When James Alcott finished his service in the big war, he spent in three years in the military hospital in Antwerp, Belgium. His wife, Lillian, and her sister Maggie, though knowing he was alive and would be returning home eventually, didn't really know what to expect. Then the letter came; "Home sometime on August 18." At 6 a.m., the sisters went out on the porch. A fliver came down the road at 3:25, stopped in front of the house and Private James Alcott was home. His guide dog led him up the path to the total joy he couldn't see, but felt with all his being.