Not only did the missionaries suffer through long hours and rough working conditions, they had no pay and poor living quarters. The Mormon Church asks that its missionaries pay for their missions themselves; if they cannot afford to live for two years in a foreign country, sponsors for the missionaries will be found to underwrite the costs. Kimball, originally from Madison, Wisc., lived in a house in South Korea for $70 a month, a fee that included room, board, and laundry. Stromberg describes the places he lived in Japan with one word: "Dumps." And though the paint may be peeling in his Quincy suite, Petersen says, "It's much nicer than any place I lived in. "One had inch-long termites that flew around the room at night."

Though Davis paid $60 a month for a single room in Paraguay, he found that even the poorer families and houses had maids. "It's less expensive to work and hire somebody to take care of the house than to stay home and get no pay," he explains.

The missionaries also had to endure a lack of privacy and no female companionship. The rules of the mission require that missionaries stay away from women at all times, and the missionaries work in pairs so that each will have a "constant companion" for safety and spiritual strength.

The constant companion is literally that. Together for several months, "it's worse than having a wife," Stromberg says. "At least with a wife you can leave home and go to work."

During his mission, Stromberg found himself paired with a potato picker from Idaho, a reformed thief from Baltimore and a Japanese missionary who introduced Stromberg to the language, customs, and life he would have to lead. But Stromberg found it very easy to get along with his companions: "You forget a lot of yourself when you're working with somebody to accomplish a common goal that exists outside of yourself.," he says. "Especially one you're totally dedicated to and believe in."

* * *

Yet, despite all the hardships the four missionaries endured, and knew they would have to endure, all left school voluntarily. Kimball applied to stay in South Korea for two more years, but was denied permission. "The church has very strict rules," he explained. Why would he have stayed? "What I did was tell people, 'Look. Here's something I've found. It's helped me, and I think it can help you.'"

Scattered about the missionaries' Quincy House suite are remnants of their last two years. Stromberg now owns an amplifier he purchased in Japan for half of what it would have cost him here. He's saving for a turntable so he'll be able to play some of the Japanese records he acquired overseas. From Petersen's bedroom wall hangs a rug he picked up in Central America, and he's looking for a place to put some Indian dress quilts. Kimball wears a watch he bought in the Orient, and he likes to lounge around the room in a pair of Korean pants. Davis wears some sandals he brought with him from South America, and when the weather's right, he'll bring out a leather coat he purchased while on his mission.

All four plan to return after graduation to the countries in which they spent their missions, and when they go back they hope to know even more about those cultures than when they left: Stromberg plans to major in East Asian Studies, Davis in Latin American History and Literature, and Petersen in Anthropology--with special attention to Central American culture. Kimball, an Applied Mathematics concentrator, plans to use his studies to examine the Korean economy.

The missionaries have returned to a changed country. South Koreans, Kimball says, told him they were worried that Jimmy Carter would become president. All Kimball could tell them was "Who's Carter?" Stromberg caught a glimpse of a Newseek cover of Carter just before he left Japan, and wondered what "that farmer who was governor of Georgia" was doing there.

They've returned to a changed university. "The place is more all-American," Petersen says. "There are fewer people here who are brilliant and frustrated. More people seem to know what they've doing. And I see more pullovers and topsiders."

"I'd heard that Harvard was a radical place," Davis adds. "When I got here I couldn't understand why it had that reputation. But compared to today, yes, it was very radical."

The changes on campus bother Kimball. The Harvard he knew two years ago, he says, was a more cosmopolitan place. "The people I knew on the wrestling team freshman year were different, came from entirely different backgrounds, but now they all fit into the Harvard mold. I'm afraid that's what happens from being here."

But Stromberg was pleasantly surprised to find that many of his original classmates had matured, even though, he laughs, some didn't notice that he had left. "People here now seem more interested in me as a person; they seem more willing to extend friendships," he says.

And the reaction from those who noticed he had left has been positive. "Nobody's said, 'Were you crazy to do that?' They're interested in knowing why we went and the experiences we've had."

Even so, the four returned missionaries requested that they be roomed together. "We thought it would be easier on Quincy House," Davis jokes.

Stromberg isn't so charitable. "I don't think I could live with any other sophomores. I'm used to dealing with pretty unselfish people. Somebody that's caught up in his own classes or grades...I'd rather not live with something like that. Looking back on freshman year I can see now that there were more important things than grades, and I know I'll be less worried about them this year. And less serious about school in general."

Davis agrees. "I think we've all realized that Harvard is just one corner, and a small corner, of the world," he says.

The roommates say they've readjusted now and are settling into the looser student routine that they left two years ago, but with minor differences. Stromberg, for instance, sits at his desk for 15 or 20 minutes a day, and writes down the qualities he'd like to see in himself, and the flaws he'd like to eliminate habit he picked up on his mission, and he saves all the little pieces of paper he's scribbled on to see how far he's come.

Kimball, a varsity wrestler as a freshman, plans to try that sport once again. Davis will see if he can sing in the Glee Club. Stromberg is considering debate, but admits that his interest is not what it was three years ago. Petersen hasn't yet decided whether or not he'll play basketball as he did his freshman year. And as to whether or not Quincy House will see "Captain A+" this year, well, Petersen's not saying.