Haigs and Murphys<br >/~y father， who died five days after my ninth bidhday， was commis-<br >sioned a first lieutenant in the infantry after finishing his studies at the<br >University of Pennsylvania Law School in the spring of 1917. He became<br >a machine-gun instructor in various stateside training camps， but World<br >War I ended before he could be sent to France， His uniform and equip-<br >ment were stored in the attic of his parents house in Merehantville， New<br >lersey. I was still a very small boy， no more than six or seven， when 1<br >found them there--the rakish Anglo-American steel helmet， the gas mask<br >in its canvas pouch marked U.S.， the web belt with canteen， first-aid kit，<br >and pistol holster suspended on hooks from the brass grommets， and the<br >scratchy khaki uniform itself with my father s silver bars pinned to the<br >shoulder straps of tile high-necked tunic.<br > Thereafter， on our Sunday visits to nay Haig grandparents， I crept<br >upstairs as soon as 1 could slip away after the midday dinner and quietly<br >played soldier， all alone in that vast， shadowy attic. No adult interfered，<br >least of all my long-suffering Grandmother Haig. I was a rambunctious<br >child who had formerly spent my Sundays racing wildly around the broad<br >Victorian porches of the house with my older sister， Regina. Although<br >Regina was， at that times a bit of a tomboy， she took no interest in hehnets<br >and gas masks， and could not understand my fascination with these<br >wonderful objects. Thereafter， she stayed downstairs in the parlor， where<br >
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