I stayed in Barracks B for three weeks, then the government sent down some big circus tents holding about one hundred and fifty, and we pitched them. We slept on cots for a change. Queer how we had to get used to them. Hanged if we didn't long for our hammocks. I remember one night when we had a bear of a storm--a regular gale--and sure enough the old tent began to leak. I happened to be on watch so I spent about two hours going around keeping a sharp lookout for leaks--there were plenty of them. As wet a crowd of boys as I ever saw came forth, and I sent them to the lecture rooms to sleep. Funniest looking gang, sleepy and cross, their blankets around their shoulders dripping water. They made a run for the deck. About twelve I woke my relief and started to turn in. There was no leak over my bed and I was half undressed when something rolled down my back. I beat it for the school. Not ten minutes later the whole tent collapsed, with thirty men in it. Rescue parties were formed, and the men inside needed it--a small Niagara had swept in on top of them. But no one seemed any the worse for it. We were a hardened lot by that time. I thought of the day I had left Baltimore and the way I had shivered with the cold--here I was, only a few weeks later, only half dressed, drenched to the skin and not minding it a bit. The training had done wonders for me. Next day a pile of lumber arrived--we carried it from the wharf to the Barracks and we were informed that after school we would find nails--plenty of them--one saw and one hammer for two hundred men to lay the floor, upright and erect tents before taps. Say, that was a staggerer! But orders were orders and we fell to. What did we do? Why, we got rocks or pipes or anything you could use for a hammer and with two hundred huskies working at top speed just to show the C.O. that they can do a thing once they make up their mind to it, we got those tents up that night right as a top! Luckily for me, my site was 'way up on Strawberry Hill, back of the hospital, and with the crackingest view of Narragansett Bay--and a distant glimpse of the Atlantic. It was a wonderful life up there. We'd become so used to outdoors that we used to talk about how strange it would feel to live in four walls again. We took everything as it came and enjoyed it. The government certainly did all in its power to make things comfortable. We used to wonder how the Sam Hill all the busy people up in Washington could keep every one of us in mind and see that we were all supplied. It is a queer feeling--that sensation that you don't have to worry about to-morrow or what it will bring, that you are clothed and fed and housed--and that your only problems are the ones that may come with the rising sun. Great life!