It didn't take Captain Chandler long to realize that he had to carry a heavy load of tradition on his shoulders as commander of Troop H. But what made the load lighter was the realization that every officer, non-com and trooper was ready and willing to help him carry it, for the good of the troop and the regiment.

Maneuvers over, the 7th returned to garrison duty in Tokyo, Captain Chandler still with them. It was the 7th Cavalry whose troopers were charged with guarding the Imperial Palace of the Emperor. But still Mel Chandler was not completely convinced that men would really die for a four syllable word, ``Garryowen.'' The final proof was a small incident.

It happened at the St. Patrick's Day party, a big affair for a regiment which had gone into battle for over three quarters of a century to the strains of an Irish march. In the middle of the party Chandler looked up to see four smiling faces bearing down upon him, each beaming above the biggest, greenest shamrock he had ever seen. The faces belonged to Lieutenant Marvin Goulding, his wife and their two children. And when the singing began, it was the Gouldings who sang the old Irish songs the best.

Though there was an occasional good-natured chuckle about Marvin Goulding, the Jewish officer from Chicago, singing tearfully about the ould sod, no one really thought it was strange. For Marvin Goulding, like Giovanni Martini, the bugler boy who carried Custer's last message, or Margarito Lopez, the one-man Army on Leyte, was a Garryowen, through and through. It was no coincidence that Goulding was one of the most beloved platoon leaders in the regiment.