ABSTRACT
May the news spread: Hitler was dead. A week later the Nazis surrendered, and the Al-
lies wheeled their bloody war machines to the task of defeating Japan.
On quiet South Campus the din of battle rumbled like distant thunder, too weak
to disturb the flow of sunny days. By RC Robinson’s own estimation, life was going
well. At fourteen and a half he had his growth and stood five feet, eight inches. Blind-
ness had become a long-accepted fact. School was stupid at times, but there was music,
friends, nice girls. A new teacher had come to South Campus from the Navy, a non-
com who ran a tight ship. When he made RC one of his dorm monitors, RC’s behav-
ior instantly improved. “RC handled that job,” Paul Behn remembered. “If we were
acting up, he’d say, ‘Listen, boys, we better not do that,’ and we’d stop.”
