It was good that the night was clear; mud could be a great handicap. The drivers were alert; the coolies worked hard, chanting as they loaded the trucks; the mechanics checked over the engines as if they were airplanes. There was a wonderful electric atmosphere. Even the Chinese drivers refrained from drinking. Some of the Burmese who wandered idly among the piles of stock and droves of trucks were Japanese spies, but no one seemed to care. The Burma Road was opening again.
To every Chinese, this was vital news. For the Burma Road,...
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