Page Seven                         
 
                                                            
 
 
All that air strip needed was a name. Then suddenly it didn't 
      need a name. It had many names - names fron Brooklyn and Carolina, 
      London and the North Country, Liverpool, Texas and Nepal - names 
      of the men who had paid off to make it. Men who were there with 
      it deep in the Burma Jungle - who would stay there with it forever, 
                        watching over it.                   
 
                                                            
 
 
There was a motor roar far up the evening sky - the first 
      of the troop ships. They came in and circled for Allisons green 
      landing bean and got it, roaring down in Johnson landings; taxing 
      off the strip to disgorge the army. They came in faster than 
      they ever could at La Guardia field- one after another, circling, 
      cutting in their landing lights, roaring down on the lighted 
      strip. You could count for awhile, then you lost count, and you 
      asked someone and the figure was unbelievable - and it still 
        is if you will look it up in the official records.  
 
                                                            
 
 
General Wingate's Armyl. And Phil Cochran and his gang flew 
      it over the mountains in the bright moonlight and put it down 
      deep in the heart of Jap held Burma - and the password was Mandalay.