
  A 
  POEM WRITTEN BY DAVE'S GRANDFATHER, MYRON D. CROPPER
  I was in Battery B, 232nd Field Artillary Battalion in the 42nd Rainbow
  Division of the United States Army. We were in combat in France,
  Austria, and Germany.
  When the hostilities ceased we were stationed in Austria in the towns
  near Salxburg and the mountain retreat, The Eagle Nest, of Adolph Hitler
  in Berchtesgaden, Germany.
  In one of the towns, we were billeted in a house up on the side of a
  mountain high enough to overlook a beautiful valley below. When it was
  my turn to be in charge of quarters for a day it was up at dawn and
  ended at dusk.
  During the day I worked at a table in front of a large window looking
  out on the valley. I was so impressed seeing this beautiful valley, now
  so calm and peaceful, that i proceeded to put down on paper everything
  that came into view as the day progressed. This poem is a result of my
  effort and is copyrighted and registered with the Libary of Congress in
  Washington D.C.
  THE CONQURED VALLEY
  >From my window in the valley I see the dawn in the sky
  And the sun's golden brush paint the clouds drifting by
  Then the haze begins to rise and the wind waves the grain
  There is something bright and cheery in the valley once again
  In the background are the mountians
  With their peaks of clean white snow
  And tall stately pine trees on rocky slopes do grow
  The houses scattered everywhere are quaint a site to see
  Overhanging roof and fancy balcony
  The women dressed in costumes the style of long ago
  The children making mischief are running to and fro
  Men in leather breeches with feathers in their caps
  Are on their way to labor with packs upon their backs
  The cows in the pastures slowly make their way
  Grazing dew covered grass of the new born day
  The birds in the trees sing a cheery tune
  And the river cross the valley wends it's way to soon
  The farmers in the fields are cutting their hay
  Making the most of each sunny day
  The mountains that surround us fairly kiss the sky
  As the hours of the day lazily pass by
  All is so calm and surene out of this world like a dream
  And the sun that was high now low in the west
  It's painting a picture that nature does best
  The snow and the clouds are purple and gold
  The shadows grow long the evening is cold
  Beaming over the moutain which seems far away
  The round yellow moon marks the close of another day
  Myron D. Cropper
  Austria 1945
  