Military training at the MIT was optional. I was keen on taking it but felt unsure whether I would be able to complete it and whether the US Army authorities would allow an alien like me to receive it from them. Luckily Uncle Sam raised no objection and I was enrolled for the training. During the first year, we were trained as infantry for three hours every week and by the end of the year, my squad could march in proper formation and at least give the appearance of professional soldiers. In the second year, our training was restricted to classroom lectures on the history of the US Army and the techniques of warfare. In the third year, we were trained for the artillery, a subject which included Coast Artillery, Field Artillery and Anti-aircraft guns. We were expected to join an intensive training camp for one of the branches, according to our choice; I chose Coast Artillery. Our camp was held at Fort Monroe, Virginia, about 650 miles from Boston. I decided to drive the distance in my car. Four other students joined me and by sharing expenses we reduced the cost to less than the bus fare. Reaching our camp on 10th June 1925 we were given our uniforms. All were fitted in one day, except one of our students who presented quite a problem for the camp Quarter-Master since he wore size 11 boots. The Quarter-Master rummaged through all his boxes but could not find a paid of that size. The Commanding Officer, a bit of a humorist, suggested "Why not give the guy two pairs of size 5½ each?" The Quarter-Master went hunting around in various sources of supply and by the following day was able to come up with a pair of Elevens.

Along with the uniforms we were issued rifles. I watched how some of our men reacted to holding a real rifle in their hands for the first time in their lives; some were scared, while some felt so brave that the minute they held their rifles, they pulled back their shoulders, thrust out their chests and swaggered like professionals