To the Fighting Tigers of Louisiana,

From the hand of General Wade,
long exiled yet never defeated.

My steadfast Tigers,
Word has reached me across the marshes and pine flats that you yet stand watch upon the ramparts of Baton Rouge, your banners weary but unfallen, your spirits dimmed yet not extinguished. Know this: though I was once relieved of command and cast out to the distant plains of southwest Louisiana, my heart never departed from the purple and gold standard beneath which we once marched to victory.

In those days, we carved triumph from adversity and struck fear into the ranks of every foe who dared challenge the Tiger host. Our campaigns were swift, our formations disciplined, and our will unbreakable. Yet in the hour of our greatest momentum, I was stripped of my command and banished, my honor questioned, my name spoken only in hushed tones among the high councils.
But exile is not defeat.

Upon the lonely plains I gathered my strength and sharpened my mind, proving once more that a general is not made by title, but by triumph. Thereafter I was summoned to the Research Triangle, where a new band of warriors—the Wolfpack—required leadership. There again did I show the art of war: swift maneuvers, disciplined ranks, and early victories that stirred the drums of battle once more.

Time, however, is the great revealer of truth.

The character of war changed, and what was once condemned—the paying of soldiers for their loyalty and valor—became the accepted custom of the realm. The transgression for which I was cast aside became law of the land.

Meanwhile, my beloved Tigers struggled in my absence. Their formations faltered, their assaults lost direction, and the once-mighty battalion wandered the battlefield without a steady hand to guide them. General McMahon, though earnest in spirit, proved unequal to the ferocity of the SEC campaigns, and the Tiger host found itself adrift in troubled waters.

Yet Providence has turned the tide.
A great shakeup in the halls of state leadership has rung like a liberty bell across the South, and I have been summoned home—called back to the very ground where our banners once flew highest. I return not as a man seeking redemption, but as a general answering the call of his soldiers.

My Tigers, prepare yourselves.

Sharpen your blades.?Raise your banners.?Beat the drums of March.
For we shall once more take the court together. We shall restore discipline to the ranks, courage to the charge, and victory to the purple and gold. The ship shall be righted, the standard lifted high, and the Tiger Battalion shall again dance in March beneath the roaring cheers of the tiger faithful.

Stand ready, for your General returns.
With honor, resolve, and the promise of victory.

General Wade?
Commander of the Tigers,
Restored?Servant of the Purple and Gold