Post by Mason St. Croix on Jul 16, 2017 21:51:24 GMT
War Stories - 1 of ?
I remember the night Tommy died like it was yesterday.
I met Tommy Cooper in 8th grade at Coastal Middle School on Wilmington Island. His Dad had served in the Army just like mine and CMS was the only school in the county that let 8th graders participate in the Army Junior Reserve Officer Training Corps. Saying Tommy stood out the first day of cadet training at JROTC would be a huge understatement. He was like a chihuahua amongst a pack of wolves. I was already just shy of 6 feet then while Tommy said he was 5’1”. I still think he was lucky if he was 4’11”. As different as we were physically, Tommy and I hit it off the minute we met. I felt the need to protect him, not knowing how much him protecting me years later would change everything.
We went to high school at Benedictine Military School. Tommy’s old man drank a lot so he spent basically all four years of high school at my house. After he finally hit his growth spurt between our freshman and sophomore year Tommy topped out at a whopping 5’6” but he was built like a freaking tank to make up for his lack of stature. We dominated the JROTC competitions and both of us still hold records to this day. When his Dad’s liver finally decided to quit after years of abuse Tommy went to live with his Grandparents in Pennsylvania but I convinced my Dad to talk to them and they let him live with us for our senior year. That was one of the greatest years of my life. We even had a few people believing we were brothers.
Even though it wasn’t by blood I loved the kid like he was really my brother.
After graduation we both enlisted in the Army using the buddy program so that we could go to basic training and be stationed together upon completion. We served our first two tours together but I got promoted and had a kid so we got separated after that. By the time I got the chance to command my own brigade I requested that Tommy be transferred to my unit and it was like we’d never been apart. He was my right hand man from day one and we worked like a well oiled machine. It was great having Tommy there because it was like a little taste of home even if we were on the other side of the world in a hot ass desert with 80lbs of gear strapped to us.
Our reunion would only last a few months though. The two of us along with two other Rangers were on a recon mission just south of Mahmoudiyah when we got ambushed. As soon as the grenade hit the ground a few feet from us Tommy didn’t hesitate to throw himself on it to absorb the explosion. He had saved my life as well as the lives of the two other rangers with us but I lost those men as well in the ensuing fre fight. I was able to call for help after withstanding heavy fire for over an hour. I was the only survivor of a recon team that I lead into an ambush that I should have spotted.
Those are the kind of things that haunt me every night when I close my eyes and sometimes when they’re wide open.
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February 15th 2017-
Mason St. Croix, dressed in jeans and a plain blue t-shirt, stepped off the plane at the Savannah Hilton Head International Airport and made his way through the gates. He immediately spotted the little blonde headed girl holding up the sign that read “Welcome Home, Daddy!” and he ran to her before scooping her up in his arms and embracing here as tears streamed down both of their faces.
Mason: I missed you so much Emmie, I love you.
Emmie: I missed you too Daddy and I love you so much.
Mason sat his daughter down and stuck out his hand to shake the hand off his father, General George St. Croix. The 30 year veteran of the United States Army grabbed his sons outstretched hand and pulled him into a tight manly hug.
George: Missed you, boy.
Mason: I missed you too, Dad.
They break their embrace and Mason looks around anxiously.
Mason: Where’s Jack?
Emmie: He wouldn’t come. He’s back at the house with Grandma.
Mason shoots a shocked look at his father.
Mason: Mom’s back?
George: Hell no, she’s talkin’ about Erica’s mom. Her parents stayed around after the funeral to help with things.
Mason: I’m sorry I couldn’t get back sooner. Getting my discharge took longer than I thought.
George: I understand son, if anyone knows how slow the Army is in processing paperwork it’s me. I been trying to…
Before George could continue what he was saying Emmie cuts him off. Her voice trembled as she spoke.
Emmie: Daddy do you miss Mommy? Jackie said you’re probably glad she’s dead.
Mason hesitated momentarily, taken back by his little girl's question before kneeling down beside her.
Mason: Emmie, I loved your mother more than you’ll ever know and all I ever wanted was for us to be a family but sometimes things don’t go as planned and families don’t stay together. I never wanted anything bad to happen to your Mommy because I know how much you and Jack needed her. I’d give anything if she were still here.
Emmie: Me too…
She leans into him burying her head against his shoulder, her tears staining his shirt.
Mason: Let’s go home, what do you say?
Emmie: Ok Daddy.
Mason takes Emmie by the hand and they walk out of the airport and the scene fades.
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My IWF return didn't turn out like I planned to say the least. I'm also not one to place the blame on others. Even though I wasn't the one who got pinned, I'm just as much at fault for our loss to Ryan Shane and Jayson Matthews as Will Fenell is for taking the fall. If anyone knows how important teamwork is it's me. Being a soldier means you constantly have to rely on your team to watch your back and I failed Will. For that I appologize. It wasn’t the first time I let someone who was counting on me down though and I’m sure it won’t be the last.
All I can do is move on and hope for redemption.
Social media is a concept that I’m pretty new to because I was somewhat preoccupied when it was first becoming a thing. I completely missed the Myspace boom because I was dodging bullets. I’ve heard I didn’t miss much there and now it’s all about Facebook, Instagram, and Snapchat, none of which I partake in so if you see an account for me on there it’s fake. People post everything on those sites. What they’re eating, who they’re dating, when they’re taking a shit. Nothing is private anymore. I’ve had a Twitter since 2010 just because when I was breaking into wrestling a lot of the promoters said I needed one. I rarely post though.
The thing that’s really made me avoid the use of social media the most though is all the political discussion. We were taught early on in the military that politics has no role in the armed forces, and the best way to remain trustworthy is to stay resolutely nonpartisan. I’ve stood by that. I have a job to do no matter who is in charge and who is running the country. That’s why I don’t like seeing the overwhelming amount of political posts online from both sides. If you don’t look at it and don’t let it affect you then you can’t react to it. Unfortunately I signed into Twitter last week and I reacted.
Lindsey Graw is what’s wrong with this country I love.
Fuck your politics Ms. Grawn. I never intended on making this about politics and I still won’t. I want to shut you up and if hurting your “candidate” is how to do that then that’s what I’m going to to do. There was a line of people who wanted to kick James Gilmore’s ass even before I returned to IWF and I jumped to the front of the line because the people in charge know just what I’m capable of. They know that I’m not going to feel sorry for him and that I’m not going to be tricked by something you do to try to get the upper hand. I’m going to hurt James Gilmore that’s just a simple fact that you can’t do a damn thing about no matter how much you tweet.
I would like to apologize to anyone I may have offended with my tweet earlier in the week where I mentioned that I have shot children. Various media outlets even drug my name though the mud with headlines like, “Decorated Army Rangers brags about shooting children on Twitter.” I wasn’t bragging. It’s the truth. It’s not something I’m at all proud of but it was something I would do 10 out of 10 times if the same situation arose because those children were walking talking bombs waiting to kill me and my men as well as innocent civilians. While I’m not proud of it I’m not sorry either.
Just like I won’t be sorry if I happen to cripple James Gilmore.
I’ll continue to address you Lindsey because James is just your puppet. See you have protested the match up between your candidate and myself being made a Submission match but the blame for that happening rests squarely on your shoulders. You constantly tossed the word quit and quitter around when referring to me so I decided I’d ask for the opportunity to make your client quit. It only took one tweet and had they denied my request I would have still handed your boy the ass whooping he deserves either way. When James is getting fitted for his cast and he looks up at you with sheer agony on his face understand that you did that to him. I could have just dropped him on his head and pinned him but no, you let your thumbs rapidly pecking away at your phone earn him a broken bone.
I highly doubt it will but I hope after the beating I give James that you learn to pick and choose who you insult a little better.
I remember the night Tommy died like it was yesterday.
I met Tommy Cooper in 8th grade at Coastal Middle School on Wilmington Island. His Dad had served in the Army just like mine and CMS was the only school in the county that let 8th graders participate in the Army Junior Reserve Officer Training Corps. Saying Tommy stood out the first day of cadet training at JROTC would be a huge understatement. He was like a chihuahua amongst a pack of wolves. I was already just shy of 6 feet then while Tommy said he was 5’1”. I still think he was lucky if he was 4’11”. As different as we were physically, Tommy and I hit it off the minute we met. I felt the need to protect him, not knowing how much him protecting me years later would change everything.
We went to high school at Benedictine Military School. Tommy’s old man drank a lot so he spent basically all four years of high school at my house. After he finally hit his growth spurt between our freshman and sophomore year Tommy topped out at a whopping 5’6” but he was built like a freaking tank to make up for his lack of stature. We dominated the JROTC competitions and both of us still hold records to this day. When his Dad’s liver finally decided to quit after years of abuse Tommy went to live with his Grandparents in Pennsylvania but I convinced my Dad to talk to them and they let him live with us for our senior year. That was one of the greatest years of my life. We even had a few people believing we were brothers.
Even though it wasn’t by blood I loved the kid like he was really my brother.
After graduation we both enlisted in the Army using the buddy program so that we could go to basic training and be stationed together upon completion. We served our first two tours together but I got promoted and had a kid so we got separated after that. By the time I got the chance to command my own brigade I requested that Tommy be transferred to my unit and it was like we’d never been apart. He was my right hand man from day one and we worked like a well oiled machine. It was great having Tommy there because it was like a little taste of home even if we were on the other side of the world in a hot ass desert with 80lbs of gear strapped to us.
Our reunion would only last a few months though. The two of us along with two other Rangers were on a recon mission just south of Mahmoudiyah when we got ambushed. As soon as the grenade hit the ground a few feet from us Tommy didn’t hesitate to throw himself on it to absorb the explosion. He had saved my life as well as the lives of the two other rangers with us but I lost those men as well in the ensuing fre fight. I was able to call for help after withstanding heavy fire for over an hour. I was the only survivor of a recon team that I lead into an ambush that I should have spotted.
Those are the kind of things that haunt me every night when I close my eyes and sometimes when they’re wide open.
------
February 15th 2017-
Mason St. Croix, dressed in jeans and a plain blue t-shirt, stepped off the plane at the Savannah Hilton Head International Airport and made his way through the gates. He immediately spotted the little blonde headed girl holding up the sign that read “Welcome Home, Daddy!” and he ran to her before scooping her up in his arms and embracing here as tears streamed down both of their faces.
Mason: I missed you so much Emmie, I love you.
Emmie: I missed you too Daddy and I love you so much.
Mason sat his daughter down and stuck out his hand to shake the hand off his father, General George St. Croix. The 30 year veteran of the United States Army grabbed his sons outstretched hand and pulled him into a tight manly hug.
George: Missed you, boy.
Mason: I missed you too, Dad.
They break their embrace and Mason looks around anxiously.
Mason: Where’s Jack?
Emmie: He wouldn’t come. He’s back at the house with Grandma.
Mason shoots a shocked look at his father.
Mason: Mom’s back?
George: Hell no, she’s talkin’ about Erica’s mom. Her parents stayed around after the funeral to help with things.
Mason: I’m sorry I couldn’t get back sooner. Getting my discharge took longer than I thought.
George: I understand son, if anyone knows how slow the Army is in processing paperwork it’s me. I been trying to…
Before George could continue what he was saying Emmie cuts him off. Her voice trembled as she spoke.
Emmie: Daddy do you miss Mommy? Jackie said you’re probably glad she’s dead.
Mason hesitated momentarily, taken back by his little girl's question before kneeling down beside her.
Mason: Emmie, I loved your mother more than you’ll ever know and all I ever wanted was for us to be a family but sometimes things don’t go as planned and families don’t stay together. I never wanted anything bad to happen to your Mommy because I know how much you and Jack needed her. I’d give anything if she were still here.
Emmie: Me too…
She leans into him burying her head against his shoulder, her tears staining his shirt.
Mason: Let’s go home, what do you say?
Emmie: Ok Daddy.
Mason takes Emmie by the hand and they walk out of the airport and the scene fades.
------
My IWF return didn't turn out like I planned to say the least. I'm also not one to place the blame on others. Even though I wasn't the one who got pinned, I'm just as much at fault for our loss to Ryan Shane and Jayson Matthews as Will Fenell is for taking the fall. If anyone knows how important teamwork is it's me. Being a soldier means you constantly have to rely on your team to watch your back and I failed Will. For that I appologize. It wasn’t the first time I let someone who was counting on me down though and I’m sure it won’t be the last.
All I can do is move on and hope for redemption.
Social media is a concept that I’m pretty new to because I was somewhat preoccupied when it was first becoming a thing. I completely missed the Myspace boom because I was dodging bullets. I’ve heard I didn’t miss much there and now it’s all about Facebook, Instagram, and Snapchat, none of which I partake in so if you see an account for me on there it’s fake. People post everything on those sites. What they’re eating, who they’re dating, when they’re taking a shit. Nothing is private anymore. I’ve had a Twitter since 2010 just because when I was breaking into wrestling a lot of the promoters said I needed one. I rarely post though.
The thing that’s really made me avoid the use of social media the most though is all the political discussion. We were taught early on in the military that politics has no role in the armed forces, and the best way to remain trustworthy is to stay resolutely nonpartisan. I’ve stood by that. I have a job to do no matter who is in charge and who is running the country. That’s why I don’t like seeing the overwhelming amount of political posts online from both sides. If you don’t look at it and don’t let it affect you then you can’t react to it. Unfortunately I signed into Twitter last week and I reacted.
Lindsey Graw is what’s wrong with this country I love.
Fuck your politics Ms. Grawn. I never intended on making this about politics and I still won’t. I want to shut you up and if hurting your “candidate” is how to do that then that’s what I’m going to to do. There was a line of people who wanted to kick James Gilmore’s ass even before I returned to IWF and I jumped to the front of the line because the people in charge know just what I’m capable of. They know that I’m not going to feel sorry for him and that I’m not going to be tricked by something you do to try to get the upper hand. I’m going to hurt James Gilmore that’s just a simple fact that you can’t do a damn thing about no matter how much you tweet.
I would like to apologize to anyone I may have offended with my tweet earlier in the week where I mentioned that I have shot children. Various media outlets even drug my name though the mud with headlines like, “Decorated Army Rangers brags about shooting children on Twitter.” I wasn’t bragging. It’s the truth. It’s not something I’m at all proud of but it was something I would do 10 out of 10 times if the same situation arose because those children were walking talking bombs waiting to kill me and my men as well as innocent civilians. While I’m not proud of it I’m not sorry either.
Just like I won’t be sorry if I happen to cripple James Gilmore.
I’ll continue to address you Lindsey because James is just your puppet. See you have protested the match up between your candidate and myself being made a Submission match but the blame for that happening rests squarely on your shoulders. You constantly tossed the word quit and quitter around when referring to me so I decided I’d ask for the opportunity to make your client quit. It only took one tweet and had they denied my request I would have still handed your boy the ass whooping he deserves either way. When James is getting fitted for his cast and he looks up at you with sheer agony on his face understand that you did that to him. I could have just dropped him on his head and pinned him but no, you let your thumbs rapidly pecking away at your phone earn him a broken bone.
I highly doubt it will but I hope after the beating I give James that you learn to pick and choose who you insult a little better.
Well howdy there pardner.