For Veteran's Day...

In honor of my late hubby, my current hubby, my daughter, and most especially, my late father, I wanted to post this poem written by my father a couple of years ago. My daddy served in the Second Armored Division of the U.S. Army under General George S. Patton as a radio operator during WWII, earning a Bronze Star for his excellent achievements overseas.

Enjoy, and Happy Veteran's Day to ALL our Vets and enlisted personnel overseas!

The Ballad of General George
(c) 2006 by Birl R. Brown, Sr.

(Author's Note: For the purpose of discipline, those under Patton's command were required to wear a necktie, while those of other military units and the National Guard were not. Shelter halves were 1/2 of a regulation pup-tent; two were buttoned together to erect.)

T'was in the southern parishes in Louisiana's heat
That General Georgie Patton's boys learned about 'compete'.
Chiggers, ticks, and okra fields, and skeeters big as tanks,
And a plentitude of gnats abound to aggravate the ranks,
For Louisiana's hot as hell, and only God knows why,
But I am one of Patton's boys, and I must wear my tie!

Generals George and Ed Rommel were classmates years ago
For both attended V.M.I. to warfare better know
But time had sharpened up the sword that cut the cord between,
It's like a guess in Russian chess, before a move's foreseen,
Louisiana's hot as hell, which none at all deny,
But I'm a Georgie Patton boy and I have to wear my tie!

Always, the tie must tuck between two buttons of the shirt,
The third and second only please, or suffer Georgie's hurt.
The tanks develop clouds of dust and respirators clog.
The heavy tanks can lose a track, or stick in oily bog,
Where Louisiana's hot as hell and I'm about to fry,
But I am still a Patton boy and I always wear my tie!

There was a time the General went to check the river's brink
Where a million hungry skeeters live, but he was there to think
And plan just how the units, in a crossing there, could fight.
So concentrated was his thought, he never felt a bite,
And I was wrapped in shelter halves, and just about to cry,
But yet, since I'm a Patton boy, I still had on my tie.

On a night run into Texas we were weary through and through,
The General reached into his Brief and a little flask withdrew.
He offered it to his Driver, who didn't drink, alas! It passed
Around from each to each: He took his swallow last.
I'll remember that 'Old Taylor', when I lay me down to die,
Just close the little coffin, please, but don't forget the tie!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
...We didn't.