“I just wandered down from the flying field,” Stan replied. “Too hot to sleep.”
The boss was instantly impressed. “You fellows are doing a swell job. You have the toughest job there is out here. But I have my troubles, too,” he added.
“What sort of troubles?” Stan asked.
“We have such a mixture of people that I can’t tell them apart—Chinese, Burmans, and Malays. The Chinese on the whole are very honest, but there are some who feel free to make off with anything they can get hold of.” He grinned widely. “They steal the stuff and sell it in places where there is no war at all.”
“What use would they have for car parts?” Stan asked.
“Oh, they don’t waste time stealing car parts. They steal cars and trucks after we get them serviced and ready to roll.” The boss wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “This whole lower end of the line is in Burma, not China. The Chinese just have transportation rights. They got those rights through British pressure and some of the Burmese don’t like it.”
“What do they do when they catch thieves stealing trucks and cars?” Stan asked.
“It depends a lot on who they are. If they are wealthy owners of big land grants, they just take the car and forget it. If they are poor natives who make a business of thieving, they shoot them.” The boss laughed. “Any way you look at it, we have a hard time delivering enough supplies to keep the Chinese army going.”
Stan nodded. He was thinking about a number of things. “Well, I’ll run along. I feel as though I could sleep now.”
“Drop down to the Teeka Hotel sometime,” the boss said. “I’m Matt Willard. I’ll be glad to show you around.”