Ahh…the sound of the trumpet, smell of horses, a curl of camp smoke in the early dawn of morning. Mount-up! and 40 semi-civilized hard men ride into the wilderness of the Mescalero Nation. Random shots…a hectic charge…and again they vanish into rocky shadows. In dusk of darkness dark blue gold-striped figures ride for the hidden fort and strains of the Garryowen echo across the desert into the distant rocky hills….
“In the Fighting Seventh’s the place for me,
Its the cream of all the Cavalry;
No other regiment ever can claim
Its pride, honor, glory and undying fame.”
1905 7th Calvary version of Garryowen