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July 11, 2009

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The Fiddler's Green Marines

By Greyhawk

Matt Sanchez, with the Marines in Afghanistan:

HELMAND PROVICE, Afghanistan -- It's the middle of the night at the east corner guard post of Fiddler's Green, a Marine fire base in Afghanistan's Helmand Province, along the border with Pakistan.

Corporal Ryan Joseph Bernal is on perimeter security duty.

Matt tells me the Marines aren't exactly happy with that name. I suppose there must have been some Cav guys there first.

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.

He tried to taunt me with a claim that Afghanistan dust is worse than Iraq, too, then added "I was with these two Marines when they were killed".

DoD Identifies Marine Casualty

The Department of Defense announced today the death of two Marines who were supporting Operation Enduring Freedom.

Lance Cpl. Roger G. Hager, 20, of Gibsonville, N.C., and Master Sgt. John E. Hayes, 36, of Middleburg, Fla., died July 8 while supporting combat operations in Helmand province, Afghanistan. They were assigned to 2nd Reconnaissance Battalion, 2nd Marine Division, II Marine Expeditionary Force, Camp Lejeune, N.C.

Rivalries aside, I suspect the Cav guys wouldn't mind if they stopped for a bit of water and talk of dust at Fiddler's Green.

Semper Fi.




Posted by Greyhawk / July 11, 2009 4:42 PM | Permalink

8 Comments

" Shades of 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 Fiddler's Green


Though some go curving down the trail,

to seek a warmer scene

No Trooper ever gets to Hell, ere he

empties his canteen

And so rides back to drink again with

friends at Fiddler's Green



Marching past, straight through to Hell

the Infantry are seen

Accompanied by the Engineers, Quarter-

master and Marines,

For none but shades of Cavalry dismount

at Fiddler's Green


And so, as men and horses go down

beneath a saber keen

Or in a roaring charge or fierce melee

stop a bullet clean

When the hostiles come to get your scalp

just empty your canteen

And put your pistol to your head, and

go to Fiddler's Green


3rd Armd Cav Regt at Baumholder Germany

From the Dictionary of Phrase and Fable by the Rev. E. Cobham Brewer, LLD

"Fiddler's Green. The land of the leal or 'Dixie Land' of sailors; where there is perpetual mirth, a fiddle that never ceases to untiring dancers, plenty of grog and unlimited tobacco."

The following has been obtained from Seamen's Church Institute of New York. Quote from Sea Language Comes Ashore, by J.C. Colord. Cornell Maritime Press 1945, p.74.

"Fiddler's Green, British sailors term-or that fine place where souls of good sailors go, after the bodies go to Davey Jones Locker."

From: SEA SLANG OF THE TWENTIETH CENTURY, by W. Grandville, London, p. 95.

"Fiddler's Green final rest of old sailors, Sailors paradise. There fiddles play all day and most of the night. With lasses responsive andglasses well filled."

No one has seen the fiddler

Who plays on Fiddler's Green.

He roves at night, when the moon is white,

And his passing is never seen.

Yet there is no mistaking,

Those who have heard his song;

They know each other as neighbors,

And know that they belong.

So go as you must where work demands,

Sure that the bond holds true;

Just think of us on a moon-light night

And our fiddler will play for you.

Harry and Bonaro Overstreet

Fiddler's Green

Now Fiddler's Green is a place I've heard tell

Where the fishermen go if they don't go to hell,

Where the skies are all clear and the dolphin do play,

And the cold coast of Greenland is far far away.

Where the skies are all clear and there's never a gale,

And the fish jump onboard with one swish of their tail,

Where you lie at your leisure there's no work to do,

And the skipper's below making tea for the crew.

When you get back on the docks and the long trip is through,

There's pubs and there's clubs and there's lassies there too,

Where the girls are all pretty and the beer it is free

And there's bottles of rum growing from every tree.

Now I don't want a harp nor a halo, not me,

Just give a breeze on a good rolling sea,

I'll play me old squeeze box as we sail along,

With wind in the rigging to sing me a song.

John Conolly

Seasongs en Shanties on Internet

"Fiddlers Green"

As I walked by the dockyard, one evening so fair,

to view the still waters, and take the salt air.

I heard an old fisherman singing this song,

Oh, take me away lads, me time is not long.

Refrein

Dress me up in me oilskins and jumper,

No more on the docks I'll be seen.

Just tell me old shipmates, I'm taking a trip mates,

and I'll see you some day, on Fiddlers Green.

Einar van Santen & River Scheldt Pilots Choir

My sons unit - unfortunately the three (3) WIA's weren't listed from the IED and the ambush the next night.

DoD Identifies Marine Casualty

The Department of Defense announced today the death of two Marines who were supporting Operation Enduring Freedom.

Lance Cpl. Roger G. Hager, 20, of Gibsonville, N.C., and Master Sgt. John E. Hayes, 36, of Middleburg, Fla., died July 8 while supporting combat operations in Helmand province, Afghanistan. They were assigned to 2nd Reconnaissance Battalion, 2nd Marine Division, II Marine Expeditionary Force, Camp Lejeune, N.C.

Gary your son is in our thoughts and prayers. I'm damned proud of what I've heard of the Marines in A'stan thus far, though not a bit surprised.

I was just in Afghanistan, and spent 3 or 4 days at "Fiddlers Green" taking photographs and doing sketches. But until just a few weeks ago, it was called "Fire Base Thunder". They changed the name of it, due to the artillery legend. (It's supposedly also legend in the arty world)

fiddler green, afgarristan. 3/11 Bans Cif Gear

I don't know how Marine mothers and wives of the past have done it! I find some solice in searching for news on my son's welfare, in a foreign land, knowing full well that he is in harms way to some extent. I can't imagine the anguish for the women of previous eras' wars. I am so grateful that he gets to call home often. It is worth a million letters to hear his voice. My son is Ryan Bernal, who is mentioned on your website. I give a heartfelt condolence to the families that have lost their children and loved ones. We are praying for the safe return of all of our other service men & women.

My son is also at Firebase Fiddlers Green. I concur with Mrs Bernal, it is very comforting to hear my son's voice at least once a week or so. Still, I am not oblivious to what is going on outside the confines of this base that some call the "Gates of Hell". I pray for the safe return of all of the Marines and other service men and women daily. What a horrible way to spend 7 months of your life. And still, those that are there protecting our freedoms have NO REGRETS, I know my son doesn't.

Semper Fi and God Bless to all of those families that have loved ones in this horrible area of Afghanistan.

My son is at Fiddlers Green. We hear from him sporadically but so far all is well. I worry constantly as do all the families whose family members are deployed.

Leave a comment

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November 26, 2010


America@war
[Greyhawk]
I think anyone who's ever pondered the "comment" option - once only available on blogs and bulletin boards, now ubiquitous on almost any web site - will appreciate this:
The so-called faculty of writing is not so much a faculty of writing as it is a faculty of thinking. When a man says, "I have an idea but I can't express it"; that man hasn't an idea but merely a vague feeling. If a man has a feeling of that kind, and will sit down for a half an hour and persistently try to put into writing what he feels, the probabilities are at least 90 percent that he will either be able to record it, or else realize that he has no idea at all. In either case, he will do himself a benefit.

That's wisdom from the past, captured for posterity at the US Naval Institute, shared via the web on the institute's 137th anniversary.

From their about page:

The Naval Institute shall remain

INDEPENDENT - A non-profit member association, with no government support, that does not lobby for special interests;

NON-PARTISAN - An independent, professional military association with a mission, goals and objectives that transcend political affiliations; and shall encourage

IDEAS - Through its respected journals Proceedings and Naval History, its conferences, its books and its online content, in support of those who serve.

"The Naval Institute has three core activities," among them, History and Preservation:

The Naval Institute also has recently introduced Americans at War, a living history of Americans at war in their own words and from their own experiences. These 90-second vignettes convey powerful stories of inspiration, pride, and patriotism.

Take a look at the collection, and you'll see it's not limited to accounts from those who served on ships at sea, members of the other branches are well-represented.

I'm fortunate to have met USNI's Mary Ripley, she's responsible for the institute's oral history program (and she's the daughter of the late John Ripley, whose story is told here). She also deserves much credit for their blog. ("We're not the Navy nor any government agency. Blog and comment freely.") We met at a milblog conference - Mary knew (and I would come to realize) that milbloggers are the 21st-century version of exactly what the US Naval Institute is all about. Once that light bulb came on in my head, I mentioned a vague idea for a project to her - milblogs as the 21st century oral history that they are.

"Put that in writing," she said (of course - see first paragraph above!) - and here's part of the result.

Shortly after the first tent was pitched by the American military in Iraq a wire was connected to a computer therein, and the internet was available to a generation of Americans at war - many of whom had grown up online. From that point on, at any given moment, somewhere in Iraq a Soldier, Sailor, Airman or Marine was at a keyboard sharing the events of his or her day with the folks back home. While most would simply fire off an email, others took advantage of the (then) relatively new online blogging platforms to post their thoughts and experiences for the entire world to see. The milblog was born - and from that moment to this stories detailing everything from the most mundane aspects of camp life to intense combat action (often described within hours of the event) have been available on the web...

And et cetera - but since you're reading this on a milblog, you probably knew that. And you know that milblogs aren't just blogs written by troops at war, that many friends, family members, and supporters likewise documented their story of America at war online in near-real time, as those stories developed.

The diversity in membership of that group is broad, the one thing we all have in common is the impulse to make sense of the seemingly senseless, and communicate the tale - for each of us that impulse was strong enough to overcome whatever barriers prevent the vast majority of people from doing the same. Everyone at some point has some vague idea they believe should be shared - we were the people who, from some combination of internal and external urging, found and spent those many half hours persistently trying to write it down.

*****

But where will all that be in another 137 years? Or five or ten, for that matter. That's something I've asked myself since at least 2004 - when I wrote this:

Closing Blogs is nothing new. So many site's owners just give up on their own. They come and go, you know, these MilBloggers do. Like any other sort of blogger. Many post in the lonely down hours far from home, spill their guts for the world, then abandon their spots when the tour of duty is up. They have lives again somewhere in the world, and no need to share the details. So it goes.

Many are truly gone - no site left at all. "The page cannot be found." Other blogs remain, like abandoned defensive positions in shifting desert sands.

Membership in the ghost battalion has grown in the years since, and an ever growing majority of those abandoned-but-still-standing sites are vanishing. Have you checked out Lt Smash's site lately? How about Sgt Hook's? If you're a long-time milblog reader you know the first widely-read milblog from Operation Iraq Freedom and the first widely-read milblog from Afghanistan are both gone from the web. If you're a relative newcomer to this world you may never even have heard of them - or the dozens upon dozens of others who carried forth the standard they set down.

If you have a vague notion that something should be done about that, (a notion I've heard expressed more than once...) then you and I and the good folks at the US Naval Institute are in agreement. Preserving the history documented by the milbloggers is just one of the goals of the milblog project, the once-vague idea that we're now making real.

And it's a big idea, if I say so myself - too big to explain in one simple blog post, so stand by for more. Likewise, it's too big a task to be accomplished by just one person. So if you're a milblogger (and exactly what is a milblogger? is a topic for much further discussion on its own) I'm asking for your help. All I'll really need is just a little bit (maybe just one or two of those half hours...) of your time, and your willingness to tell the tale.

We've already made history, it's time to save it.

(More to follow...)




Posted 4:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) |

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The Mudville Gazette is the on-line voice of an American warrior and his wife who stands by him. They prefer to see peaceful change render force of arms unnecessary. Until that day they stand fast with those who struggle for freedom, strike for reason, and pray for a better tomorrow.
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  • Anonymous: My son is at Fiddlers Green. We hear from him read more
  • Robert Freeland: My son is also at Firebase Fiddlers Green. I concur read more
  • Kendra Bernal: I don't know how Marine mothers and wives of the read more
  • disgruntled marine: fiddler green, afgarristan. 3/11 Bans Cif Gear read more
  • kristopher battles: I was just in Afghanistan, and spent 3 or 4 read more
  • Greyhawk: Gary your son is in our thoughts and prayers. I'm read more
  • Gary Fish: My sons unit - unfortunately the three (3) WIA's weren't read more
  • Gary Fish: " Shades of Fiddler's Green " Halfway down the trail read more

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The Mudville Gazette is written and produced by Greyhawk, who recently retired from 24 years of active duty in the US military, but will maintain this disclaimer: Unless otherwise credited, the opinions expressed are those of the author, and nothing here is to be taken as representing the official position of or endorsement by the United States Department of Defense or any of its subordinate components.

Furthermore, I will occasionally use satire or parody herein. The bottom line: it's my house.

I like having visitors to my house. I hope you are entertained. I fight for your right to free speech, and am thrilled when you exercise said rights here. Comments and e-mails are welcome, but all such communication is to be assumed to be 1)the original work of any who initiate said communication and 2)the property of the Mudville Gazette, with free use granted thereto for publication in electronic or written form. If you do NOT wish to have your message posted, write "CONFIDENTIAL" in the subject line of your email.

Original content copyright © 2003 - 2011 by Greyhawk. Fair, not-for-profit use of said material by others is encouraged, as long as acknowledgement and credit is given, to include the url of the original source post. Other arrangements can be made as needed.

Contact: greyhawk at mudvillegazette dot com

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*****

Tending Distant
Fires


Far from hearth and home, watching
Cold alone but not alone
On distant shore and only wanting
Safe return and little more

What tales we'll tell
When that time comes
When tales can be told

When things grim
Seem far away
When other fires go cold

Some distant sunset, vision fading
Memories remain
And tired eyes gaze 'pon folded flags
While distant drums beat their refrain

Saluting fallen friends whose names
And youth will never fade
Here's to those on other shores,
for them live well, the price is paid

- Greyhawk,
Baghdad,
December 2004