I WAS THERE
- Quick Steel
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I WAS THERE
According to my records and my memory, I did not previously post this at AAPK. If I am in error I apologize for the repetition.
I WAS THERE
I was there on the day the U.S. Cavalry ceased to exist. It was May 1968 and a rainy morning at Ft. Riley, Kansas. Ft. Riley was an old cavalry post but the horses and stables were long gone, replaced by the horsepower of tanks, helicopters and other implements of the modern battlefield. The only remnant of those vanished days was the stone house used by George Custer and his wife Libby.
There was one other connection with times long past when the trumpet daily sounded “Boots and Saddles.” That connection was Chief, the last surviving cavalry horse on the rolls of the U. S. Army. Horses were steadily used until the beginning of World War II when mechanization quickly replaced the service of horses. The last cavalry unit to fight was in the Philippines against the Japanese.
Most Army horses were retired, adopted, or in some manner put out to pasture. But a few were retained, mostly for tourists and recreational riding. Today there are horses near Washington D.C. for special events but they are not Cavalry horses. They are categorized as a special ceremonial unit. The most famous of these was named Blackjack. Countless millions saw him being led through the streets of Washington as he accompanied the casket of John F. Kennedy. Riding boots were placed in the stirrups in reverse position signifying a fallen rider.
The true cavalry horses, designated as such by the Army, gradually died off until only Chief remained. He was foaled in 1932 and entered the Army at about 8 years of age. He died at 36 years of age. A ripe age for a horse. He was popular with the kids living on post. They would often bring him a carrot or piece of sugar.
On the day in question, I was serving as Battalion Adjutant with my office adjacent to that of the Battalion Commander, Lt. Col Hauser. I had gotten into the office early despite a heavy rainfall. When the CO arrived I was surprised to see him wearing his Class A uniform, not the usual fatigue uniform. He wore the Army raincoat but officers are not allowed to carry or use umbrellas so not surprisingly he was dripping wet.
The Colonel explained that Chief had died during the night and all the battalion and brigade commanders had been required to turn out in the early morning hours for the burial. I would have liked a photograph of so many rain drenched field grade officers.
Chief was buried in a horse hero’s casket, meaning he was buried standing up.
A special ceremony was to be held commemorating the closing of the Army cavalry rolls. Many VIPs would arrive from Washington: generals, Secretary of the Army, Under-secretary of the Defense Department and a variety of politicians. For the following days I was plunged into the planning and preparations for this event along with scores of other staff and command officers. All the battalions would be marching, a “pass in review” as it is termed. With so many VIPs present the marching had better be flawless. So, after days of rehearsal the microphones and amplifiers were set up on the parade ground; a large stage constructed where the invited guests would sit; bunting was draped on stage and bleachers; the parade ground was carefully mowed and trimmed; the marching bands practiced; further, preparations had to be made for a substantial lunch for the VIPs following the ceremony. The Army does indeed “march on its stomach.”
In the military, whenever one is involved in the preparation of such special events, there are only two possible outcomes: either a letter of commendation for a job well done or an evaluation that effectively ends any hope of a career. The Army is not a forgiving institution. To put it another way, if a junior embarrasses his senior...well, you know what they say about karma.
The great day arrived and, to my relief, all proceeded splendidly. But the highlight of the event for me took place just a few minutes before the bands struck up and the battalions began to march behind unfurled flags. There was an elderly gentleman standing in the crowd, he had not made it into the bleachers. He had a neatly trimmed short white beard. But what really caught my attention was his apparel. He was immaculately dressed in a U.S. Cavalry uniform of the 1930s: brown uniform, Sam Brown belt with a supporting belt crossing diagonally from his shoulder to his belt, tall cavalry boots almost up to his knees. His leather and buckles gleamed as did the visor on his cap. His insignia of rank revealed he had been a Lt. Colonel. Nearing 80 years of age he was a living Horse Soldier.
What happened next was especially fine. A 4-star general left the viewing platform and approached the former officer. The general saluted and the old timer rendered a snappy salute. (Normally a junior officer first salutes the senior.) Then the general took the cavalryman by the arm and led him up the stairs onto the stage and introduced him to the other generals and VIPs. Each shook his hand. Then he was made to accept a choice seat in the front row. I believe a Major General gave him his chair and moved to the back.
While the troops marched and the bands played “Gary Owen”, the unit march of the 7th Cavalry, the old officer stood ramrod straight with tears glistening.
The main speaker pointed out that the day’s ceremony was not primarily about Chief, rather it was fitting to mark the official closing of an important era, important not only for the Army but an important era for our nation as well. And so it was: the Cavalry was no more, the Horse Soldiers were no more, and Chief was no more.
I WAS THERE
I was there on the day the U.S. Cavalry ceased to exist. It was May 1968 and a rainy morning at Ft. Riley, Kansas. Ft. Riley was an old cavalry post but the horses and stables were long gone, replaced by the horsepower of tanks, helicopters and other implements of the modern battlefield. The only remnant of those vanished days was the stone house used by George Custer and his wife Libby.
There was one other connection with times long past when the trumpet daily sounded “Boots and Saddles.” That connection was Chief, the last surviving cavalry horse on the rolls of the U. S. Army. Horses were steadily used until the beginning of World War II when mechanization quickly replaced the service of horses. The last cavalry unit to fight was in the Philippines against the Japanese.
Most Army horses were retired, adopted, or in some manner put out to pasture. But a few were retained, mostly for tourists and recreational riding. Today there are horses near Washington D.C. for special events but they are not Cavalry horses. They are categorized as a special ceremonial unit. The most famous of these was named Blackjack. Countless millions saw him being led through the streets of Washington as he accompanied the casket of John F. Kennedy. Riding boots were placed in the stirrups in reverse position signifying a fallen rider.
The true cavalry horses, designated as such by the Army, gradually died off until only Chief remained. He was foaled in 1932 and entered the Army at about 8 years of age. He died at 36 years of age. A ripe age for a horse. He was popular with the kids living on post. They would often bring him a carrot or piece of sugar.
On the day in question, I was serving as Battalion Adjutant with my office adjacent to that of the Battalion Commander, Lt. Col Hauser. I had gotten into the office early despite a heavy rainfall. When the CO arrived I was surprised to see him wearing his Class A uniform, not the usual fatigue uniform. He wore the Army raincoat but officers are not allowed to carry or use umbrellas so not surprisingly he was dripping wet.
The Colonel explained that Chief had died during the night and all the battalion and brigade commanders had been required to turn out in the early morning hours for the burial. I would have liked a photograph of so many rain drenched field grade officers.
Chief was buried in a horse hero’s casket, meaning he was buried standing up.
A special ceremony was to be held commemorating the closing of the Army cavalry rolls. Many VIPs would arrive from Washington: generals, Secretary of the Army, Under-secretary of the Defense Department and a variety of politicians. For the following days I was plunged into the planning and preparations for this event along with scores of other staff and command officers. All the battalions would be marching, a “pass in review” as it is termed. With so many VIPs present the marching had better be flawless. So, after days of rehearsal the microphones and amplifiers were set up on the parade ground; a large stage constructed where the invited guests would sit; bunting was draped on stage and bleachers; the parade ground was carefully mowed and trimmed; the marching bands practiced; further, preparations had to be made for a substantial lunch for the VIPs following the ceremony. The Army does indeed “march on its stomach.”
In the military, whenever one is involved in the preparation of such special events, there are only two possible outcomes: either a letter of commendation for a job well done or an evaluation that effectively ends any hope of a career. The Army is not a forgiving institution. To put it another way, if a junior embarrasses his senior...well, you know what they say about karma.
The great day arrived and, to my relief, all proceeded splendidly. But the highlight of the event for me took place just a few minutes before the bands struck up and the battalions began to march behind unfurled flags. There was an elderly gentleman standing in the crowd, he had not made it into the bleachers. He had a neatly trimmed short white beard. But what really caught my attention was his apparel. He was immaculately dressed in a U.S. Cavalry uniform of the 1930s: brown uniform, Sam Brown belt with a supporting belt crossing diagonally from his shoulder to his belt, tall cavalry boots almost up to his knees. His leather and buckles gleamed as did the visor on his cap. His insignia of rank revealed he had been a Lt. Colonel. Nearing 80 years of age he was a living Horse Soldier.
What happened next was especially fine. A 4-star general left the viewing platform and approached the former officer. The general saluted and the old timer rendered a snappy salute. (Normally a junior officer first salutes the senior.) Then the general took the cavalryman by the arm and led him up the stairs onto the stage and introduced him to the other generals and VIPs. Each shook his hand. Then he was made to accept a choice seat in the front row. I believe a Major General gave him his chair and moved to the back.
While the troops marched and the bands played “Gary Owen”, the unit march of the 7th Cavalry, the old officer stood ramrod straight with tears glistening.
The main speaker pointed out that the day’s ceremony was not primarily about Chief, rather it was fitting to mark the official closing of an important era, important not only for the Army but an important era for our nation as well. And so it was: the Cavalry was no more, the Horse Soldiers were no more, and Chief was no more.
- gsmith7158
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Re: I WAS THERE
QS what a beautiful rendition of that ceremony! As we all know time and technology marches on but such a storied unit as the calvary will not be forgotten.
------------------
Greg
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Greg
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- Quick Steel
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Re: I WAS THERE
Well said Greg.
Re: I WAS THERE
QS you paint quite a vivid picture with your words. I read this and could see it in my minds eye. Well done.
Phil
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Jesus died for you. Are you living for Him?
"Buy More Ammo!"
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Re: I WAS THERE
Thank you Phil. I appreciate your very kind feedback.
- jerryd6818
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Re: I WAS THERE
Excellent Garry. Just bloody excellent.
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The Few. The Proud.
Jerry D.
This country has become more about sub-groups than about it's unity as a nation.
"The #72 pattern has got to be pretty close to the perfect knife."
--T.J. Murphy 2012
Re: I WAS THERE
A well told and beautiful story.
Thank You
Thank You
Chris
i woke last night to the sound of thunder
how far off i sat and wondered
started humming a song from nineteen sixty two
aint it funny how the night moves
i woke last night to the sound of thunder
how far off i sat and wondered
started humming a song from nineteen sixty two
aint it funny how the night moves
- RobesonsRme.com
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Re: I WAS THERE
When I was growing up, my Dad was a gun trader. One of his local fellow traders was a man named John Cook. Our families were close. I dated his daughter for a while. Our parents thought we would marry, but that didn't happen.
Mr. Cook was a former cavalryman. He still had his uniforms, belts, spurs, etc.
He used to tell stories about how immaculate they had to be for inspection, including the horses, of course, and there had better not be any fecal matter anywhere near the horse's rear end.
He had lost a leg somewhere, but I do not think it was due to a war injury.
That was a beautiful story Quick Steel. Your telling about the old Lt Col made me think of Mr. Cook.
Thanks for that memory.
Charlie Noyes
Mr. Cook was a former cavalryman. He still had his uniforms, belts, spurs, etc.
He used to tell stories about how immaculate they had to be for inspection, including the horses, of course, and there had better not be any fecal matter anywhere near the horse's rear end.
He had lost a leg somewhere, but I do not think it was due to a war injury.
That was a beautiful story Quick Steel. Your telling about the old Lt Col made me think of Mr. Cook.
Thanks for that memory.
Charlie Noyes
DE OPPRESSO LIBER
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Re: I WAS THERE
Most welcome. With the cavalry the horses always came first whether in garrison or on campaign: wiped down, watered, fed. Heaven help the horse soldier who was found taking care of himself before his horse.
- carrmillus
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Re: I WAS THERE
..this WAS a great story!!....thanks for posting it, QS!!!!......... ..........
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Re: I WAS THERE
Carmillus you and all the guys are so generous in your comments. Gracias.
Re: I WAS THERE
QS, that was fantastic. Wow! Thank you so much for sharing that.
“There are things in the old Book which I may not be able to explain, but I fully accept it as the infallible word of God, and receive its teachings as inspired by the Holy Spirit.”
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Re: I WAS THERE
Quick Steel-
Thank you very much for sharing that.
I sincerely appreciate each and every person who has served our nation.
Thank you especially for passing along a real piece of American History.
I'll say a pray for you and all who have made my life, and the life of my children and grandchildren, blessed.
Thank you very much for sharing that.
I sincerely appreciate each and every person who has served our nation.
Thank you especially for passing along a real piece of American History.
I'll say a pray for you and all who have made my life, and the life of my children and grandchildren, blessed.
Re: I WAS THERE
Just my humble opinion, but this should be a permanaent fixture.
- Quick Steel
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Re: I WAS THERE
Ribbit, Just in case you may be unaware of it, there is a permanent thread for those who would like to share some story or experience. Near the bottom of the main Forum page is a thread titled Mostly True Stories. Here you and others can contribute anything you wish that might be of interest to others. And a big thank you for your prayers.
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Re: I WAS THERE
I appreciate that David. Thank you.
Re: I WAS THERE
Sorry for being late! But I have to also say... Garry, I was riveted reading this! Just excellent! Thank you for sharing and I don't mind admitting, my eyes were moist.
Dave - the new guy.
NRA Life/Endowment
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Re: I WAS THERE
Thank you so much.
Re: I WAS THERE
Very nice! and interesting to say the least, I love stories like this. good job QS thanks for sharing, sincerely Terry Landenberger army Vet.
If it ain't broke, don't fix it!
Re: I WAS THERE
Thanks for the wonderful story. Made me remember my Shetland Pony . Well told story brought a tear to my eyes. Adog
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Re: I WAS THERE
I appreciate your comment Adog. You were blessed to have your own pony.
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Re: I WAS THERE
Well told story. Reminded me of the days I spent teaching Mr. Ed to talk. Had to keep the sessions short so he wouldn't become...hoarse.
This brings to mind...is there anything truly "Custer" left anywhere? The Custer house at Fort Riley is only one that was similar due to the actual house burning down and the other "Custer house" at Fort Abraham Lincoln (State Park) is a rebuild as is the whole fort there.
This brings to mind...is there anything truly "Custer" left anywhere? The Custer house at Fort Riley is only one that was similar due to the actual house burning down and the other "Custer house" at Fort Abraham Lincoln (State Park) is a rebuild as is the whole fort there.
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Re: I WAS THERE
The joke at Ft. Riley was that when Custer left to travel further west he said, "Don't do anything until I get back." And nobody has.