Kentucky men entered Camp Taylor at Louisville with books in their hands and determination to learn burning in their hearts. Many of them had had a taste, at least, of knowledge, and even when they had learned no more at the first aid stations than to write their names, had been provided with school supplies, pledged to continue their lessons, and placed under the instruction of some educated member of their group who promised to continue the teaching when they reached camp. In many cases they were accompanied by their moonlight school teachers, who had, themselves, been drafted out of their schools. Some, in spite of all precautions, escaped the moonlight schools and entered camp illiterate. Soldiers from Indiana and Illinois were quartered at Camp Taylor, also, many of whom were unable to read and write. The experiences of illiterate soldiers at Camp Taylor were identical, no doubt, with those in all the other training camps. It was a story of humiliation, handicap and discouragement and in many cases black and bitter despair. Their utter bewilderment added to the difficulties of an already complex situation, and so reduced the efficiency of the company or the squad that their presence was resented by some officers, who at every opportunity and upon the slightest pretext shifted the illiterates from their own to another company. The tables in the Y. M. C. A. hut spread with sheets upon sheets of white paper and envelopes were to the illiterate soldiers as a feast to which they had not been bidden. One soldier approached another timidly at a Y. M. C. A. writing table and said, “Will you back a dozen envelopes for me to my mother, please?” “Certainly,” replied the other, “but why a dozen? Are you planning to write her every day? You must be a dutiful son.” “No, these are to last me a year,” the soldier confessed. “I promised my mother that I’d get some envelopes backed and that once a month I’d slip a dollar bill in one and mail it to her and by that she’d know that I was still alive.” Some were too proud to confess their illiteracy or to ask for help, and their difficulties were multiplied. Some carried letters in their pockets for days before they could overcome their pride sufficiently to ask someone to read them. One soldier was sent to the guard house for disobeying orders, and after he had served his sentence, it was disclosed that he had disobeyed his orders only because he could not read them.