Halfway down the trail to Hell,
In a shady meadow green
Are the Souls of all dead Troopers camped,
Near a good old-time canteen.
And this eternal resting place
Is known as Fiddlers’ Green.

Marching past, straight through to Hell
The Infantry are seen.
Accompanied by the Engineers,
Artillery and Marines,
For none but the shades of Cavalrymen
Dismount at Fiddlers’ Green.

Though some go curving down the trail
To seek a warmer scene.
No Trooper ever gets to Hell
Ere he’s emptied his canteen.
And so rides back to drink again
With friends at Fiddlers’ Green.

And so when man and horse go down
Beneath a saber keen,
Or in a roaring charge of fierce melee
You stop a bullet clean,
And the hostiles come to get your scalp,
Just empty your canteen,
And put your pistol to your head
And go to Fiddlers’ Green.

GARRYOWEN!

Herman Nelson!

quote:

Herman Nelson!

HA! Love it!

The Battalion Motor Sergeant for my FA battalion back in the 70's in the FRG was named Herman Nelson; great guy. We junior enlisted would razz him by asking if he was a millionaire from his wondrous invention, was he drunk when he invented it, etc. His usual response was a good-natured grin an a "FU". I ran into him years later and he was a Warrant Officer.

Later, as a platoon leader in the 9th ID, I had a maintenance tech named Larry Hoffman. When walking around and receiving salutes from enlisted soldiers with a snappy "Motorized!" or "Tomahawks!" or "Always Able!", his common response when returning the salute was "Herman Nelson!", which resulted in puzzled looks or laughter.

Good times!

quote:

Originally posted by BigSwede:
GARRYOWEN!

The 7th first!