UNIVERSITY DAIV.Y KANSAN, LAWRENCE, KANSAS
PAGE FOUR
DECEMBER 13,1945
UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN, LAWRENCE, KANSAS
DECEMBER 14,1945
This Was The Navy--It Came, It Studied, It Went To Sea
Thousands of Blue-Clad Sailors Tarried On Mt. Oread for 'War' on School Books
By PAUL CONRAD (Daily Kansan Staff Writer) ey studied, they went to sea.
They came, they studied, they went to sea.
This has been the campus history of the several thousand of Uncle Sam's sailors who have served some of their time in uniform on the University campus.
After the return to peacetime schedules for the Naval Reserve Officers Training Corps program in February, the familiar navy blues will be hard to find on the Hill. Most of the 400 men still in uniform here will have their choice of going to sea, or continuing their studies—at their own expense and in civvies-
in any American college or university with an NROTC department.
These have been hectic years for both the Hill and the navy, and the passing of one means a bunch of memories for the other.
Having the navy at K.U
lovely Kansas ceds, because gee, a gal's gotta have a date ONCE in a while, doesn't she?
Of course, there always were cracks. Like the campus male civilians who often said (when they spied the navy blue beside a coed sweater), "Yeah, V-12 — victory in 12 years, or we fight."
But that didn't bother the navy. It had the memories of helping win two
This Is How They Worked
These are the navy's machinist's mates, of whom there were hundreds on the campus, working in engineering shops.
meant a lot to a lot of persons.
It was nice for the University administration, because it meant that enrollment stayed somewhere off the bottom floor level, at a time when civilian male students were hard to find.
It was nice for the sailors, because it meant a break from standard navy service, either at shore installations or in dangerous sea duty.
And it was especially nice for our
This They Obeyed
This is Lt. A. B. Copping, commanding officer of the navy program on the campus from November, 1944, to September, 1945, when Capt. C. A. Kunz took charge.
memorable football games, over Missouri one year, over Nebraska the next.
It remembered the V-12 band, navy dances, Gordon "Pretty Boy" Reynolds, Lindley hall on a cold night, Poiter lake on a moonlit eve, and those blasted Saturday "awkward squads."
The sailors remembered, too, the brass that came to the campus, to give their saluting arms a workout. There were commanders and captains, and even a rear admiral, or two. There have been three long-time commanding officers — Lt. A. H. Buhl, Lt. A. B. Copping, and the present C.O., Capt. Chester A. Kunz.
The V-12's, you see, had to be housed somewhere, so they took over a bunch of Jayhawk fraternity houses.
The gobs were practical too — they knew that "all that glitters is not gold (braid)."
And when they took over the frats they nailed up little signs on the door that read "PT 6," or "PT 10."
The biggest mystery the brass introduced remains unsolved.
Curious civilians asked the sailors what the "PT" stood for, and there was the mystery.
No one knew.
Not even the navy officers could lathom it. Some, sounding very important, would growl out that "this gives the houses the navy touch," but Captain Kunz, asked the same question today, wondered whether the initials didn't stand for "physical training," but then broke down and admitted "I've wondered, too, just
This Is How They Listened
Here are hundreds of blue-suited, white-capped sailors listening to exercises in the Memorial Stadium. They were a familiar sight at all sports events, for many of which they sat in a group and added their bass voices to Jayhawk cheering.
naval shop action, that "Louie the Lid" was in flower. That's not a very complimentary term but it's what the sailors called one of their officers whose fame came from a hat which—they claimed—was so big it rested on his eyebrows.
what they stand for."
It was in these same days, when Fowler shops were buzzing with
The navy has been quite an experience for KU. Its men staffed the fraternities, filled the chairs in the Union lounge, backboned the sports, glamorized the sorority parties.
No treatise on naval history (at K.U.) would be complete without mention of Ensign Ware. As many V-12's have said (since he left), Ensign Ware used to be graced with a brainstorm about once a week.
Along with the "PT" came the "deck" and the "sack." Poor deck and sack. At night, the sailors always "hit the sack." In the morning, they always "hit the deck." Such punishment. Just ordinary civilians didn't understand, naturally.
The "race," it seems, referred to the great scramble at nontime to beat the columns of gobs marching down the street to the Union. Losers often were late for lunch.
Its men have served a double job—being sailors for Uncle Sam, and at the same time fitting in smoothly and swiftly with University routine. Their courses have been tough, their semesters different from civilian schedules, their holidays somewhat cramming on the whole University style.
The first group of sailors here were electrician's mates, and with them came the campus phrase, "It's a great day for the race."
The uniforms are still here today, of course, but after not too many to-morrows, they'll disappear — to smooth sailing, we trust.
This They Saluted
This is Rear Adm. A. S. Carpender, who visited the campus in January on an inspection trip. He kept the sailors' saluting arms busy.
This Is Where They Lived
This is Lindley hall, sometimes affectionately (?) called "the barn," where many of the navy sailors bunked when there wasn't room for them all in the PT houses. Some of the blue-clad men will return to live here briefly at the end of this semester until they are commissioned.