盟军忍受疾病、季风和日军的袭击，筑起了这条臭名昭著的1800公里长的补给线。这条路目前仍蜿蜒穿越在三个国家——也留在了老兵们的记忆里。

　　the old soldiers urge me not to go looking. they'd prefer to think that the road they hacked across india's steep patkai range and down through the jungles of burma to china during world war ii is gone. that its two stringy lanes—now six decades old—have been devoured by time and landslides, jungle monsoons and swampy earth.

　　老兵们劝我别去找。他们宁愿相信二战期间他们所开凿的、始于印度陡峭的帕特开山、经由缅甸的热带雨林、最后通往中国的那条道路已经不存在了。他们宁愿相信那已有60年历史、狭窄崎岖的两车道公路，已经被时间、山崩、雨林季风和沼泽湿地所湮灭。

　　but right now, step after step, i'm crossing a steel bridge near the northeastern indian village of jairampur: a dilapidated span the old soldiers laid above the muddy khatang nalla in early 1943, the first true bridge of the burma road's 1,100-mile (1,800 kilometer) length.

　　可是现在，我正一步一步地越过印度东北jairampur村附近地一个铁桥：这座已经荒废了的桥是老兵们于1943年初，在泥泞的khatang nalla河上架设的，这也是全长1800公里的滇缅公路的第一座真正的桥。

　　i leave the bridge's far end, walking between walls of rain forest that rise like green tapestries a hundred feet high. as i walk, i'm thinking of mitchell opas, now 86, who served as a u.s. army medic during world war ii and whom i've interviewed at reunions from massachusetts to texas. "if that road's still there," opas has instructed me, his finger pointed in my direction for emphasis, "then you send pictures of it."

　　我走出了桥的尽头，走入了拔地而起的重重雨林，像是走在百英尺高的绿色挂毯之间。我一边走一边想着现年86岁的mitchell opas，他在二战期间是美军义务人员，我在从麻省到德州的各类老兵聚会上数次采访过他。“如果那条路还在的话，”opas用手指着我，加强语气说：“那你就寄些他的照片回来。”

　　up the pavement ahead of me, dogs doze in the sun as children run back and forth across the otherwise empty road's chipped asphalt. two hundred yards farther along, a wood-planked district police station encircled by razor wire sits off the road's left shoulder. when i begin to pass it by, a green-uniformed sentry—his assault rifle slung across his belly—lifts his weapon. using the gun's black barrel, he motions me inside the front gate. "please," he suggests, "come inside."

　　在我前方的路面上，狗在阳光下打盹，孩子们则在柏油已经碎裂的空旷道路上跑来跑去，除了他们之外四下无人。再往前200码的左边路肩上，是四周围用有刺铁丝围起的地方警察局。当我准备通过时，一名肚子前斜挂着突击步枪，身穿绿色制服的哨兵举起武器，用黑色的枪管示意我从前门进去。

　　i'm led to the commander's office, where i'm offered a handshake and a chair. the commander is an imposing man in his 40s named g. k. grung, his olive uniform festooned with flashing gold stars. seated behind a wooden desk, he examines my passport and visa. he's especially interested in my restricted area permit, the paper authorizing me to travel the final 18 miles (28 kilometers) of road inside india's otherwise off-limits state of arunachal pradesh. here in arunachal's jungle, the road crests a 3,727-foot (1,135-meter) mountain notch called pangsau pass, which constitutes india's hotly defended border with myanmar, the nation formerly known as burma.