Things you'd never forget department; Scrambled eggs, mackerel and 0000-0400 watches notwithstanding, Company C activity has a generous quota of bright and funny moments which most of us will never forget. For instance, the "Stephenfetchit" shuffle and Alabama brogue of Douglas Folsom who perpetually and loudly defends the deep south and his ability to receive flashing light.... Arthur Bornfriend in the Harvard Union billiard room, strongly insistent on a three-cushion game at the start and then finally consenting to straight-rail after making one billiard in 15 minutes. "You should do seen me when I was good," shouts Arthur in that inimitable Bronx staccato.

And then there's John (Just-Call-Mepete) Harrington who would be a helluva story if he'd only talk for publication like he's scuttlebutted to talk in the privacy of almost anybody's quarters. John is an ex-G-Man, but when "grilled" about it he just says, "no thanks, old man, I never did go for that publicity stuff," and then turns on that "Jimmy Durante" smile of his.

And who could forget that handsome, super-relaxed Mississippian, Ben Hardy, who, incidentally, ain't slow when it comes to radio and radio code. "Twenty-five-a-minute Hardy," they call him around here.

And then there was the look on Harry Browne's face when he came hurrying up with a home-town paper and picture concerning his brother, Jules, a member of the Naval Air Force who recently received the Distinguished Flying Cross...the tolerant, squinty smile on the face of the grim Ben. Stephens when he lost a shoo in radio engineering and called his stockinged foot while leaning on the aft bulkhead of Langdell (he couldn't double talk his way out of that one)...the spectacle of the artistic Bernie lange trying to teach his roommates the involved wigglings of the rhumba...the worried expression on A. J. Gregory's face as he stood anchored in formation while a squadron of fire trucks rumbled and clanged around the Yard, stopped in front of Stoughton and shot a ladder up to the vicinity of his billet...the proud look on Mr. Gregory's face a day or so later when he walked smartly into the gun bin to turn in his piece and said, "My name's Gorham."...the sheepish grin on James Gwin Zea's face when a bunch of the boys referred to him as "the flag," and stood up as he sat down to chow at their tuble ONE day...the crackling sound of Bill Acker's voice after a particularly long session of "hip-toop-threep-fourping"...the blood-in-the-eye look of the tall, grizzled E. O. Homan when he thinks his leg has been pulled a little too hard....remember?