Within two weeks after President Roosevelt’s inauguration a bill to put a quarter of a million jobless men in Reforestation work was passed by Congress. The army didn’t want the task of taking over a mass of men twice its size, of butting in on the Forest Service, and of robbing the soldier of his peace time training. The army’s representative so stated to the White House. The reply was: “You have given all the reasons in the world why the Army should do this job. As a matter of fact all the reasons you state show that nobody else can do it.” The army got the job. The General Staff was wisely ready for that possibility. A month later at the rate of one thousand five hundred thirty a day, fifty-two thousand were enrolled, and forty-two camps had been established. Fifty-one days after that three hundred ten thousand had been enrolled. The rate of reception and caring for this vast number was greater than for both the Army and Navy during the World War. And this was peace time when the spirit, money and cooperation of the people were not so great. And what did the soldiers have to do for these men? Everything and more than a preparatory boarding school must do for its students. It had to examine them physically, classify them, clothe them, feed them, transport them, do all the work of paying them, put up their camps in the wilderness, and supervise their moral, mental and spiritual welfare and conduct. Army training stopped. The soldier had to put every ounce of his energy into the task and spent many sleepless, working nights, if it were to be a go. The little available army not one-eighth the size of those finally enrolled had to press these raw men from every walk of life through their new work in a fair and orderly way. The entering C.C.C. boys were of equal rank. There were no seniors, no foremen, no variations--just a crowd. They were not being received into any organization. The whole structure had to be built from the ground up. The situation was as strange to the soldier as to the C.C.C. boy. The only recourse the Army Officer had for keeping contentment, orderliness and efficiency were precept, example and expulsion from camp. He could not use even minor forms of correction. He wasn’t allowed to make the boy stand up, look one in the eye, or say “Yes, sir” or “No, sir.” It was a fearful handicap, when he was responsible for their safety, good order and reputation in a strange community. But the records show surprisingly little discord for the vast numbers taken in. The records also show how proper sanitation, a balanced diet, daily medical attention and patient supervision turned out. An inventory of one hundred ten camps reveals that the boys gained from five to twenty-seven pounds. Only five per cent left camp--a surprisingly small proportion when you realize that their main qualification was lack of a job. Under skillful guidance they developed rapidly. The white anemic faces and flabby arms of early