He stopped at home for a year, when the wander-bubbles of his blood got
into ferment again, and trotting down to New Orleans he was tempted by
military possibilities and enlisted in the Regular Army. He was sent to
the Philippines, where he displayed such proficiency as rifleman that
he won all the regimental prizes for the best marksmanship. That skill
in getting bullets into the right spot was one of his great assets when
he came to battling in the air over the fields of France.
But even the Army waxed tame for Lufbery, and when his term of
enlistment expired he was ready and eager to nose out what the still
strange parts of the world had to offer him. He sailed for Japan,
sampled the beauties and novelties of that country and then dipped into
China. From China he went into India. A characteristic anecdote is
told of him as ticket-seller in one of the railway stations of India.
It has been said that he sustained himself with any kind of odd job as
he roamed the world, and ticket-selling was one of the tedious sort of
occupations least to his liking. A pompous type of native one day stood
at the wicket.
“Want a ticket?” Lufbery asked.
“Say ‘Sir’ when you speak to me,” said the native, loftily.