The first day I was in the hospital there was a fire. It was not serious enough for attendants to do anything but slam windows shut and stand by to carry out patients. Nearly everyone enjoyed the excitement except a few of the autumnal nurses and the poor fellows in the shell-shock ward. They suffered greatly for a few days from the effects of the unexpected disturbance which was to most of the other men a welcome break in their colorless existence. Of course one of the jobs of a V.A.D. was to be a merry sunshine, not difficult for me whose I.Q. is low enough to insure natural cheerfulness. Despite our best efforts time often dragged. I wonder if we might not have accomplished more if we had all been good-looking and especially, perhaps, if we’d all worn brilliant colors instead of our grey and white uniforms. It’s a pet theory of mine that color in a drab world can go a long way in stimulating morale. There’s a suggestion, here, perhaps, for the management of the next war. The monotony of the hospital prevailed with its food also. Even after ten years I am unable to look a jelly-roll in the eye. They were the diurnal diet in the officers’ mess, just as rice puddings prevailed in the wards. I have a depressing memory of passing out little rice puddings in endless procession from the diet kitchen to the patients. Sometimes they came back untouched but bearing crosses and the inscription R.I.P. However, those who rated rice pudding were entitled to ice cream—if they could get it. We K.P.’s often did the getting for the patients most in need of cheer. Our funds were immorally collected, the winnings of matching pennies in the kitchen. The war was the greatest shock that some lives have had to survive. It so completely changed the direction of my own footsteps that the details of those days remain indelible in my memory, trivial as they appear when recorded. Days of routine slipped by quickly enough into months of nursing. I hope what we did was helpful. Somebody had to do it. There is so much that must be done in a civilized barbarism like war. [Illustration: description: Photo close medium 3⁄4 view shot studio portrait of Amelia Earhart with signature below image text: UNDERWOOD & UNDERWOOD STUDIOS N.Y. caption: Amelia M. Earhart ] [Illustration: description: Photo close medium 3⁄4 view shot outdoor portrait of Wilmer Stultz wearing flight gear caption: WILMER STULTZ © _International Newsreel_ ] War followed one everywhere. Even entertainments weren’t always merely fun. Often they meant having tea with a group of women who were carrying their war work into their homes. I remember, for instance, hours spent with a power sewing machine making pajamas.