FOB Spin Boldak is actually two FOBs.  Let me explain.

Initially, the Canadian Army held this place, and they named it FOB Costell.  When the 8^th Squadron, 1^st Cavalry Regiment arrived here in August, it was given a bare piece of land north of where Costello is located.

"There was nothing here except the berm out there," said 1^st Sergeant Ashdon Cannon.  "We've been at work ever since we got here."

The first things the Cavalrymen did was give their FOB a name.  In the tradition of the cavalry, the base received an Indian name, Blackfoot.

"It is a way of honoring their culture and its traditions," said Cannon.

Since the two FOBs - Blackfoot and Costello - are located near the town of Spin Boldak, it is sometimes easier just to refer to the bases as FOB Spin Boldak.

In walking about FOB Blackfoot, there is a distinct and deliberate attempt to maintain a connection with the cavalry's past.

For example, the sign over the entrance to the DFAC, or dining facility, reads "Old Bill's DFAC."

Old Bill is a silhouette of a cavalryman on a horse. 

"The idea comes from a Fredric Remington painting or sculpture," related Sergeant Major Daniel Willing.

"The model for the art was Sgt. John Lannon, G Troop, 3^rd US Cavalry, and the iconic image of the cavalryman the horse has become the symbol of all cavalry."

But no one knows why he's called Old Bill.

Another connection to the past is found on the sign over the entrance to the MWR facility.  It reads, "Fiddlers' Green."

It is a poem about the final resting spot of cavalrymen, and for the soldiers here the MWR is a place where they can rest between missions.

No one knows the poet who wrote this, but it is as follows:

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.