LIEUTENANT JAWN

Ever since its birth soon after the World War, Harvard's Military Science course has been looked on both by the Army and by Harvard students as an easy way to spend four years. The Army tolerated the situation because the prestige of having R. O. T. C. units at the Big Three colleges seemed to justify easing the requirements. The students did more than tolerate it; they ate it up. The course was filled by boys who didn't particularly care about being officers, but who loved polo and appreciated the value of a good strong C--.

But within the last two years the Army has assumed a new importance. Now Freshmen flock into the beginning course because they want to learn to be officers, and the Department of Military Science, sensing that it no longer has to attract students with its horses, is waking up. The officer-instructors are handling out "unsatisfactory" grades right and left, and their exams are no longer the snap quizzes of the good old days. Only three cuts per year are allowed before the unwary slugabed finds himself outside the Army with the draft hot on his neck. Written work outside of class is demanded for the first time, and the neophyte warriors are actually learning the theory of firing the Field Artillery's guns and of giving commands.

The subject matter in the course, however, has not changed radically within the last twenty years, and to the peaceable observer, war seems to have jumped ahead of the school of the soldier. The pace of battle has been stepped up immeasurably. Airplanes have succeeded trenches as the outstanding factor in modern warfare. The blitzkrieg of today makes the First World War look like a walkathon by comparison.

As military men are quick to point out, however, the change is one of equipment, not of fundamentals. Tactics are essentially the same as they have been for centuries, in spite of bombs and armored tanks. The basic idea drummed into future U. S. generals both in the R. O. T. C. and in the regular army is "Get there fustest with the mostest men," only now there are faster methods for getting there and newer ways to keep the other side away.

In the matter of equipment the Harvard corps is woefully deficient. Eight French guns, vintage of '97 and little used in the army of '40, serve as the only life-size trainers at the Department's disposal. Once he leaves Soldiers Field, a graduate of Mil Sci may never see one of their kind again except on courthouse lawns. The newer, more efficient material is still "on order."

Yet despite the handicaps of limited training with outmoded equipment, the 1940 Harvard model of a second lieutenant will be a capable artilleryman. The course authorities make no claim to turning out finished officers. Six weeks of summer camp plus experience on duty after graduation must take care of the details. However, it is the Department's boast that their product will be the equal of any West Point graduate as a Field Artillery expert and as commander of a gun battery.