When a Cavalryman dies,he begins a long march, to his ultimate destination. About halfway along the road, he enters a broad meadow dotted with trees and crossed by many streams, known as "FIDDLER'S GREEN".

As he crosses the green he finds an old canteen, a single spur,and a carbine sling. Traveling on he comes upon a field camp where he finds all the Troopers who have gone before him, with their campfires, tents, and picket lines neatly laid out.

All other branches of service MUST continue the MARCH without pause. The Cavalryman, though, are authorized to dismount, unsaddle and stay in the Fiddler's Green, their canteens ever full,the grass always green, and enjoy the companionship and reminiscences of old friends.

SOLDIER.........I was that which others did not want to be. I went where others feared to go, and did what others failed to do. I ask nothing from those who gave nothing, and reluctantly accepted the thought of eternal loneliness....should I fail. I have seen the face of terror, and enjoyed the sweet taste of a moment's love. I have cried, pained and hoped.... but most of all I have lived times others would say were best forgotten. AT LEAST SOMEDAY, I WILL BE ABLE TO SAY THAT I WAS PROUD OF WHAT I WAS.....A SOLDIER. (AUTHOR UNKNOWN)