The only time I've ever been moderately successful in combat was in the bottom of my class at West Point because of a goat mind. And a goat is the bo… - Robert Lee Scott Jr.

I was flying with 1,000-pound bombs attached to my P-51. We were escorting B-29s sent to bomb steel mills in Korea. On the return I flew over Peking and over the Great Wall. I was fascinated with it and followed it all the way to the Yangtze River. My plane made a shadow over the wall and I said out loud, ‘O God, let me one day walk were my shadow walks.’

Weekends became training manoeuvres conducted in total secrecy- a uniformed cadet could hardly ride a motorcycle openly along the Plain of West Point- to prepare myself for thousands of miles along Marco Polo's route. I soon realized that New York State roads bore little resemblance to the rough terrain I would probably encounter in Europe and Asia Minor, but in the beautiful wooded hills sloping down past Callum Hall to the Hudson River, I found mountain trails running well past Cranberry Pond that seemed ideal for my purposes. These were bridle paths used occasionally by tactical officers on duty at the Academy- many from the cavalry- or by cadets with special riding privileges.

There is an archaic regulation at West Point that says a cadet shall not own a horse, a dog, or a moustache. Had the Powers That Be even suspected that I had a motorcycle that spring of 1932, it, too, would undoubtedly have been outlawed by the book of regulations. I had rented it from a shop in Highland Farms, a red Indian Scout that I had practically lived on it during the weekends from the time ice left the Hudson River.
Four years of schooling in tactics and logistics had impressed upon me that no individual, much less an army, can do anything near perfect the first try. Success demands practice, doing things over and over again- what the military calls "dry runs." Thus, as the day drew closer for me to follow in the footsteps of the Venetian, I prepared by becoming completely at home on the vehicle I had chosen for my journey. The Indian was for training; I would buy another motorcycle for the trip when I got to France.