Staff Sergeant Greg Low had a trademark mustache. White and bushy and never within Army regulations.

SSgt. Low never let regulations get in the way of taking care of a soldier. He was one of the first men I met when I transferred to the Logan Army National Guard unit in 2000. He was the full-time supply sergeant.

There are two men you never wanted to get on the bad side of in the Army. Your first sergeant and your supply sergeant. But of the two, better to be on the bad side of your first sergeant.

Your first sergeant could yell at you, put you on KP Duty, and make life miserable. But your supply sergeant was the one who decided if you had good gear or bad gear, a warm sleeping bag or a worn-out one, and if you have enough bullets, beans, and rations.

Your supply sergeant could help make life in the Army a living hell.

But not SSgt. Low.

I think he loved every soldier that walked through his supply room door. But you may not know it by the look on his face and by the gruffness of his voice.

Those who didn’t take the time to get to know him might say if you looked up the word “ornery” in the dictionary it would have a picture of SSgt. Greg Low next to it.

That might be true, but I never bothered to check.

I didn’t need a dictionary or anyone else to tell me the kind of man SSgt. Low was.

He showed me from day one.

I was a brand new staff sergeant, a section chief for the first time. I was an unknown to the soldiers in this unit and I had a small crew of men to lead. I was excited about my promotion and opportunity but more than a little unsure of myself.

In the process of transferring in and adjusting, SSgt. Low went out of his way to make sure I had what I needed and was taken care of. From that day forward, he always went out of his way to make sure I was doing all right.

He retired not long before we deployed to Iraq, and I retired a little over a year after we returned home. Whenever we would see each other over the years he always made it seem like he was honored to see me.

Last time I saw him was during the North Logan Pumpkin Walk. He was driving the shuttle bus. When I saw he was our driver, I ended up holding up the line of people getting on so I could introduce him to my family who was with me. I was overcome with emotion when I tried to share how much he meant to me.

Staff Sergeant Greg Low passed away last Thursday (read his obituary by clicking here).

He was a father, husband, and grandfather. He was a best friend and hunting buddy to his son Jeff.

He was a neighbor to many who always had a good story to share.

He was the friendly bus driver for the Cache Valley Transit District who had a twinkle in his eye.

And often hidden underneath that trademark mustache was a smile on his lips.

His passing has inspired this little poem.

TO FIDDLER’S GREEN

Go rest ye now ol’ Sergeant Low
Though on the battle rages still
Your artillerymen are fed
Well supplied to shell yonder hill.

Beyond Heaven’s Pearly Gates
And ‘Halfway down the trail to hell’
To Fiddlers’ Green your soul departs
Dip now your canteen in that well.

This King of Battle quiet now
Run well you have life’s mortal race
Eternal life doth beckoned you
Enter into His loving grace. 

I love you, my brother.

Have a great Monday! Thanks for letting me share.

Les Patterson

p.s. Take 13 minutes today to remember someone who has impacted your life for the better. 

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