As a boy, I was very fond of the old soldier in our little town. He had only one leg, lost the
other somewhere in Assam in 1942. He used to sit on the bank of our small river and tell me
about his adventures. He told me that he had run away from home to join the army when he
was eighteen. He had experienced his first battle in the Libyan desert in the Second World
War. He used to tell me dozens of war stories, but the one I liked best was the one about
his escape, from a Japanese prisoner-of-war camp in Burma. He told me again and again
how he walked two hundred miles in two weeks. On the way, he was bitten on the toe by a
poisonous snake and had to cut off part of the toe in order to survive. But the wound did not
heal and by the time he got to an Indian camp it had turned septic and the leg had to be
amputated. He is apparently quite contented with his lot. He says that his pension is enough
for his needs; and the fish he catches and sells provides him with the money for his
entertainment. Write a summary
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Answer:
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