Fiddler's Green

An American hero died today.


His name was A.T. He spent thirty-odd years in the Army, with tours in both Vietnam and Korea as an Armor officer.

There’s a legend among tankers (the spiritual descendents of the cavalrymen of old) about a place called Fiddler’s Green. Think of it as Valhalla for cavalry troopers.

Here’s the poem:


Fiddler’s Green

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.




Rest easy, trooper. 

That is life, From My Position.