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From: Anonymous Tiger.

Once upon a time there was a young American living on one of the more pleasant parts of the United States who received a very personal and friendly letter from a group of his friends and neighbors.

It was necessary for him to go out with a bunch of other young men and fight his country's enemies for a while. That way, the letter said, we'd keep this country swell to live in and maybe have a peaceful world for many many years. The letter ended with a polite invitation for him to jack up his car, kiss his girl and come live, for now, with Uncle Sam.

Now it happened, that the young American to whom this letter was addressed - his name was Albert Jones - was a very lucky young American. Many of his friends who had received similar hospitable invitations were shipped to such places as England and Africa and little islands in the Pacific which nobody had ever heard of. But lucky Pvt. Albert Jones embarked on a fine fat steamer and almost before he knew it, he found himself in what was then The China-Burma-India Theater of Operations.

Albert did some fighting there. He also did some desk work, some truck driving, some flying, some road building, some wire stringing, some pipeline laying and for a while he clerked at the Post Office in the Dispensary. He was luckier than some of his friends in one final respect. He didn't get hurt.

But what Pvt. Albert Jones wants to remember later on, when his wife drags his moth eaten O.D.'s or suntan's out of the closet for the Annual Veteran's Convention is not the danger and the drawn out boredom of his fighting and his work. HE wants to remember his magic carpet travels in the Orient - the time he flew over the Hump, the strange animals he'd never seen before, the nice smiling faces of his Chinese friends, the wild jungle country around the Ledo Road, and the splendor and squalor of magic India.

- Anonymous Tiger