulsion, but a willingness based on the assurance that this method represented one of the most effective forces for the winning of the great war. Faculties recognized as one of the advantages of the system the fact that the students felt a certain obligation to work, which under the individualistic system of the former time was somewhat foreign to certain groups.

Trustees too, shouldered the financial and administrative responsibility for housing and feeding these men with the same generosity with which they as private citizens gave to the "Y. M. C. A." or bought Liberty Bonds. The student, moreover, took, for a time, to this new life of the old and the new work, under unique conditions, with an enthusiasm born of a generous and direct interest. But be it added that the enthusiasm somewhat cooled after a few weeks. The number of students, too, was large. In fact, the enrollment in the freshman classes of the best colleges was far greater than had ever been known. It may be added that the cause of this increase was not to be interpreted as slackness. For these men as college students were subject to the same general terms ---of either hope or fear, and far more frequently hope --- of being drafted as if they had dwelt outside the college gateway.

The fourth group concerned with this revolution was the people themselves. The people responded to this change with an enthusiasm akin to that of the boys. Education has become the great human interest, and the American people recognized that this unique development of the higher form of this interest was fraught with the most tremendous potentialities for knowledge, righteousness, and power, individual and national.

In causing this transformation in the higher education, the Government was moved by at least three considerations. First, the giving of relief from overcrowding in the cantonments. Second, the promotion of efficiency. The efficiency was promoted by the elimination of the unfit and the discovering of the fit, and of the fittest for special jobs. For after a period, each man was assigned to military duty in one of the following forms:

(a) Transferred to a central officers' camp.

(b) Transferred to a non-commissioned officers' training school.

(c) Transferred to a school for intensive work in a specified line.

(d) Transferred to a technical training school.

(e) Transferred to a cantonment to serve as a private.

A third motive of the Government was the saving of the colleges from disruption. The draft would have gone a long ways toward at least the temporary dissolution of the colleges. No favoritism could or should have been shown by the government to the academic class. These men could not and should not have been made the subjects of exemption, as medical students were made, and properly made. Most men, too, would have declined to enter a college that thus exempted them. They would have felt the implied shame of cowardice. The men who joined the college were still open to conscription as were men without the academic walls. They were allowed to stay in college for a time, just how long that time would be no one knew. It might have been for a single quarter or term. It might have been for several quarters; but whether the time were long or short, many men would in that time have succeeded in getting the college touch and the college vision would have dawned upon their eyes.

In an effort to serve the college and in the purpose of the college to serve the nation a campaign for students was undertaken in each of the states. Conventions of college officers were called to promote general enthusiasm and to consider academic conditions. High school principals and superintendents were called on to quicken the interest of students in going on with their education. Parishes and churches were requested by the United States Committee on Education to present to their congregations the importance of both the higher education and of military service. Parents were encouraged to make all sacrifices necessary to keep their sons and daughters in school. Series of letters were printed by the newspapers interpreting and emphasizing the advantages of the higher education. State and local superintendents of schools employed the agency of their office in arguing for the value of an education of an advanced type. "It's patriotic to go to college"--- became the common educational war-cry.

Many and diverse were the arguments used in this campaign for the entrance of young men into the college, and subsequently, into the United States army. The War Department issued special circulars urging entrance and enlistment. It was declared that engineers, chemists, physicists and geologists were as important as riflemen. Liberal education and scientific training help, it was affirmed, to develop the qualities of research which are as necessary as narrow military efficiency. The entrance into college would prevent premature enlistment and would offer a proper outlet for patriotic zeal. The standards of education would be maintained and efficiency in winning the war promoted. The education and training thus given, effective in war, would also become precious assets in the time of peace. The individual student would be made fit for service in the world, not only in the ensuing months but for his entire lifetime. Said the Commissioner of Education:

"Not only is it necessary for the welfare of the country and the safety of our democracy when the war is over; it is equally important for the strength of our country while the war continues. We would all hope that the war may end soon, but it may be very long, and in war a people must prepare for every possibility. If the war should be long, there will be a great need in all the Allied countries for large numbers of men and women of the best college and university training for service both in the Army and in the industries directly connected with the war, and the colleges and universities of the United States must supply this need to a large extent for all the Allied countries. In some fields, as chemistry and the various forms of civil and industrial engineering, the demand for the trained men and women is already much greater than the supply. It is, therefore, a patriotic duty for young men and women who are prepared to enter college to do so and for those now in college to remain until their courses are completed, unless they are called for some service which can not be rendered so effectively by others. They should be encouraged to exercise that high form of self-restraint which will keep them at their studies despite all temptations for some more immediate service until they are prepared for the expert work without which the devotion and efforts of millions will be of little value.

"When the war is over and the days of reconstruction come, the call upon this country for men and women of the highest and best training for help in rebuilding the world will be large and insistent. For our own good and for the good of the world we should be able to respond generously. Conditions in this country and our position among the peoples of the world will require of us a higher level of intelligence and civic righteousness than we or any other people have ever yet attained. This must be insured largely through the education of our schools."(12)

The curriculum into which the student was introduced on his entrance into college was one of much detail. The program was in no small degree based upon the age of the students at the time of the opening of the colleges. The supposition was common that the war would continue for at least one year, and possibly for three or four. It was, therefore, determined that the older students of more than twenty years should remain in college only one term of twelve weeks; those who had reached the age of nineteen, two terms of twelve weeks each; and those of a younger age would possibly be allowed to remain for three terms. For those whose outlook was of the briefest or briefer duration, the subjects prescribed were of a narrower sort, being quite entirely military, embracing subjects determined by the service proposed. It might include air service, ordnance, engineering, military law and practice, surveying and map drawing and motor transportation. The curriculum was held to professional subjects. For men, however, of the earlier age of eighteen, a somewhat different program was prescribed of a broader type, but even in this broader type courses in military instruction and war issues were included.(13)

While these teachings were being given to no less than one hundred and fifty thousand men in about five hundred colleges, the gains and losses of this military-academic program became apparent. The gains, and there were gains, and losses, and there were losses, academic and personal, educational and administrative, occurred under an authority that was divided. The original college officers had charge of the regular academic work. The military officers were in supreme control of the military side. These two administrations were going forward upon the same campus and at the same time. Authority was divided. It was only because of the mutual respect of those concerned, that collisions were so few and so slight. Academic standards were arbitrarily set aside; academic methods were contemned; military standards, manners and methods were installed. Because of the exigency college presidents and faculties were inclined to give up to the military dominance. The officers who embodied these conditions were usually young men, themselves students in college, other than the college to which they were assigned. They were immature, without experience, unable to understand relationships and naturally inclined to the arbitrary enforcement of rules and orders. The War Department sought to avoid confusion and collision; but confusion was inevitable and collisions not uncommon. The command from the War Department that the officers should assist the educational authorities in securing from all men a full performance of their academic work had small meaning. Some officers were unfit to do their duty and they therefore did it with inefficiency, and with but little regard to either student or teacher.

While this work of military training, and of a certain type of liberal education, was going on, the armistice was signed. The stopping of induction was ordered November 14th, and a few days after, November 26th, a general demobilization of the one hundred and fifty thousand soldier students enrolled was ordered. The order for demobilization came as a surprise quite as great, and quite as disintegrating for the students as for the college itself. The suddenness was somewhat disastrous. The harm done by the issuance of the order was well indicated by Ex-President Taft:

"No institutions in our country have been more helpful to the Government in carrying on the war than the universities and colleges. From their students and recent graduates the War and Navy Departments have filled their training camps and recruited their officers. The greatest difficulty in making a republican army is in securing officers. The wonderful adaptability of the American college boy saved the situation for the first two millions. When the second two millions had to be raised and officered the Government in effect commandeered every collegiate school of learning and made it into a military school, an associate West Point or Annapolis. Rigid discipline was enforced under army or naval officers. Curricula and faculties were arranged to accord with the purpose, and the whole academic character of the institutions was abandoned to aid the Government in the war. Thousands and thousands of cadets have been launched on a year's training that would have made good material for young commissioned officers in the army. They have now completed nearly a third of the school year. The colleges and universities have made their plans for a full year.

With the armistice and the coming of peace, the military departments of the Government, it is said, propose to discharge these cadets and to break up the plans to which the whole college system of the country has committed itself for a year at great expense of time and money and effort. In the middle of the school year the cadets are to be thrown out of their courses and to be left without discipline and without definite aim or plan until next fall. This is greatly to be regretted. It is not fair to the colleges. They cannot resume their academic courses and life before next fall. It will leave them crippled and struggling for nine months. Mere money compensation, if forthcoming, will not be adequate. It is not fair to the cadets. A year's training of the kind already begun would be good for the boys and good for the country. It would be a useful step in beginning a system of universal training. It would save the country from demoralization of its higher educational work.

The cost to the Government of continuance until June would be small as compared with the waste involved in this sudden break up. It is not too much to say that the announcement from Washington is received with dismay by college authorities throughout the country. It may lead to a protest from them that the Administration will do well to heed.

If the unfortunate policy is adhered to, it will give well-grounded support to the charge that the Administration is afraid to do what it knows it ought to do, because it wishes to escape the demagogic and cheap criticism that it favors unduly those seeking a college education."(14)

The colleges had not only revolutionized their curricula, they had also expended large amounts of money in the construction of barracks and of mess halls for their soldier students, these costing from a few thousand dollars up to sums as large as at least $200,000. These structures were paid for out of the funds of the colleges themselves, under the assurance that the Government would finally compensate the colleges for such expenditures. After some months of delay, in some cases of more than a year, delays in many cases inevitable, however, the Government finally adjusted these accounts and usually to the satisfaction of the colleges concerned.

As one reviews this unique educational movement it is not difficult to count up its gains and its losses.

Among the gains is to be noted an increase in the formal courtesy and good manners of the students. The uniform may or may not be becoming to the individual taken by himself, yet, it is becoming and certainly impressive when it is seen upon a hundred or a thousand men. The manners of these men became more constantly such as belong to gentlemen. Salutations were given with greater constancy and freeness,---not that these items are at all of primary significance, but they do have at least some value, value inward as well as outward. For good manners in the college yard make the ordinary doings of life a bit more easy, and they, moreover, increase genuine self-respect.

It is also clear that the regular habits of the student camp tended to promote health. The habits of the older college men are not habits. They are, rather, violations, eccentricities, irregularities, conscious or unconscious. The college man sleeps at all hours or no hours at all. He eats at all hours or does not eat at all, and eats, when he does eat, what he likes. He exercises in such ways as please him and too often it pleases him not to exercise at all. He studies much or he studies little, and at such times and places as suit his daily and hourly convenience. Though such an interpretation appears to be a little too general, yet, there are scores of college men in every hundred to whom it can be fittingly applied. Contrast with such disorderliness a program such as obtained at most colleges: in which from the reveille at 6:45 and breakfast at 7:00, with drill at 7:30, every hour till taps at ten o'clock was occupied! Such a program promotes health.

Among these advantages was a third gain, to wit, students were well looked alter by the military collegiate authorities. The authorities knew where each student was, and how he was, and what he was doing with his time and with his own personal self. Supervision was constant and detailed. Such vigilance was quite unlike the old academic laissez faire. I know very well the advantages and disadvantages of each method. Laissez faire, improperly applied, develops rashness, waste, intellectual, ethical and not infrequently utter wreckage. Supervision, properly used, promotes economy in spending one's complete forces. Supervision, improperly used, applied too constantly or too closely, tends to promote the infantile mind and will, without vigor or directness of personality. It protects innocence; it kills achievement. I venture to say that the older colleges or at least many colleges of the older time, erred on the side of giving too little supervision or too great freedom. They thought the student was a man. He was, but he was not quite so much of a man as they were inclined to believe. Therefore, the faculty gave him an independence which he could not use well, and he wasted himself.

The military college may be inclined to use vigilance too constant or too exact, but the reaction from the older system was not unfitting. And this vigilance of academic conduct and bearing produced in the year 1918 good results.

Such watchfulness insured another gain. It was the gain of industriousness. The college man, made into a soldier, worked. He labored at his studies some eight hours a day or forty-eight hours a week. He labored at his drill some ten hours a week. Happy man! If he were poor, or semi-poor, in purse, he was not obliged to earn his living at 25 cents an hour. He was in the pay of the Government, and he was able to study. If he were rich, or half-rich, he had no leisure in which to spend money or to loaf. His mood was ---- Attention. The college man worked, and to teach men how to work effectively is also a chief end of higher education. It was proved that more work was done, and better work. This gain was both quantitive and qualitative. Yet, it is to be added, that this gain was vitiated by the interruption of the day's routine and also by a certain excitement under which the soldier student constantly labored.

Closely connected with this advantage was the advantage of obedience. The first duty of the soldier, whether that soldier be a student or an infantry man, is obedience. He is not under rules; he is under commands; he takes orders. The contrast between the directness and the apparent arbitrariness of the camp and the graciousness of a college of gentlemen is deep and wide. This obedience is to be prompt and absolute. Such a life is good for the soldier student for at least a time. It is well for him to be the subject or victim of penalty, and not to be the writer of excuses for absences. Indifference to law is an American failing. It is good for college men to obey law with promptness and exactness.

A further gain was also apparent in the increase in the democracy of the college. The soldier's uniform is typical. One of the first things which the authorities did to the men on their induction into the Students' Army Training Corps was to take from them their fraternity pins. One oath was administered, one mess was spread, one camp life was provided, one drill was required, one set of tactics was learned and practiced, one comprehensive duty was imposed. Of course, official individualities were respected. Of course, the life of the officer was made unlike the life of the man of the ranks. The distinction between the officer and the private was emphasized with a stress which the civilian does not understand, but such distinction was declared to be necessary for orderliness. Yet, the general zones and strata of social demarcations which, in some colleges have been too characteristic, were either wholly cut down or largely wiped out.

I also wish to refer to two more gains lying in a different plane from the gains accruing to the student body. One of the gains was found in the evidence which this transformation offered concerning the adjustability of the college teacher. Too often has this teacher been looked upon as unbending in his methods, fixed in his devotion to his scholastic ideas, and stiff in his interpretations of the means to be used in achieving results. Such has been the interpretation of the public. Those of us who live all our lives with college teachers have recognized that this interpretation was not so true as was commonly believed. The revolution proved that it was even more false than seemed possible. College teachers of Greek became chairmen of committees on building barracks and on running mess halls. Teachers of philosophy instructed in elementary French, and distinguished professors of Latin became interested in purchasing supplies for a post canteen. The professorial mind is not an unbending bar of steel, but rather, like water, it adjusts itself to the vessel which bears it.

A further advantage was also of a similar sort. It was the impression of the public that the college is remote from human concerns. The public has often assumed that the college was separated from human affairs, and that the academic mind was quite foreign to common interests. Of course, the belief was false, so false was it, that it seemed unworthy to speak of it, much less to attempt to remove it. But the revolution proved to all who would receive evidence, that every interest lying outside of the academic gateways is of deep concern to the teachers dwelling within these gateways. The college student and the college teacher responded to the call of the colors and of the nation as no other body responded,---and I do not depreciate any response,--- and such response the community not only recognized as normal and natural, but also eulogized as belonging to the human order of the heroic.

Such were some of the gains resulting from the academic revolution, and they were gains of great worth.

But there were losses also found in this academic revolution. These losses may be very largely put into the singular number. For the sum of them was a single loss. It was the loss of the higher education itself; it was the loss of culture; it was the loss of intellectual breadth; it was the loss of liberal learning. Various may be the names and diverse the expressions used to indicate the loss. It is the loss of a sense of relationships, of a certain intellectual freedom in knowing and in judging subjects, movements, men. A well-roundedness and balance, a power of reason, judgment, and large humanness, a sense of consideration for contrary principles and motives, means and methods, a willingness to listen and to reflect, a power of weighing evidence and of assessing truths and facts at a just value, a genuine intellectual altruism:--- these are and ever are the qualities and marks of the higher education which were brought into jeopardy. The higher education helps to make each citizen of the nation a freeman of the intellectual realm. Of course, breadth may easily become vagueness and liberty, looseness,--- as easily as individuality may become eccentricity; but to preserve the value of breadth and of liberality without narrowness, is the goal of the higher education. Yet it may be at once said that culture or cultivation is secured as much by the teacher as by the subject taught, be the subject even the great literatures or philosophies. For a boor may so teach Greek as to create boorishness; and a scholar may so teach carpentry as to promote scholarship and to nourish scholars. It is easy to believe that several of the required military subjects, taught with a sense of relationships, would always tend to develop men of great thoughtfulness and appreciation, of genuine education and culture.

Though this comprehensive loss was chief, yet there occurred also two minor disadvantages. One was the lack of initiative, and the slightness of opportunity for individual study and for personal independence. Each day, as I have said, was a program through which the students marched with the regularity of soldiers. To vary from the system, save for an exceptional and imperative reason, was impossible. Good as this system was for some men of the loose intellectual type and of moral laziness, it was for others, the worst possible process. It made the lock-step in education.

Another disadvantage lay in a wholly different realm. It was the lack of that culture and inspiration which comes from the formal services of religion. Of course, the camp had its religious rights and societies. Every regiment has a chaplain or chaplains. The "Y. M. C. A." in many and diverse ways performs a great service. Yet that place which the college chapel fills in the usual academic order was lacking in the military college. Religion in college should represent the broadest teachings. It should embody at least these four principles: love as the law of life; the perfectability of the race; the personality of God; and the immortality of the individual soul. The atmosphere which clusters about a proper daily chapel service, the military college lacks, and cannot do otherwise than lack. Such a service represents not only religion as such, but also religion as an inspiring part of culture and a necessary element in the character of the noblest individual man.

I should perhaps refer to one further condition which resulted from the academic transformation, which may be said to lie in the educational "No Man's Land." It is found in the condition of the ordinary undergraduate undertakings. These undertakings had become in the earlier time too numerous and too compelling. Avocations had displaced the vocation of the college undergraduate, yet, the avocation had and has its functions to perform. The college newspaper and magazine, daily, weekly, monthly, the musical and dramatic clubs, the debating and literary societies, the athletic associations, these and many similar organizations and forces ceased to be, or at least ceased to live a vigorous life. To some students these informal forces formed and form the best of the college. To others they serve as leeches, drawing away the real academic blood. But whether for good or for ill, they practically ceased to function in the Students' Army Training Corps.

Chief among such academic by-products is found the college fraternity. Next to the organization of the individual class, these societies of the students are the most important of all associations. They form a cross section of the academic life. The fraternity includes freshmen as well as seniors. It also goes beyond the day of graduation. Its alumni associations form an important part of its organization, giving counsel and support, financial and personal, to the undergraduate chapter. With the establishment of the Students' Army Training Corps the fraternities closed their houses or at any rate, curtailed their activities. The requirements that the soldier students should live in barracks forbade the use of houses for dormitory purposes. The few members not eligible for the training course by reason of age or of physical disability, used them; and in the few free hours of the day the men in khaki came to them as a place of refreshing. But for the first months of the college year of 1918-1919, they became rather a liability than an asset. On demobilization they resumed their normal functions. It may now be said that the fraternities in the American colleges have, as fraternities, taken a great part in the war, no less than one-fourth of all the members of some fraternities being enrolled. If their members went forth as students and undergraduates of individual colleges, they also found deep inspiration and cause of hearty gratitude in their fraternity association. In their quarterly and other journals, the fraternities kept in close relationship with their brethren over-seas.

A proper summary of all the comprehensive and diverse conditions establishing the Students' Army Training Corps is found in a personal letter, and yet not so personal as to forbid its present use, written a few days after the demobilization of the larger share of the corps, by the Secretary of War. Mr. Baker says:

"The Students' Army Training Corps was, of course, primarily organized for military uses, but I was especially happy that such an arrangement turned out to be feasible because it seemed to me to be a way of keeping a large number of our American colleges from entire dissolution, and gave some promise of continuing academic traditions of the country during the war. It seemed to me that if the war was to go on for several years we would come to a situation in this country of having almost no academically trained men over a period of three or four years. Serious as this loss would have been in itself, a still more serious consequence of it would have been the break in the pursuit of the liberal studies, for the released army would undoubtedly have gone eagerly to scientific and the so-called more practical courses, while the liberal studies of language and literature would have had a struggle to regain. their places.

"I think there are some compensations of the kind you suggest. Our Army experience has taught a good deal about the health of young men, and while I am by no means clear that we can get the same sort of zeal among college students for military training in times of peace as we got when there was an immediate war objective ahead of the men, I still feel that there are some things for the colleges to learn from the training camps, and they are particularly the things implied in the soldier's motto of keeping one's self 'fit to fight.' I share your feeling, too, that the discipline and courtesy of the military establishment are handsome attributes in the normal relation of young men to one another and to their instructors, and I hope it will be found possible for us to retain some of these habits as a permanent gain."(15)

In a further letter written July 19th, 1919, Secretary Baker gives a benediction to the colleges: --

"The settlements recently completed between your institution and the United States Government terminate the contractual relations entered into last autumn for the purpose of carrying into effect the plan of the Students' Army Training Corps. While that plan was a logical if not imperative step at the time when it was undertaken, when a long war appeared to be in prospect, and when it was necessary to mobilize the entire energies of the nation, the signing of the armistice on November 11 prevented it from ever being fully carried into effect. The abrupt termination of the S. A. T. C. before sufficient time had elapsed for its complete development, the interruptions due to the influenza epidemic and to other conditions incident to the early stages of organization, created difficulties which could not fail seriously to disturb the order of academic life. I am, therefore, glad of this opportunity to express to you my recognition of the patience, devotion and skill with which both teachers and executives played the parts which they were asked to play. The proposals of the War Department almost invariably met with a prompt and cordial response, and a willingness to make very genuine sacrifices where these seemed to be required by the nation's military need."

While the Students' Army Training Corps was performing its important functions on the college campus, undergraduates and graduates were enlisting in the service at home and overseas, and were doing the duties which belong to enlisted men on training ground and in camp. They had, also, for a year and a half, been already enlisting. The numbers of such enrolled from the alumni and students of each college and university it is impossible to learn with fullness and accuracy. Indeed the number of such men is not usually known to the colleges themselves. For graduates enlist and fail to inform the college; and even if colleges are informed, records are behind the facts of enrollment and of service. But from reports made by colleges and universities it is estimated that not far from 180,000 graduates and undergraduates were enrolled in the service of the United States outside and beyond the Army Training Corps of the autumn of 1918. They were found in all 85 branches of the service.(16) Of course the infantry included the largest share, but the artillery galled out a peculiarly commanding response in the men of trained brain. Of this number of 180,000, about one-third were undergraduates. The 120,000 who had received their degrees formed about one-third of all living graduates. The proportion enrolled was simply immense, especially as one considers the number of graduates who were ineligible by reason of age or of physical disabilities. From no section of American society was poured forth so large a proportion of soldiers. The reasons for an offering so magnificent are intimated in the first chapter.

The number of college men, however, both undergraduate and graduate, who entered the service it is impossible to state with accuracy. The following table is based largely on figures approved by the several hundred colleges and universities concerned, and also in part on estimates furnished by the institutions themselves, or by others knowing the academic conditions. For it is to be acknowledged that many colleges themselves are ignorant of the number of graduates or former students who were enrolled. The institutions of each State gave the following quotas: --

These tables serve to call out certain impressive inferences.

The statistics prove the active loyalty of college students and of college graduates. They give no intimation of a fugitive and cloistered virtue. They convey no suggestion of remoteness from human concerns or of indifference to human problems or of contempt for human sufferings. They disprove the occasional and loudly expressed belief, or the quietly held suspicion, that the college youth of America are characterized by gilded superficiality (and not a very deep gilding either), by contemptuous thoughtlessness, and by unreasoning selfishness. They prove that the college heart, the college mind, the college conscience, are as sound as oak, as true as steel, as pure as the best diamond.

The statistics also give evidence of the worth of the American system of the higher education. This system has been passing through transformations. From the classical to the scientific, from the ancient linguistic to the modern linguistic foundation, from the natural sciences to the social sciences, has proceeded the academic movement. Content has been altered, emphasis transferred, methods changed. But the purpose has remained deep and permanent. The moving spirit has suffered no "sea" or other "change." To educate their mind to think, to promote reflectiveness as a mood, to transmute knowledge into wisdom, to train the heart unto tenderness without gushingness, to give a sense of aspiration without visionariness, to make sympathy broad without becoming thin or artificial, to give delicacy to the moral nature without over-refinement, to discipline resistance without stubborness and firmness without obstinacy, to give to character graciousness without obsequiousness, to the gentleman aggressiveness without obtrusiveness --- such are some intimations of the purpose of the higher education. These purposes have been maintained. The higher education has kept watch to insure the integrity of the individual conscience and the soundness of the individual intellect. The result is superb.

A further inference, of a broader and more immediate significance, relates to the essential worthiness of the American society whence are drawn these youths. They are in a sense picked youth. They represent a saving remnant of a long educational process of their generation and of generations preceding. Each of them is perhaps one in thirty of the companions who began their primary school with them. Yet they are in fact part and parcel of the whole community. From their integrity we have a right to infer the integrity of the whole group whence they have been drawn.

One further inference is to be added. It is the inference that the governors of the American colleges may, in modesty, give to themselves heartiest congratulations. The teacher in the American college, in becoming a teacher, gives up many of the prizes of life which allure not a few of his contemporaries and comrades. He surrenders every hope of wealth. He knows he is to be contented with a simple competency. He crushes out any desire, even if he ever had one, of general public distinction. Yet he does put before himself the belief that he is, in quietness, educating men to think clearly, that he is inspiring men to make a life rather than a livelihood, and that he is training leaders for the more public concerns which he is not privileged to undertake. These rewards are more precious than rubies. His class room becomes a gateway to the field of broad service. His chapel talks may be recalled in straightening out a battle line or in obeying a military command. His personal counsel may aid in planning a campaign, civil or military. These and similar rewards of the college teacher --- the real force in the American college --- are also rewards which belong in their proper share to every trustee and benefactor. They are rewards, moreover, which are given to all who are privileged to aid in making the American college a teacher of wisdom in and for a democratic government and a creator of forces for service on land and sea, under the sea, and in the air.

The service offered by the officers of the colleges was quite as impressive as that rendered by the students and graduates. The enrollment was made up of professors of each department and by deans, presidents and other executives of every order. Of all departments, the medical naturally furnished the greatest proportion. Of every one hundred officers who entered the service more than one-half were found to be medical --- physicians, surgeons and. teachers. The assignment to their new work was usually made on the basis of their special training and preferences. Teachers of surgery became heads of surgical units in the field or in base hospitals. Teachers of bacteriology and of public health were enrolled as health commissioners in Roumania and Servia. Teachers of pathology set up their laboratories at Rouen. Teachers of ophthalmology were drafted as special examiners in the office of the surgeon general. Teachers of nervous diseases cared for large areas of distressing illness in American camps and French cities. Teachers of dermatology gave their wisdom in criminal and other most serious problems. Teachers of pharmacology found abundant opportunities for the compounding of drugs. Teachers of pediatrics were busy with the problems which war creates in children. Teachers of physiology and psychology found the crises made by shellshock most compelling. Teachers of preventive medicine were required to inspect drinking water and other health conditions as presented in many camps. In other fields than the medical, equally important services were given. Professors of botany were drafted into the examination of botanical war products and into work for the United States Agricultural Department. Professors of chemistry were called into chemical research; professors of physics into the study of methods for submarine protection; professors of transportation into work for the War Board; professors of anthropology into the laying out of camps; professors of forestry into experimenting on farms and in forests; professors of law into service as judge advocates; professors of politics and government into lecturing on patriotism; professors of lumbering into estimating the cost of building ships and camps; professors of French into teaching conversational French to nurses and doctors. Such assignments were normal, natural and were also proved to be effective.

But other assignments were made, which were indeed less normal and proved to be far less effective. It is not hard to present examples. Professors of geology were commandeered as inspectors of fabrics. Professors of astronomy were made instructors in language. Professors of economics were selected as instructors in military science. In the early stages of the war, in France, under the democratic influence, discrimination of ability for duty was not practiced. A French professor of chemistry, the recipient of a Nobel prize, was in one instance made the guardian of a bridge. But in general, be it said, assignments were made with discrimination. It is to be added, moreover, that the power and worth manifested in one department of teaching and research often seemed to prepare the worker for service in a department apparently quite unlike or unrelated. The method of learning and of teaching was proved to be more important than the content of instruction. A mind well educated is able to turn itself with ease and effectiveness unto problems lying in other fields than those of its own peculiar cultivation. The higher education consists less in having learned than in ability to learn.

Both in the camp and on the campus, college officers usually manifested a spirit of coöperation. This coöperation belonged, not only to members of their own class, but also to the class unacademic. Professors are usually individualists. In the war professors learned the art of team play, as thoroughly as the football team learns it on the gridiron. Professors are usually experts in their own field, and in no other. In the war they learned that their own scholarly attainments were to be united with the equally scholarly attainments of other experts. They learned to deal with all sorts and conditions of men: to be patient with both presumption and stupidity, to be forebearing with ignorance, to work with laziness, to be gracious toward selfishness,---in order to get the best results out of conditions favorable or unfavorable to one's immediate or remote purpose.

The duties thus assigned were usually done with both judgment and enthusiasm. One teacher, a professor in the Massachusetts Institute of Technology wrote:

"Am very busy, with nothing but engines, gears and cranks and wheels from morning to night. It is easily the most interesting work I ever did. Ah, but this is the life. I am beginning to realize that I never lived before --and I may not live much longer. You don't know how it sets a man to thinking, when a heavy T. N. T. bomb drops near him in the night time in the streets of a great city. It does not make him afraid; it simply makes him lose his respect for mankind.

"But it is all for Liberty."(17)

Another teacher having charge of French refugees wrote: "But men may come and men may go, the stream of 'Rapatriés' goes on forever, with all its joy and pathos. Some 1,500 per day hereafter being absorbed into France and cared for tenderly by weary, plucky, courageous France, who has not begun to get to the limit of her resources, in my, judgment, and would fight on for ten years, if necessary, paying whatever price is necessary for victory. . . . The French people go right on absorbing at the rate of 1,000 to 1,500 a day, the lame, the blind, the halt, the sick, the young and the old and the insane that Germany is sending them, including many other fine people, but no able-bodied men and very few able-bodied women, except those with small children. Have carried eighty-four people so far to-day, one hundred yesterday and more the day before."(18)

In the midst of this outpouring of loyal and of royal service on the part of the colleges and of individual teachers, were heard occasional notes of either rebelliousness or of indifference. Suspicions of disloyalty on the part of teachers were, though infrequently, held. Such suspicions gave the government reason for watchfulness. In certain instances, these suspicions proved to be unfounded. In other instances the evidence was sustained. Hugo Munsterberg, Professor of Psychology in Harvard University since the year 1892, a man born in Germany and educated in German institutions, at one time a professor in the University of Freiburg, was under constant surveillance. His death has not removed certain evidence of his coöperation with the Kaiser's government. The only instance that has come into the public notice, of the removal of a college executive, was found in the presidency of Baldwin-Wallace, a college of Ohio. After an investigation, made by a special committee of Methodist bishops --- the college itself being of that denomination ---the president was removed from office. The purpose of the removal was at least two-fold, to serve as a warning to academic executives and professors and also as a guarantee of the patriotism of the Methodist Episcopal Church.

In general, however, it is to be firmly said that the officers in the American college who remained at their desks and their duties were as loyal, and, some of them at least, as useful by address and essay, as well as by conferences and conventions, as their brothers who went forth into the field, or who worked directly in their laboratories on munition formulas. They kept the academic home fires burning. They gave wisdom in counsel, strength to the will, and courage to the heart of the individual and of the community.

The contribution thus made by men and women, teachers in American colleges, was as diverse as the forces and conditions that constitute warfare or that compose the American college. The devotion thus given was of the highest quality. It stood at once for duty and for honor. Like their younger sons, they held not their own lives dear unto them. Some did not return to their desks or their books, and some of those who did return bear in body and in spirit the lasting marks of their inferno.

The spirit of the student soldier who entered the service was one of intellectual understanding. He appreciated the issues personal, national and international, which were wrapped up in his enrollment and commitment. To this understanding and appreciation was added a willingness to do all and to be all essential to the securing of the war's ultimate purpose. One would hesitate to say that these great comprehensions were the property of the student only. They belonged to all citizens, yet it would not be unjust to intimate that the understanding made by him was at least as definite and considerate as that belonging to many. Of course the simple element of heroic enthusiasm and devotion is an integral part of all true and worthy men. Such a deposit is a common part of our common humanity.

In the mind and heart of the collegian was found a mighty determination to fight until the proper victory was won. The purpose was well put into some singing verses by a graduate of Western Reserve University near the time of America's entrance. Edward Bushnell wrote these lines which were sung in many army camps: ---

Such verses were expressive of the grip of the will of the college man to fight it through whether it took all summer or all winter.

Both before and after enlisting the simple democracy of the army was made plain. This democracy belonged in the first place to the privates in the ranks. Of course, a lack of democracy characterized the relationship between the officers on the one hand and the privates on the other; but equality and fraternity did distinguish those of similar military condition. Among the men in the ranks, the human was the chief note of their song. A British mother wrote in the preface to "A Midshipman's Log" saying, that among those who are fighting for their country and for the triumph of right and justice, there could be no class or distinction. The members of the privileged class were privileged only in being leaders --- first in the field, and foremost at the post of danger.(19)

A son, too, of distinguished American parentage bore out of his experience similar testimony. Victor Chapman wrote in September of the year 1914 saying: "The people I am thrown with are, for the moment, Polish in majority, for they are a crowd which came together from Cambrai. But they are of almost all nationalities and all stations and ages of life. I am most friendly with a little Spaniard from Malaga. He has been a newspaper reporter in London and got tired of doing nothing there, so he enlisted here. So far as I have seen I am the only American (the others having been sent to Rouen a day or two before I enlisted), but I have seen a couple of negroes. There are about thirty Alsatians, a few Russians and a few Belgians, one or two Germans, a Turk, and even a Chinaman arrived this morning. There are Greeks and Russian Jews, and probably many I have not noticed."(20) His experience illustrates the remark in the New Testament that God "hath made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on all the face of the earth."

The whole college order was also pervaded by great sympathy for the suffering, the sorrowing, the afflicted; and not only with those who were thus sadly conditioned, but also for all men as men. With this sympathy was united a mighty desire for power to serve. Deep emotional excitement may atrophy, in weak natures, the force of the will. Such a cutting of the nerves is not liable, however, to occur in the experience of college men; for they have been tempered in the schools not only of learning, but also of observation, of suffering, and of rejoicing. An American schoolmaster wrote from an American hospital in France of his routine: "I begin every night at eight and work twelve hours without stopping a moment. I wouldn't miss it for the world. We've taken everything in the way of wounded, mostly Americans, but also French, Moroccans, Malays, and all conditions from slightly wounded to the pitifully maimed remnants of human life, wrecked beyond all hope. I have been stretcher bearer, have helped undress and bathe the wounded, taken them to the X-ray room, and to the operating table, held their hands while ether was administered, and at the bedside, getting them ready for the rest camps farther back. In all this labor of love, which is real work, I have heard not one murmur of complaint, only words of enthusiasm and a desire to get back into the game. People say they are 'magnificent,' but we have no word yet coined to describe the spirit of our fighting and wounded soldiers. It is beyond analysis and almost divine. It makes you want to drop on your knees and thank God for the power he puts into his children to bear their suffering with such fortitude and courage. One longs for arms of limitless extent to take the whole blessed lot of them next to his heart and tell them how proud is America and the whole world of their valor and strength, and how all of us love them and are determined that they shall win. I have learned to pray as I never prayed before for power to see this glorious work through to the end, power to be of the utmost service to our men and their brothers whose ideals are ours, and but for whose tremendous sacrifice and heroic defense the human wolves would have been at our own doors. Folks at home do not realize that the war is on, but here in a military hospital! Oh God, it's here we get the taste! I am going every night till I leave the front.

"School teaching isn't in it with this work. To kneel before a hero and untie his shoes, and to get a smile from a wounded man lying between sheets for the first time in seven months; to get a word of thanks from one to whom you have given a tin cup of black coffee, is a greater reward than all the pay that all the combined schools in the United States could give. We are all working our very heads and feet off. I can't write more now, though I am so full of it I am nearly bursting. I must get some rest for the long night ahead." Such a union of sympathy with a power to relieve the wounded and to give succor to the dying was the not infrequent experience of the best college soldiers.

The simple joy and exultation of it all seemed to belong with a peculiar rapture to the college man. One of distinguished name wrote to his sister: "I hadn't realized until lately what a wealth of thrill, and tense joy, I had been missing in the tame student days. Whenever a flare or star shell lights up No Man's Land at night, turning every twig and stone into crystal, sharply outlined against a jet black sky and ground, it gives me a feeling of wonder and throbbing excitement that is different from anything else. I hope it will not become ordinary too soon."

Yet, in this exultation of the soldier, the student easily habituated himself to things as they come and go. He became a worshiper at the altar of the God of things as they are. The outer service seemed to transform the inner man. He is not what he was. The following confession of a Harvard man, purposely made anonymously, is almost as representative as it is impressive: "Until last winter I was, I suppose, what most of the world calls a rich young man. That is to say, I had enough money to avoid worry about the ordinary luxuries of life. A great many doors of society were open to me by reason of long-formed family associations. I went to a very fashionable boarding-school, and afterwards to a large university.

"My chief interests were æsthetic ones, and my college days, aside from the friendships of them, were valued accordingly. I studied hard enough to keep a keen interest in these things, and what I didn't know, I 'bluffed.' Society is gullible. I talked about Zuloaga twice before I saw his paintings. With beautiful fluency and complete ignorance I discussed the 'Agamemnon' of Aeschylus, the 'Thoenissae' of Euripedes, hydraulic machinery, the Shinto religion, St. Paul, the Russian government. It made no difference; I knew a little, I bluffed superbly, and I revelled in the joy of 'holding' dinner tables. So you see how it was --- everything to look forward to, little to regret. Life was good; friends were many.

"When the war came I was considering literature as a profession. I tried for a commission immediately, but unfortunately missed it. Influence didn't work. So now I'm a 'buck' private.

"I sleep in a tent, stand in line in any weather for 'chow.' I dress, because my work demands it, most of the time in overalls, and I do what I'm told. I have emptied garbage cans and cuspidors, chopped wood, shovelled coal, dug holes, done clerical work and carpentering work. I have been yelled at by irate 'non-coms' for being a fool.

"They were quite right. A fool is one who is ignorant, you see. I can tell you things about the meals at Agathon's house, when Socrates dined, and drank from the wine cooler, but I had no idea until quite recently how to do a great many of the jobs I've mentioned. I remember reading, by the way, F. W. Taylor's 'Principles of Scientific Management.' It tells you among other things, how to shovel with a minimum of effort and for a maximum of results. But when you are one of three men who are getting coal out of a freight-car that must be moved in two hours and a half, you forget what he said or wonder if he ever shovelled. Of course, I drilled awkwardly too. They were quite right --- I was a fool.

"The physical hardships of such a life one quickly becomes used to. If it is cold, you learn to sleep with your clothes on. If there is no chance to bathe, why, of course, you don't bathe. If you get wet, you curse a bit, and remark to your nearest neighbor that you are 'out of luck.' This phrase embodies almost the complete philosophy of enlisted men. It's not so unsatisfactory; it has the virtue of truth. And if you're not fatalistic enough to accept the verity that you are, and are going to be, either in or out of luck, the remark may be used perfectly correctly as a consolatory, flattering, or challenging comment or simply as a pleasantry. Indeed life is reduced to almost a purely physical basis. Obedience is required, but intellect sufficient only for obedience.

"The ethics of the men in the ranks are a fair enough sort. They do not allow much meanness; they preach generosity and obligingness. But they do include, not necessarily of course, blasphemy, foulness, intoxication. It's up to the gods, the average soldier thinks, whether you are what can fairly be termed a good man. As long as you do what you're told, your morale may be what you please, Caligulan or Christian. Of course there is little of the spiritual in camp. You may have loved Dante's 'Inferno,' but you read wireless code-books or Captain Parker's notes. You realize that Dante lived a very long time ago; and that he is dead. You remember arguments you had in college, near some hospitable fire, about Plato's idea of the Abstract or Thomas Aquinas's of Immortality. Omar's line comes back to you --- you did 'come out by the same door that in you went.' The four brown walls of canvas are still around you. The concrete remains. It doesn't matter if you would like to go to the little French restaurant with so-and-so, and talk about 'Comus' or what a shabby way Bacon treated Essex. 'Fall Out.' You proceed to do so, and are armed with a shovel, or a bucket or a monkey-wrench."(21)

This spirit of adjustment is a part of the American quality, but the American quality is much more. It is a quality of exultation and exhilaration. The American spirit is the intellectual quality touched by enthusiasm. A student who was accepted by the Foreign Legion of the French Army, writes to a professor in his college: "Your poilu has burst his cocoon and stands glittering before the world --- an Aspirant. He is proud of himself --- and more at peace than ever before in his life. . . .

"You ask me to tell you the commonest events of my life. I doubt whether that will be possible, for I have chosen a 75 attacking battery, but I shall keep a moment-to-moment journal for you and for others to whom I am not afraid to reveal myself. If I get through safely we'll laugh over it ---and if I pass out, it will be sent to you.

"Before this reaches you I shall be at the front. I regret that it will not be with my own . . . . They are wonderful, and Europe is breathing a new air because of them. They have the vision ---and the dreams of old men are coming true. I wish I could tell you the great pride and faith and elation the recognition of their spirit gives us. To be an American is to-day the proudest thing in the world. But even when one is not fighting as one of them --- even though he wears another color, he is fighting with the American spirit and the American dream. Do you wonder that I am perfectly at peace with myself?

"It is with such emotions that I go to the front. Think of me as having believed something passionately enough not to have accepted rejections, as having found a place for myself when it was refused me time and again, as going into the fire with head up and laughing lips because I am an officer of France and an American. And if I'm killed don't call me 'poor fellow.' I shall deserve better than that."(22)

Such enthusiasm is representative, interpretative, and contagious. It might give the impression of being transient like the white crest of the breaking wave, but it was really more sustaining and proved to be more permanent than seemed possible. The student soldier took the long look and also did the nearest duty. A North Carolina student wrote to the president of his university, Dr. Graham, a beloved president who died recently, saying: "I am about to leave for France, aware what going there means, and glad to go. Before I go I want to send my love to you and Carolina, because you two both send me and at the same time make me hate to go, because I cherish you with the same love I bear my parents. I am not a single-purposed man; If I have one dominant desire I don't recognize it. But the resultant of all my desires to live and to serve is a purpose to fit myself to come back and serve through Carolina. This purpose I have, of course, subordinated to what the army may require of me until peace is won. But I am fighting to stop Germany, and not for the joy of fighting. I hate war and its whole stupid machinery as much as I love its opposite --- the free creative life of Carolina. I don't intend to run from the fact that war is wrong any more than I intend to run from war itself because it is painful.

"Therefore, while I am glad to serve in this war, I still maintain that peace is right and that it must be developed by training and organizing man for peace even better than he is now trained and organized for war."

The spirit of the American student soldier was quite akin to the spirit of the men of Oxford and other British universities, of the University of Paris, and of the provincial universities of France. All were touched by the same patriotic enthusiasms, by the same sense of romance and of freedom. These sentiments were, be it confessed, like unto the sentiments of the German university students in their love of "Fatherland." But how remote were these enthusiasms from the Germanic in their sense of freedom! For the Anglo-Saxon has been trained in a school of personal honor and of truth-telling. The English and the Americans have been taught to hate spying and lying and to despise the spy and the liar. The English and Americans have been trained to play games and to take part in sport, not simply as hygienic conditions, but for and of manliness. They have been educated in the atmosphere of freedom; and the German student has been trained in the prison house of unquestioning obedience to the state.

It was a great spirit which dwelt in the heart of the soldier student and which prompted him to noblest action. It was a spirit of intellectual understanding and of emotional appreciation of the issues of the war. It was also a spirit of willingness to make the ultimate sacrifice to win its victory. No determination was mightier than to stay in the service until barbarism was put down and civilization again enthroned. In this determination was found the spirit of democracy strong and regnant, a democracy not American only, but also human. In this sense of equality and of liberty was found not only a tender sympathy with the suffering and sorrowing, but also a sympathy which did not weaken the will for hardest service. In this sympathy lay also a peculiar rapture, an exultation in the opportunity to serve; and with this rapture went along a capacity for transformation of the lower manhood into the higher, a transformation characteristic of the best natures. The enthusiasm also, although not always keeping itself at white heat, seems to have been consistent with a prophetic outlook into humanity's future. The college man was in the ranks, as in the class-room, primarily the man of thought and of thoughtfulness. Putting on the uniform, he did not divest himself of his intellectual habit.

In this spirit of exultation, both emotional and intellectual, the student soldier lent himself to the primary element, military discipline. He gave himself to this process with more ease than the untrained man of his adolescent years. For, the college course itself was a process more disciplinary than the process of the home. Discipline represents not only obedience, but also the sinking of one's own individuality into a mass of individualities. Not always with ease, but with less of rebellion than usually exists, he submitted to the rules and regulations of the camp by day and by night. Not only to obedience as a first duty, but also to cleanliness, to honesty, to sobriety, to self-respect and other of the principal elements of discipline, he found himself in not unhappy accord. Of course, the soldier students, in many instances, became officers. As officers, they bore themselves as gentlemen. War is a brutalizer. The processes preparatory for and following the battle are brutalizing. Officers are inclined to be coarse in language, severe in their manners, abrupt and harsh in general relationships to the private. Such methods and manners were, on the whole, foreign to the student soldier. He had a sense of altruism above men unschooled. This sense, of course, he exercised without the peril of softness or of favoritism. He could be at once gracious and commanding, kind and severe, sympathetic and disciplinary. He was not inclined to create that most common element of the army, the element of fear. For fear as an inspiring force, he used the proper substitutes of pride in one's regiment or one's battalion, idealism, and enthusiasm for the cause. Comradeship, too, he cultivated, and, that element of the soldier in every man, hero-worship, he inspired, not so much for himself, of course, as for the highest commanders.