greetings. i have never really looked further than the fj40 forum and its nice to find this area.
I have been out the service for a while but it feels like only yesterday.
I was Army. 1988-92..... I left as a SPC/E-4, combat mech.
I worked on 113, 577, deuces, 5 tons, M1, m1-a1 after DS, driver, mechanic T.c.'er (before it was reg that an NCO was required to do it), and rigger on an M-88 (instructor qualified h-8 class from Ft Knox ky). THOUGH ...My main MOS was Bradley vehicle system mech..63t-10 I became a 63s-10 and H-8 qualified for organizational maintenance . but the FMC company come in and took all them bradley away and the scouts got hummers to use instead made by AM General.
I was HHC 3/32 armor 1st Cav Div. tiger brigade
(now 1/12 brigade, back to its original roots) My tank unit spearheaded the Wadi al batin, Our unit is in the history books for spear heading operation that captured the regimental guards that were retreating thinking that everyone was coming up from the gulf as if it was a beach invasion.
I have 1972 Fj40 (US version...i wanted a JDM however way to much for me and too much time and energy to find. Would like the turbo diesel though)
Ok I love it but its now been down 6 years, I have the parts parts parts just not the time now or energy to install half my stuff. I have been the owner of the fj in my avatar 20 years now and except for machine shop work and welding, I've taken it down to the bolts and back up. I know every smell and sound and can work better on it with my eyes closed than open. Weird huh?
type in Loosechange in the gallery search I think I have a few Muddy pictures
for all my cavalry brothers and those who want to be one
Fiddlers’ 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 Fiddlers’ Green.
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.
Though some go curving down the trail
To seek a warmer scene.
No trooper ever gets to Hell
Ere he’s emptied his canteen.
And so rides back to drink again
With friends at Fiddlers’ Green.
And so when man and horse go down
Beneath a saber keen,
Or in a roaring charge of fierce melee
You stop a bullet clean,
And the hostiles come to get your scalp,
Just empty your canteen,
And put your pistol to your head
And go to Fiddlers’ Green.