We had only been there a day or so when they began to inoculate us for, I think, every known disease. A big, fat, German Major stood there and in apparent delight, pumped serum into us like a baker fills creampuffs. The worst part was that he stuck us right in the chest. He was a good natured old duck who didn’t seem to take things seriously. Not only did he vaccinate us for smallpox, but he gave us shots of typhoid, para-typhoid, triple typhoid, typhus, tetanus and cholera, and what else I do not know. We were to have five jabs of the stuff, but when I took my first one I decided then and there that when I took the next it would be when I was held and given it by force. I never received another jab, for every time afterwards I went in with the in-going line, and after my chest had been painted with iodine by the Assistant to the Doctor, as the old boy would turn around to fill his needle for the next man, I would quietly step over in the outgoing line, and with many apparent indications of pain, passed to my bunk. Immediately after this first jab was given and before the pain and fever had a chance to take effect I was mixing around with the boys, having a good time, when in came a Sergeant who, amidst considerable pomp and display, stated that the Captain commanding the Camp wanted to see Oberleutnant Haslett at once. I asked him what the officer wanted to see me about, but he didn’t know and I’m sure I didn’t, although I had a good strong hunch. As I still had my yellow-striped uniform, I put it on and went over. On the way over the Sergeant sympathetically ventured to tell me for fear that I did not know it, that the German officers were terrible men, very strict and stern and it was to my advantage to be very careful and to be absolutely military and courteous. After considerable palavering around, the Sergeant ushered me in. Seated there at his desk was this potentate, the Commander of the Camp. I hardly knew how to figure him for he was a hard looking customer with the squinty eyes of a Chinaman, the pugnacious pug nose of a bull dog, and the mouth and jaws of an ape. However, he was groomed to the extreme. Take it from me, he was some little fashion plate all of his own. This was a combination, to my mind, extremely difficult to tackle. To be perfectly frank, he almost had my goat to start with. The thing that bothered me most was the charge. I was a soldier the day war was declared. The day before I had been a hard plugging law senior in the University of Southern California—just counting the days until I could realize my life’s ambition—to stand before a court and plead a righteous cause. While like all other young Americans I was happy to serve my country, yet at the declaration of hostilities the thing that hurt me most was the fact that my perfectly good legal education had all gone to the rocks for, as a soldier, I could not see where my law could possibly serve any useful purpose.