ONE STUDENT TYPE GONE

On the war side again, certain military regulations have forced a type of Dartmouth man out of existence. This man was the antithesis of the chubber. He was always in a beer joint or the movie theater or at a bridge table. And he never never exercised. The thought of any manner of athletic activity sent a shudder through his aesthetic frame. He was always at the football games, of course, but a bottle and not the ball was his prime interest. The fraternity house was his palace and he lolled there everlastingly. A punch on the jaw would have killed him.

But now all Dartmouth V-12 men almost kill themselves every day and come up quite alive. A physical training class is a part of every schedule and a student goes to one every morning or afternoon like any other class. He swims, he boxes, he wrestles and engages in a sort of mauling fest that shows him what to do when a Jap grabs him by the throat. It is not gentle. But undoubtedly it is good for him. And it makes every Dartmouth man more certainly approximate that ideal state for Dartmouth men that Coach Earl Blaik once termed as "rugged."

So although there are incongruities and complexities that come up in the combination of Dartmouth and the Navy, in the undergraduate's double role as undergraduate and future fighter, in the pairing of a college with a war post, it has injected a new spirit that is part of today and today's world. And perhaps the writer should not feel in such an awkward position.