It is six o'clock on a spring day in rural Virginia. The year is 1938, and in a small C.C.C. camp located near Charlottesville the enrollees are just finishing their evening meal. (The C.C.C—Civilian Conservation Corps—was the relief agency created in 1933 to employ jobless young men on land and forest reclamation projects.) Talk of the day's work is interrupted by a large black automobile that roars to a stop in front of the mess hall.

A uniformed man jumps from the car, rushes into the hall, and, flashing a sheriff's badge, demands to see the camp commander. The two men move to a corner of the room where they engage in an animated conversation. Everyone else is silent, straining to hear what is being said. The consultation ends, and the sheriff pounds on the nearest table for attention.