MR Y EXPERIENCE in World War II was different, I believe, from that of most social scientists who entered government service. For many years I had been an officer of the Naval Reserve, so that when the time came, instead of being assigned to some such field as public opinion analysis or military government, which were obviously related to sociology as an academic discipline, I was sent to sea as an ordinary line officer. And out of four and half years on active duty, more than two were spent in command of small ships engaged in antisubmarine warfare and escort of convoy operations. Looking back on it, I feel that I was extremely lucky to have had this kind of responsibility, but I am not indulging in reminiscence for its own sake. If, in the end, sociology does not teach students something they can actually use in handling men effectively, it is nothing. Eventually we must be able to do that, or we shall not be worth our salt. I wish we could say that we do it now. I myself learned much from sociology which made me more effective sea captain than I should otherwise have been. The point I am making here is that I did not do better job than the young man who was educated, intelligent, sensitive-who was, as we used to say, a good joe-but who had not been exposed to social science. We do not yet teach leadership. It must be taught, soon and well, if we are to train the men who will hold our industrial civilization together. If the average sociologist, like myself, cannot do better job of leadership than the average intelligent young man, he should at least be better observer. I think I did learn, usually by making mistakes, some of the factors which make for good or bad morale on small ship: group, shall we say, of not more than two hundred men, differing from other groups of comparable size in being isolated and self-contained, sometimes for weeks at time. Nothing that I learned was new,1 except in its application to this particular milieu, and nothing complex. No doubt our intellectual elaboration in this field will keep pace with our ability to teach skill. Note also that I say some of the factors in morale. I make no pretense of including all of them. For instance, there is formal discipline. Armies and navies have had hundreds of years of experience in formal discipline, and most of the remarks wise officers have made on that subject seem to me well taken. The factors I shall speak of are less often discussed in professional military circles, though often in fact well handled. They are: the problem of technical competence, the problem of balance, the problem of reciprocity, and the problem of communication. The problem of technical competence. All warships work with other warships, and comparisons are always being made between them. When group of ships has been together for long time, the character of each is well established and the subject of the most ribald comment. How quickly does U.S.S. Blank react to submarine contact? How many hits does she get shooting at towed sleeve? What kind of chow does she serve? What kind of guy is her skipper? All these things come up for discussion. Take minor problem like coming alongside pier. Almost always other ships are present in port, and men from these ships will be on the pier to handle the lines. If the captain misjudges his approach and scrapes off some of his paint, if the engine room force does not back the engines promptly when ordered, if the gang on the fantail allows the stern line to get fouled in the screw, the fact will be observed with delight and remembered. Now no seamen wishes to be one of the