One instructor handled us very wisely, it seems to me. On Sunday evening in particular, he would make a point of stopping in at a local bar frequented by many of the GI-Bill student. There he would sit and drink, joke, and swap stories with men in his class, men who had but recently put away their uniforms and identities: former platoon sergeant, bomber pilots, corporals, captains, lieutenants, commanders, majors——even a lieutenant colonel, as I recall. They enjoyed his company greatly, as  ...