Publisher's Synopsis
Once when I was an enthusiastic freshman (it seems ages ago) I joined a Latin society that had for its inspiration the phrase, forsan haec olim meminisse juvabit. All I can remember about the society is the motto, and there is nothing particularly pleasant about the recollection, either. But somehow to-night that fool phrase comes back to me and makes a pessimist of me right off. I wonder how pleasant these things are going to be and whether I will want to remember them hereafter. Perhaps I won't have much choice. I'll probably remember them whether I want to or not. Already my first eight hours of active service as Conscript have some sharp edges sticking out which I am likely to remember, though many of them are far from pleasant. I am now truly a member of the army of the great unwashed and unwashable-no, I take that back. They are washable. I saw a grizzly old Sergeant herding four of them out to the washroom this evening. Each of them carried a formidable square of yellow soap and a most unhappy expression. But the Sergeant looked pleased with his detail.
