In the winter of 1943–44, my senior year, classmate (and later class secretary) Roger Seymour and I journeyed to Doc’s for a late breakfast. It was a Sunday morning, and Rog said he had to call home. We stopped at the Andover Inn so Roger could use the telephone. When he concluded his call, he had a very somber expression. Rog informed me he had just learned that his brother, Hovey Seymour [’38], had been killed in action or was missing in action—I do not recall his exact words. I then realized Hovey was the highly regarded student athlete who had graduated from Andover and whom I had seen on Saturday afternoons playing football for Yale. This news made me aware of the war in a more personal way, and the toll it took on each one of America’s youth.