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5 Entries
Liza Stagliano
August 21, 2005
At Rich and Shawna's wedding pre-party, Big Dave and I enjoyed countless laughs as we relaxed by the pool in Florida; we especially laughed as we reminisced about the DeMarco's pool on Huntclub Lane reaching temperatures so high that the water was nearly boiling as a result of the pool-heater being on for numerous days. I know Big Dave had a blast at Rich's wedding pre-party!
Mike Martorelli
August 15, 2005
His Battery F comrades and friends will all miss the humor and the spirit of our "Davey D".
Randy Gilbert
August 10, 2005
Your were truly a great friend and always there ready to help. I will miss you, but you will not be forgotten. We will remember you around the campfire commrade. See you again on Fiddler’s Green.
Richard McFarland
August 10, 2005
Dave was always willing to give a helping hand. A great friend to have around a campfire and at home.
He will be missed!
Daniel, Phyllis and David McLean
August 10, 2005
We are deeply saddened by Dave's passing. We last spoke a couple of weeks ago concerning a young man that was entering USMA West Point. He was in good spirits. We will always remember his superb woodworking skills, humor and portrayal as a Civil War Artilleryman. Battery F will miss him greatly. Because of his reenacting the following is submitted:
The chief of section explains that the souls of the departed eventually end up in heaven or hell. Heaven lies about six miles down the dusty road to eternity, and Redlegs get there by turning left at the first crossroad. From this same junction, hell is about eight or nine miles straight ahead. The road's easy to identify, it's the one paved with good intentions. A little way down the road to hell there's a sign pointing to a trail that runs off to the right of the main road. It reads "Fiddler's Green -- Artillerymen Only."
Then the chief of section teaches them the following poem:
Halfway down the trail to hell,
In a shady meadow green,
Are the souls of many departed Redlegs.
Camped near a good old-time canteen,
And this eternal place
Is known as Fiddler's Green.
Though others must go down the trail,
To seek a warmer scene,
No Redleg ever goes to hell,
Ere he's empties his canteen,
And so returns to drink again
With friends at Fiddler's Green.
The campfires die out, and the Redlegs doze off to sleep, knowing Fiddler's Green awaits them and all their cannon-cocking brethren in the life hereafter.
We'll meet again when Battery F musters at Fiddler's Green.
Our prayers are with you,
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