Post by Deleted on Jan 30, 2010 11:39:18 GMT -5
For thousands of years ambitious young men and women have competed in sport. The finest of these competitors exhibit a tireless work ethic and willingness to sacrifice that separates them from their peers. Those same attributes are commonplace among America’s military veterans. Metaphors such as “war” and “battle” are often used as part of the sporting lexicon to describe contests between fierce athletic rivals. No one would honestly suggest that sports are comparable to actual warfare, but the lessons that are learned in military combat can certainly be applied to athletic competition, and life in general for that matter.
That is why WCF superstar Chad Evans has decided to pay a visit to the VFW (Veterans of Foreign Wars) Hall in Wallingford, Connecticut on the eve of the biggest wrestling match of his young career. Chad believes that there is much wisdom and perspective to be gained by heeding the words of those who understand sacrifice and conflict better than anyone. Chad has come to the VFW Hall today to meet with one man in particular. O’Leary Braxton is a decorated Army veteran who earned a Purple Heart after being injured in battle in Vietnam. Mr. Braxton has been confined to a wheelchair for nearly four decades as a result of those injuries. Today Mr. Braxton shares his story with Chad.
Chad Evans: “I want to thank you for agreeing to speak with me today and for sharing your story, Mr. Braxton. I know that it must be difficult to talk about some of your experiences. Please begin wherever you wish.”
Mr. Braxton is a man of nearly 60 years of age with thinning gray hair and a mustache. The mental and physical pain that he’s endured is etched as if by chisel in the wrinkles on his face. Chad is seated next to Mr. Braxton. He listens astutely as Mr. Braxton begins to speak. Mr. Braxton’s voice is strong and his tone is calm.
O’Leary Braxton: “I suppose that I should start at the very beginning. My name is O’Leary Braxton. I was born and raised right here in Wallingford, Connecticut in 1952. My father Jack worked at the mill. My mother Alma was a homemaker. She worked harder than anyone that I’ve ever seen. She cooked, she cleaned the house, she did the laundry, she ran errands, all the while raising my siblings and me. She was a saint and my father was a great man. Together they raised us right and taught us to respect American values. They instilled us with a belief that our greatest loyalties are to God, family and country, in that order. They also taught us the value of hard work. When I was thirteen I began my first job, working part-time in a garage in the neighborhood. I’ve always loved cars. I was also a good student in school. I received mostly A’s with a few B’s. I had a dream of earning a scholarship to college so that I could learn about architecture. That’s a crazy ambition for a young man, isn’t it? I loved cars but I wanted to be an architect like Frank Lloyd Wright. For me Americana was all about the buildings and landmarks that form our cities and towns.”
O’Leary chuckles to himself while fondly recalling his youthful ambition. Chad smiles.
O’Leary Braxton: “Shortly after I graduated from high school in 1969 my life took a much different turn than I was expecting. Instead of going to college I was drafted into the Vietnam War. That was the Summer of Love, when all the hippies marched and protested the war, but for me and most of the neighborhood there wasn’t any real stigma associated with Vietnam. I was raised in a working class, blue-collar neighborhood. There wasn’t any dissent around there. If your government told you to serve, then you served. It was your civic duty, like paying taxes or appearing for jury duty. In our minds the anti-war protesters were aiding America’s enemies.”
O’Leary pauses. He swallows before continuing his story.
O’Leary Braxton: “I was drafted into the War along with a group of local boys. After receiving our basic training down South we were sent over to ‘Nam. We were assigned to Atlantis Company in the Fighting Battalion of New Haven, Connecticut. To say the least, we were damn proud to serve our country.”
O’Leary reaches into the pants pocket of his fading military fatigues and pulls out his wallet. He reaches into the wallet and pulls out a photograph. He gazes at the photograph in a moment of silent introspection before handing it to Chad. It’s a photograph of a group of young soldiers, many of them smiling and some even laughing. They appear to be legitimately happy not just posing for the camera.
O’Leary Braxton: “That’s me on the far right.”
O’Leary points to himself in the photograph. Chad nods as he admires the image.
Chad Evans: “Your hair was noticeably darker back then, Mr. Braxton.”
O’Leary laughs and Chad smiles at him.
O’Leary Braxton: “That it was, my boy. That it was.”
Chad hands the photograph back to O’Leary, who carefully tucks it into his wallet.
O’Leary Braxton: “We were a confident group. We knew that we were going to win the War just like our fathers who had served in WW2. We were also young men with hopes and dreams that reached far beyond any military conflict. We weren’t going to let a silly war derail our ambitions of family and career. We thought we had it figured out… but we had no idea of what lie ahead for us.”
O’Leary shakes his head and begins to stroke his mustache.
O’Leary Braxton: “By the time that I was six months into my tour of Vietnam I had encountered my share of hairy situations. I had also proven that I was a natural born sniper with courage under fire, earning me the respect of my peers and commanding officers. I was promoted to the rank of Specialist and re-assigned to a platoon of Specialists. Our first mission was to breach a known Viet Cong village and eliminate all enemy forces. As our platoon made its approach to the village we marched through swamps for what felt like days. Eventually we reached a clearing. The Viet Cong village was just on the other side of the clearing, a few clicks to the north… we never made it to the village.”
O’Leary lets out a troubled sigh.
O’Leary Braxton: “We were ambushed by the VC. It was…horrific. The sights and sounds of hot lead slicing through young men’s skin was like nothing that I can describe. By that time I was used to the soundtrack of war, the gunfire, the screams, but not from my own boys. I had never seen American soldiers gunned down like that. They were just kids, damn it…they were just kids. We were all just kids.”
O’Leary pauses and takes a moment to compose himself before continuing his story.
O’Leary Braxton: “I fired on everything that moved. I was fighting for my life but I was not afraid. I did not accept fear. How could I? In order to be fearful one must have time to think about their predicament and time was not something that I had. All I knew was that I was not going to accept death as a possibility even though it was all that I saw around me. I was able to pin back the VC forces with my gunfire and it was then that I radioed for help. I would have made it out of there, mostly unscathed, by the grace of God… if I hadn’t stepped on that land mine.”
O’Leary’s eyes drift downward. He lets out a grieved sigh to unburden his heavy heart. Chad struggles to choke back his tears, though he does not speak or move, he only listens.
O’Leary Braxton: “I don’t remember anything after that. My next memory is waking up in a MASH unit with tubes in my body and bloody stumps where my legs had previously been. I was hysterical. Some time later I returned home from the war. I was in a wheelchair, but at least I returned home. I was the only member of Atlantis Company who did return home…without a body bag. The Army awarded me a Purple Heart for being injured during battle, as if that were some consolation for witnessing the horrors of war and losing my legs. I was tempted to throw my Purple Heart away like so many other soldiers who served in ‘Nam, but I didn’t…I couldn’t. I told myself that I was keeping it as a reminder, a souvenir of my service, but that’s hardly true. I hardly need any additional reminders. I kept my Purple Heart because I earned it, damn it. It might be worthless to me, but I earned it.”
O’Leary pauses to collect his thoughts before continuing.
O’Leary Braxton: “People often ask me if I’m a bitter man because of what happened in Vietnam. I am many things but I will never be bitter. However I do have regrets. I regret killing my fellow man, though I did so in the line of duty for my country. I did so in defense of my military brothers and myself. That doesn’t make the guilt go away. I am a Christian and I’ve asked God for forgiveness for my sins many times through the years. I’ve often wondered if taking my legs was the Lord’s retribution for my killing of another. Believe me it was not my life’s ambition to take another man’s life. I wanted to be an architect, get married to a pretty girl and start a family. Believe it or not, Chad… I accomplished each of those things.”
Chad smiles as he wipes the tears from his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.
O’Leary Braxton: “I lost my legs but I didn’t lose my mojo. Some people call me a cripple but they don’t know the half of it. Of course I wish that I hadn’t lost my legs, but not for the selfish reasons that most people think. I hate the fact that I couldn’t do all of the things that a father should do with his kids, running, jumping, riding bikes, playing sports. I hate that my family has had to accommodate for my handicap. I’m supposed to be making their lives easier, instead they’ve been burdened with making my life easier. I hate that I haven’t exactly been able to do everything that a man is supposed to do with his wife, for his wife. Despite any regrets that I have, I want to be perfectly clear that I don’t feel sorry for myself. I consider myself one of the lucky ones. Things could have been so much worse for me. I could have been killed or paralyzed like so many others who served. With the wonders of modern medical science I might even be able to walk again with the use of prosthetics.”
O’Leary shakes his head and smiles in amazement.
O’Leary Braxton: “I don’t believe that I would have been able to survive in Vietnam without God watching over me. Speaking of God, there’s something that I’ve always found strange about the rhetoric of God and war. Every time in my lifetime that America has entered a military conflict, I’ve heard people say that God is on our side. I’m sure that the other side tells themselves the same thing. How does God choose sides in a war? Why does God allow war to happen at all? I don’t think war is God’s doing. I think war is the result of political blunders. I’m not anti-American mind you. I bled for this country and I gave my legs for this country, but I just get so frustrated sometimes. I see our government repeating so many of the mistakes of the past. I see the American people eagerly supporting politicians who call for more war, more troops overseas. I see young men and women leaving their families behind with tears in their eyes. How can we be right when we cause so much pain? When will we learn? Maybe it’s an unrealistic thought, but I honestly believe that if America were neutral like Switzerland then the world would be a peaceful place. That’s just my two cents.”
Chad nods his head in agreement.
Chad Evans: “Mr. Braxton, I want to thank you for your time today. It’s been an honor to meet you and absorb this knowledge that you have accumulated in your life experiences. I cannot thank you enough for your service to this country. Your sacrifice and the sacrifices of your brothers in arms did not come in vain. You serve as a beacon of courage and integrity. I apologize on behalf of the American people for the losses that you’ve experienced.”
O’Leary waves his hand at Chad.
O’Leary Braxton: “Don’t apologize, Chad. It’s not your fault. You’re one of the few young people who understand this nation’s history. You seek knowledge because you understand that knowledge is the mother of progress. I salute you, young man.”
Chad Evans: “No, sir. I salute you.”
Chad pulls his chair closer to Mr. Braxton. They shake hands and embrace in a tearful hug.
Chad Evans: “Thank you, sir. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
O’Leary Braxton: “Thank you for caring, Chad. Thank you for asking questions and demanding answers.”
Today was a learning experience for young Chad. The 23-year old received a history lesson from one of America’s bravest. After soaking in Mr. Braxton’s harrowing yet enlightening story, Chad decides that it’s time to unwind. He hops into his 1970 Stingray Convertible (“Sweet Judy”) and drives across town to the pub. Upon arriving at the pub Chad takes a seat at a table by himself in the corner. He doesn’t want a lot of chit-chat right now, he just wants to be alone with his thoughts. The waitress who takes Chad’s order is a real cutie pie, blond girl with sweet tits and legs for days. Chad thinks about squeezing her caboose in that tight skirt but he decides against it. Chad’s in a solemn mood today. He’ll wait until after he’s finished with his drink to take the waitress home and lay her down in his bed. What’s Chad drinking today? Stiff shot of scotch, no ice, beer on the side. Chad drinks them both down like they’re water and takes a moment to collect his thoughts for the day.
Chad Evans: “We live in a cruel and sadistic world. Some are asked to give all for causes that don’t add up, a façade of lies. I am eternally grateful for the courageous service of men and women like Mr. O’Leary Braxton. I curse the politicians who exploit such courageous and talented people by sending them to fight in unjust wars. I also curse the society that allows these politicians to get away with murder. George W. Bush and the members of his administration should be facing a war crimes tribunal. They should be destined for the same fate as their fellow mass murderer Saddam Hussein. Instead of toiling in prison cells and awaiting a jury to hand down their fate, they reside in the comfort of luxurious, palatial mansions without an ounce of guilt on their conscience. America once had a conscience. My parents’ generation had the courage to challenge the establishment and rise in opposition to the Vietnam War, even though their parents’ generation supported it.”
A proud smile creeps across Chad’s face as he focuses intently on the lecture at hand.
Chad Evans: “In the summer of love, millions of hippies marched barefoot in the streets, daring to walk upon serrated edges of broken grass to voice their support for peace and opposition to war. The Gestapo police forces and their draconian political overlords tried to silence these brave souls through means of violence and intimidation, but the righteous do not fear retribution from the evil forces at work. Unfortunately those in power did not have the same courage as the brave protestors. The Vietnam War dragged on until 1975 when the fall of Saigon signaled an end to America’s involvement in Vietnam. By that time the American public had long since turned its back on the revolutionary movement of the late sixties. The sad reality of any revolution is that it’s not easy fighting the good fight. It wears on the mind and body. My parents’ generation gradually abandoned their principles. They went from lovers and freedom fighters to yuppies and yes-men. They birthed a generation that is apathetic to issues of peace and justice. That is my generation, young minds that care more about reality television and Tweeting with their friends than relevant social and political issues. We stand idly by as one dictator hands the controls to the next, each gradually increasing the government’s role in our lives and subjugating the freedoms that our country was founded upon.”
Chad shakes his head in exasperation, struggling to understand the apathy of his peers.
Chad Evans: “When I think about terrorists the names that immediately spring to mind are Ronald Reagan, George H.W. Bush, Bill Clinton, George W. Bush and Barack Obama. Each of these men and their respective administrations are guilty of a litany of crimes against humanity. They each have waged unjust campaigns of military aggression abroad. They each have manipulated the markets through the machinations of the Federal Reserve. They each have awarded trillions of dollars in corporate welfare to the financially affluent and ethically bankrupt corporate ringleaders who take residence upon the smoldering ruins of American industry. This government has devalued its currency to the verge of rendering it obsolete, blamed the fallout from its market manipulations upon the private sector, and used those lies to justify increased government intervention. More taxes, more government control, less freedom for the people. As if creating economic chaos weren’t bad enough, this government is also guilty of turning America into a police state. Americans have been trained to suspect all brown-skinned people of Middle Eastern descent as being terrorists, Jihadists or otherwise Muslim extremists.”
Chad flips his hands into the air, looking for somebody to smack in the head at his empty table.
Chad Evans: “What becomes of those who oppose the government’s policies? We’ve been defamed as so-called domestic terrorists, spied on by our government and imprisoned without so much as being charged with a crime. All of this is designed to intimidate us and silence our voice of dissent. The government has tried to turn Americans against each other. They’ve tried to divide and conquer. They’ve used fear and paranoia to manipulate us and turn our attention away from some very alarming facts. Our government’s interventionist foreign policy has been inciting the terrorist attacks that have taken place on American soil. As if that weren’t bad enough the government has failed in their responsibility to defend us against these attacks, despite the trillions of dollars that they spend on the military and intelligence budgets. They fail to protect us, fail to heed the warning signs of terrorist threats, and exploit tragedies such as 9/11 to give themselves greater authority, strip us of our rights and start new wars abroad. They send hundreds of thousands of brave young men and women to fight in wars overseas, all the while failing to recognize that our continued military presence in the Middle East is increasing hostility toward our country. Despite their omnipresent system of surveillance they still cannot prevent tragedies such as the Fort Hood Shooting or near tragedy such as the Nigerian underwear bomber. Yet they have the audacity to tell us that we should surrender even more of our freedoms, allow ourselves to be x-rayed at airports, because that’s how the US government is going to defeat terrorism. It’s outrageous!”
Chad takes another oh-so-stiff shot of scotch and shakes his head in a frantic effort to shake loose some cobwebs.
Chad Evans: “If you think that all of that is a mouthful then just wake up and take a look around. What happened to the revolutionary spirit that America was founded upon? What happened to the revolutionary spirit that defined the sixties? What happened to the passion and defiance of young people? My generation got old. My generation got so old. We grew up on cable television and video games, far removed from the realities of the world beyond our front door. We must come to the realization that our parents have failed us and so has the system. Ron Paul is a good man, but Ron Paul is ancient and he cannot fight the good fight by himself. I must be accountable for my generation. I must lead by example. If I don’t stand up for my country then who will? It won’t be entertainment industry fads like Perez Hilton or the cast of Jersey Shore. It won’t be political talking heads like Rush Limbaugh or Sarah Palin. It won’t be the current crop of politically apathetic pop singers such as Katy Perry, Lady GaGa and Ke$ha. When I look toward my field of employment I notice a distinct lack of Muhammad Ali’s and Jim Brown’s, great athletes who used sports as a platform for social change. Today’s athletes would rather suck from the teat of their corporate masters such as Nike and Coca-Cola. That’s fool’s gold. Soon enough the Yankee dollar won’t be worth the paper that it’s printed on, but even before that day comes the government continues to steal most of our earnings through excessive taxation. That applies to those of us in the working class with even greater resonance. If your iPhone and your Xbox keep you fat and happy then you’re missing the point entirely.”
Chad cackles wildly at the fools who are system slaves and succumb to subversion.
Chad Evans: “I am fortunate enough to be a liberated man. The only teats from which I suck belong to my girlfriend. The only ass that I kiss is firm, shapely and female. I am subservient only to a luscious young lady. The government and the corporate establishment can kiss my ass. Soon enough all of the politicians and their corporate overlords will tremble at my feet and beg me for mercy. I will show them none as I disembowel their innards with my thrusting palms. My first step toward that goal of abolishing the establishment comes on Sunday night in Reading, Pennsylvania. It is painfully obvious to me that a defeated man cannot spark the brushfires of revolution in the hearts and minds of his fellow Americans. That is why I cannot allow Johnny Reb to defeat me, no matter how badly I might want him to, and regardless of how tempted I might be. Johnny Reb is precisely the kind of man that I admire. He’s strong, handsome and fiercely independent. In a different context I would be thrilled to bow at Johnny Reb’s feet and call him my daddy. It would be my pleasure to be humbled and dominated by the Inveterate Confederate. I would rather suck Johnny Reb off than fight him.”
Chad closes his eyes and licks his lips, savoring the thought.
Chad Evans: “Alas the hands of fate have drawn us together as opponents rather than lovers. For that I am truly regretful. I will make a conscious effort to focus the brunt of my wrath upon Doc Henry this Sunday night. I find it ironic that Johnny Reb and I are on opposite sides of battle. It’s a lot like the Civil War, because the two of us would be much stronger united than divided. Can you imagine the team that Johnny and I would form if we dumped our hapless tag team partners? We could call ourselves The New American Hot Rods. We would dominant opponents inside of the ring and dominate each other inside of the bedroom. We would live in perfect bliss and harmony. Sadly this cannot be as the circumstances disallow it from happening. It’s sad because my girlfriend and I both want your cock, Johnny. It would be pointless to deny that. I might have defeated you by the hair of my smooth, clean-shaven chin when we fought on Slam last week, but I felt the power of your cock on that Sunday night in Baltimore. I felt the power of your cock and it excited me, Johnny. I was trying to win the match but I’m not ashamed to admit that there was a part of me that ached to feel the Stars & Bars or the Southern Hospitality. I wanted you to make me beg for mercy, knowing that you would show me none. Hell, when you locked me in the Sweet Water Sleeper I damn near jizzed in my tights. You would have defeated me right then and there if I didn’t have such an intimate knowledge of Dragon sleepers and their various counters.”
Chad taps the temple of his head with his index finger.
Chad Evans: “You might be shocked to hear that you turn me on, Johnny. You’re a Southerner and as such you’re probably not as open-minded as I am. I understand your perspective but I cannot relate to it. I think that you are a beautiful man and I want your body. That’s the burden of my ability to love all people and my refusal to shackle myself with society’s views on sexuality. I’ve been attracted to men before but never an opponent. You’re the first one. To be honest you make it hard for me to focus on business, hard being the operative term. However none of that matters in the long haul, Johnny. Your face, abs and buttocks are sublime, but in the ring I’ll be thinking about all of the workers and families that I’m fighting for. As much as I might want to fall down at your feet, succumb to your will and passionately lick every orifice of your body, I know that I cannot let those people down. They are my supporters and without them I am nothing. Without their support all of the sexual gratification in the world is vapid and meaningless. The Royal Family will defeat The New Confederacy for the WCF Tag Team Titles at Ten, though I must admit that I will wear your title belt with a heavy heart, Johnny. It saddens me that a man of your considerable talents will not be a champion after Ten.”
Chad shakes his head with an “it’s a goddamn shame” expression on his face.
Chad Evans: “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Johnny. I love watching you wrestle. I love watching you wrestle because you’re a beautiful man and an exceptional athlete. You have proven that you are an elite wrestler who deserves to call himself a champion. You’re my second favorite wrestler in WCF, after Anastasia Petrova. That’s a woman whose bathwater I would drink. I don’t know if I would drink your bathwater, Johnny, but I might take a sip. Oh who am I kidding? I lapped up the droplets of water in your shower after Slam last week! Did you know that you taste like apricots? Mmm…”
Chad strokes his manhood through his pants as he thinks back to the sweet taste.
Chad Evans: “As much as I admire and respect you, Johnny, and as horny as you make me, your tag team partner is a completely different story. Doc Henry is a paper champion if I have ever seen one. Doc is riding your coattails like Prince Jimmy Dean is riding mine. It appears that Doc and Jimmy are the Marty Jannetty of our respective tandems. I must say that it’s a bitch carrying a grown man on my back when there’s no sexual intercourse involved. Of course I never did like dicks up the ass, and quite frankly I feel like I’m getting screwed by my partner. Blowjobs, rimjobs and shrimping are one thing, but I’ll be damned if I’ll do anal. Prince Jimmy would be well advised to heed my words. Then again so would you, Johnny. If you ignore what I am saying then this title reign will end just like your last. How did it feel watching Masaya Mikami tap out to the Southern Hospitality after Torture snuck into the ring, thrust you aside and snatched a rightfully earned victory from your hands? How did it feel when Torture ripped the WCF World Title from your grasp without even beating you? Did it break your heart? Did it crush your spirits? Did it feel like a bad dream? I’m sorry to say that you’re going to relive that nightmare on Sunday night in Reading, Pennsylvania. I will not defeat you again as I did last week, Johnny. I will not defeat you again because I don’t want to and I don’t have to. Instead I will make Doc Henry tap out to the Way of the Dragon and I will take your title away from you without beating you, just as Torture did.”
Chad slumps in his seat and hangs his head, with a sad expression on his face.
Chad Evans: “It hurts me to say those words, Johnny. You deserve so much better. You deserve the world in the palm of your hand. You’re a great man and I love you dearly, even if you hate me for the things that I’ve said and done during the course of our rivalry. Unfortunately you will not be the first great man to see his hopes and dreams shattered.”
While Chad drinks himself into a stupor at the pub, O’Leary Braxton sits silently in his wheelchair at the VFW Hall across town. He stares at the photo of Atlantis Company that was taken more than four decades ago during the height of the Vietnam War. The smiling and laughing faces in the photo stare back at him, haunting him, the lone survivor from his company.
That is why WCF superstar Chad Evans has decided to pay a visit to the VFW (Veterans of Foreign Wars) Hall in Wallingford, Connecticut on the eve of the biggest wrestling match of his young career. Chad believes that there is much wisdom and perspective to be gained by heeding the words of those who understand sacrifice and conflict better than anyone. Chad has come to the VFW Hall today to meet with one man in particular. O’Leary Braxton is a decorated Army veteran who earned a Purple Heart after being injured in battle in Vietnam. Mr. Braxton has been confined to a wheelchair for nearly four decades as a result of those injuries. Today Mr. Braxton shares his story with Chad.
Chad Evans: “I want to thank you for agreeing to speak with me today and for sharing your story, Mr. Braxton. I know that it must be difficult to talk about some of your experiences. Please begin wherever you wish.”
Mr. Braxton is a man of nearly 60 years of age with thinning gray hair and a mustache. The mental and physical pain that he’s endured is etched as if by chisel in the wrinkles on his face. Chad is seated next to Mr. Braxton. He listens astutely as Mr. Braxton begins to speak. Mr. Braxton’s voice is strong and his tone is calm.
O’Leary Braxton: “I suppose that I should start at the very beginning. My name is O’Leary Braxton. I was born and raised right here in Wallingford, Connecticut in 1952. My father Jack worked at the mill. My mother Alma was a homemaker. She worked harder than anyone that I’ve ever seen. She cooked, she cleaned the house, she did the laundry, she ran errands, all the while raising my siblings and me. She was a saint and my father was a great man. Together they raised us right and taught us to respect American values. They instilled us with a belief that our greatest loyalties are to God, family and country, in that order. They also taught us the value of hard work. When I was thirteen I began my first job, working part-time in a garage in the neighborhood. I’ve always loved cars. I was also a good student in school. I received mostly A’s with a few B’s. I had a dream of earning a scholarship to college so that I could learn about architecture. That’s a crazy ambition for a young man, isn’t it? I loved cars but I wanted to be an architect like Frank Lloyd Wright. For me Americana was all about the buildings and landmarks that form our cities and towns.”
O’Leary chuckles to himself while fondly recalling his youthful ambition. Chad smiles.
O’Leary Braxton: “Shortly after I graduated from high school in 1969 my life took a much different turn than I was expecting. Instead of going to college I was drafted into the Vietnam War. That was the Summer of Love, when all the hippies marched and protested the war, but for me and most of the neighborhood there wasn’t any real stigma associated with Vietnam. I was raised in a working class, blue-collar neighborhood. There wasn’t any dissent around there. If your government told you to serve, then you served. It was your civic duty, like paying taxes or appearing for jury duty. In our minds the anti-war protesters were aiding America’s enemies.”
O’Leary pauses. He swallows before continuing his story.
O’Leary Braxton: “I was drafted into the War along with a group of local boys. After receiving our basic training down South we were sent over to ‘Nam. We were assigned to Atlantis Company in the Fighting Battalion of New Haven, Connecticut. To say the least, we were damn proud to serve our country.”
O’Leary reaches into the pants pocket of his fading military fatigues and pulls out his wallet. He reaches into the wallet and pulls out a photograph. He gazes at the photograph in a moment of silent introspection before handing it to Chad. It’s a photograph of a group of young soldiers, many of them smiling and some even laughing. They appear to be legitimately happy not just posing for the camera.
O’Leary Braxton: “That’s me on the far right.”
O’Leary points to himself in the photograph. Chad nods as he admires the image.
Chad Evans: “Your hair was noticeably darker back then, Mr. Braxton.”
O’Leary laughs and Chad smiles at him.
O’Leary Braxton: “That it was, my boy. That it was.”
Chad hands the photograph back to O’Leary, who carefully tucks it into his wallet.
O’Leary Braxton: “We were a confident group. We knew that we were going to win the War just like our fathers who had served in WW2. We were also young men with hopes and dreams that reached far beyond any military conflict. We weren’t going to let a silly war derail our ambitions of family and career. We thought we had it figured out… but we had no idea of what lie ahead for us.”
O’Leary shakes his head and begins to stroke his mustache.
O’Leary Braxton: “By the time that I was six months into my tour of Vietnam I had encountered my share of hairy situations. I had also proven that I was a natural born sniper with courage under fire, earning me the respect of my peers and commanding officers. I was promoted to the rank of Specialist and re-assigned to a platoon of Specialists. Our first mission was to breach a known Viet Cong village and eliminate all enemy forces. As our platoon made its approach to the village we marched through swamps for what felt like days. Eventually we reached a clearing. The Viet Cong village was just on the other side of the clearing, a few clicks to the north… we never made it to the village.”
O’Leary lets out a troubled sigh.
O’Leary Braxton: “We were ambushed by the VC. It was…horrific. The sights and sounds of hot lead slicing through young men’s skin was like nothing that I can describe. By that time I was used to the soundtrack of war, the gunfire, the screams, but not from my own boys. I had never seen American soldiers gunned down like that. They were just kids, damn it…they were just kids. We were all just kids.”
O’Leary pauses and takes a moment to compose himself before continuing his story.
O’Leary Braxton: “I fired on everything that moved. I was fighting for my life but I was not afraid. I did not accept fear. How could I? In order to be fearful one must have time to think about their predicament and time was not something that I had. All I knew was that I was not going to accept death as a possibility even though it was all that I saw around me. I was able to pin back the VC forces with my gunfire and it was then that I radioed for help. I would have made it out of there, mostly unscathed, by the grace of God… if I hadn’t stepped on that land mine.”
O’Leary’s eyes drift downward. He lets out a grieved sigh to unburden his heavy heart. Chad struggles to choke back his tears, though he does not speak or move, he only listens.
O’Leary Braxton: “I don’t remember anything after that. My next memory is waking up in a MASH unit with tubes in my body and bloody stumps where my legs had previously been. I was hysterical. Some time later I returned home from the war. I was in a wheelchair, but at least I returned home. I was the only member of Atlantis Company who did return home…without a body bag. The Army awarded me a Purple Heart for being injured during battle, as if that were some consolation for witnessing the horrors of war and losing my legs. I was tempted to throw my Purple Heart away like so many other soldiers who served in ‘Nam, but I didn’t…I couldn’t. I told myself that I was keeping it as a reminder, a souvenir of my service, but that’s hardly true. I hardly need any additional reminders. I kept my Purple Heart because I earned it, damn it. It might be worthless to me, but I earned it.”
O’Leary pauses to collect his thoughts before continuing.
O’Leary Braxton: “People often ask me if I’m a bitter man because of what happened in Vietnam. I am many things but I will never be bitter. However I do have regrets. I regret killing my fellow man, though I did so in the line of duty for my country. I did so in defense of my military brothers and myself. That doesn’t make the guilt go away. I am a Christian and I’ve asked God for forgiveness for my sins many times through the years. I’ve often wondered if taking my legs was the Lord’s retribution for my killing of another. Believe me it was not my life’s ambition to take another man’s life. I wanted to be an architect, get married to a pretty girl and start a family. Believe it or not, Chad… I accomplished each of those things.”
Chad smiles as he wipes the tears from his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.
O’Leary Braxton: “I lost my legs but I didn’t lose my mojo. Some people call me a cripple but they don’t know the half of it. Of course I wish that I hadn’t lost my legs, but not for the selfish reasons that most people think. I hate the fact that I couldn’t do all of the things that a father should do with his kids, running, jumping, riding bikes, playing sports. I hate that my family has had to accommodate for my handicap. I’m supposed to be making their lives easier, instead they’ve been burdened with making my life easier. I hate that I haven’t exactly been able to do everything that a man is supposed to do with his wife, for his wife. Despite any regrets that I have, I want to be perfectly clear that I don’t feel sorry for myself. I consider myself one of the lucky ones. Things could have been so much worse for me. I could have been killed or paralyzed like so many others who served. With the wonders of modern medical science I might even be able to walk again with the use of prosthetics.”
O’Leary shakes his head and smiles in amazement.
O’Leary Braxton: “I don’t believe that I would have been able to survive in Vietnam without God watching over me. Speaking of God, there’s something that I’ve always found strange about the rhetoric of God and war. Every time in my lifetime that America has entered a military conflict, I’ve heard people say that God is on our side. I’m sure that the other side tells themselves the same thing. How does God choose sides in a war? Why does God allow war to happen at all? I don’t think war is God’s doing. I think war is the result of political blunders. I’m not anti-American mind you. I bled for this country and I gave my legs for this country, but I just get so frustrated sometimes. I see our government repeating so many of the mistakes of the past. I see the American people eagerly supporting politicians who call for more war, more troops overseas. I see young men and women leaving their families behind with tears in their eyes. How can we be right when we cause so much pain? When will we learn? Maybe it’s an unrealistic thought, but I honestly believe that if America were neutral like Switzerland then the world would be a peaceful place. That’s just my two cents.”
Chad nods his head in agreement.
Chad Evans: “Mr. Braxton, I want to thank you for your time today. It’s been an honor to meet you and absorb this knowledge that you have accumulated in your life experiences. I cannot thank you enough for your service to this country. Your sacrifice and the sacrifices of your brothers in arms did not come in vain. You serve as a beacon of courage and integrity. I apologize on behalf of the American people for the losses that you’ve experienced.”
O’Leary waves his hand at Chad.
O’Leary Braxton: “Don’t apologize, Chad. It’s not your fault. You’re one of the few young people who understand this nation’s history. You seek knowledge because you understand that knowledge is the mother of progress. I salute you, young man.”
Chad Evans: “No, sir. I salute you.”
Chad pulls his chair closer to Mr. Braxton. They shake hands and embrace in a tearful hug.
Chad Evans: “Thank you, sir. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
O’Leary Braxton: “Thank you for caring, Chad. Thank you for asking questions and demanding answers.”
Today was a learning experience for young Chad. The 23-year old received a history lesson from one of America’s bravest. After soaking in Mr. Braxton’s harrowing yet enlightening story, Chad decides that it’s time to unwind. He hops into his 1970 Stingray Convertible (“Sweet Judy”) and drives across town to the pub. Upon arriving at the pub Chad takes a seat at a table by himself in the corner. He doesn’t want a lot of chit-chat right now, he just wants to be alone with his thoughts. The waitress who takes Chad’s order is a real cutie pie, blond girl with sweet tits and legs for days. Chad thinks about squeezing her caboose in that tight skirt but he decides against it. Chad’s in a solemn mood today. He’ll wait until after he’s finished with his drink to take the waitress home and lay her down in his bed. What’s Chad drinking today? Stiff shot of scotch, no ice, beer on the side. Chad drinks them both down like they’re water and takes a moment to collect his thoughts for the day.
Chad Evans: “We live in a cruel and sadistic world. Some are asked to give all for causes that don’t add up, a façade of lies. I am eternally grateful for the courageous service of men and women like Mr. O’Leary Braxton. I curse the politicians who exploit such courageous and talented people by sending them to fight in unjust wars. I also curse the society that allows these politicians to get away with murder. George W. Bush and the members of his administration should be facing a war crimes tribunal. They should be destined for the same fate as their fellow mass murderer Saddam Hussein. Instead of toiling in prison cells and awaiting a jury to hand down their fate, they reside in the comfort of luxurious, palatial mansions without an ounce of guilt on their conscience. America once had a conscience. My parents’ generation had the courage to challenge the establishment and rise in opposition to the Vietnam War, even though their parents’ generation supported it.”
A proud smile creeps across Chad’s face as he focuses intently on the lecture at hand.
Chad Evans: “In the summer of love, millions of hippies marched barefoot in the streets, daring to walk upon serrated edges of broken grass to voice their support for peace and opposition to war. The Gestapo police forces and their draconian political overlords tried to silence these brave souls through means of violence and intimidation, but the righteous do not fear retribution from the evil forces at work. Unfortunately those in power did not have the same courage as the brave protestors. The Vietnam War dragged on until 1975 when the fall of Saigon signaled an end to America’s involvement in Vietnam. By that time the American public had long since turned its back on the revolutionary movement of the late sixties. The sad reality of any revolution is that it’s not easy fighting the good fight. It wears on the mind and body. My parents’ generation gradually abandoned their principles. They went from lovers and freedom fighters to yuppies and yes-men. They birthed a generation that is apathetic to issues of peace and justice. That is my generation, young minds that care more about reality television and Tweeting with their friends than relevant social and political issues. We stand idly by as one dictator hands the controls to the next, each gradually increasing the government’s role in our lives and subjugating the freedoms that our country was founded upon.”
Chad shakes his head in exasperation, struggling to understand the apathy of his peers.
Chad Evans: “When I think about terrorists the names that immediately spring to mind are Ronald Reagan, George H.W. Bush, Bill Clinton, George W. Bush and Barack Obama. Each of these men and their respective administrations are guilty of a litany of crimes against humanity. They each have waged unjust campaigns of military aggression abroad. They each have manipulated the markets through the machinations of the Federal Reserve. They each have awarded trillions of dollars in corporate welfare to the financially affluent and ethically bankrupt corporate ringleaders who take residence upon the smoldering ruins of American industry. This government has devalued its currency to the verge of rendering it obsolete, blamed the fallout from its market manipulations upon the private sector, and used those lies to justify increased government intervention. More taxes, more government control, less freedom for the people. As if creating economic chaos weren’t bad enough, this government is also guilty of turning America into a police state. Americans have been trained to suspect all brown-skinned people of Middle Eastern descent as being terrorists, Jihadists or otherwise Muslim extremists.”
Chad flips his hands into the air, looking for somebody to smack in the head at his empty table.
Chad Evans: “What becomes of those who oppose the government’s policies? We’ve been defamed as so-called domestic terrorists, spied on by our government and imprisoned without so much as being charged with a crime. All of this is designed to intimidate us and silence our voice of dissent. The government has tried to turn Americans against each other. They’ve tried to divide and conquer. They’ve used fear and paranoia to manipulate us and turn our attention away from some very alarming facts. Our government’s interventionist foreign policy has been inciting the terrorist attacks that have taken place on American soil. As if that weren’t bad enough the government has failed in their responsibility to defend us against these attacks, despite the trillions of dollars that they spend on the military and intelligence budgets. They fail to protect us, fail to heed the warning signs of terrorist threats, and exploit tragedies such as 9/11 to give themselves greater authority, strip us of our rights and start new wars abroad. They send hundreds of thousands of brave young men and women to fight in wars overseas, all the while failing to recognize that our continued military presence in the Middle East is increasing hostility toward our country. Despite their omnipresent system of surveillance they still cannot prevent tragedies such as the Fort Hood Shooting or near tragedy such as the Nigerian underwear bomber. Yet they have the audacity to tell us that we should surrender even more of our freedoms, allow ourselves to be x-rayed at airports, because that’s how the US government is going to defeat terrorism. It’s outrageous!”
Chad takes another oh-so-stiff shot of scotch and shakes his head in a frantic effort to shake loose some cobwebs.
Chad Evans: “If you think that all of that is a mouthful then just wake up and take a look around. What happened to the revolutionary spirit that America was founded upon? What happened to the revolutionary spirit that defined the sixties? What happened to the passion and defiance of young people? My generation got old. My generation got so old. We grew up on cable television and video games, far removed from the realities of the world beyond our front door. We must come to the realization that our parents have failed us and so has the system. Ron Paul is a good man, but Ron Paul is ancient and he cannot fight the good fight by himself. I must be accountable for my generation. I must lead by example. If I don’t stand up for my country then who will? It won’t be entertainment industry fads like Perez Hilton or the cast of Jersey Shore. It won’t be political talking heads like Rush Limbaugh or Sarah Palin. It won’t be the current crop of politically apathetic pop singers such as Katy Perry, Lady GaGa and Ke$ha. When I look toward my field of employment I notice a distinct lack of Muhammad Ali’s and Jim Brown’s, great athletes who used sports as a platform for social change. Today’s athletes would rather suck from the teat of their corporate masters such as Nike and Coca-Cola. That’s fool’s gold. Soon enough the Yankee dollar won’t be worth the paper that it’s printed on, but even before that day comes the government continues to steal most of our earnings through excessive taxation. That applies to those of us in the working class with even greater resonance. If your iPhone and your Xbox keep you fat and happy then you’re missing the point entirely.”
Chad cackles wildly at the fools who are system slaves and succumb to subversion.
Chad Evans: “I am fortunate enough to be a liberated man. The only teats from which I suck belong to my girlfriend. The only ass that I kiss is firm, shapely and female. I am subservient only to a luscious young lady. The government and the corporate establishment can kiss my ass. Soon enough all of the politicians and their corporate overlords will tremble at my feet and beg me for mercy. I will show them none as I disembowel their innards with my thrusting palms. My first step toward that goal of abolishing the establishment comes on Sunday night in Reading, Pennsylvania. It is painfully obvious to me that a defeated man cannot spark the brushfires of revolution in the hearts and minds of his fellow Americans. That is why I cannot allow Johnny Reb to defeat me, no matter how badly I might want him to, and regardless of how tempted I might be. Johnny Reb is precisely the kind of man that I admire. He’s strong, handsome and fiercely independent. In a different context I would be thrilled to bow at Johnny Reb’s feet and call him my daddy. It would be my pleasure to be humbled and dominated by the Inveterate Confederate. I would rather suck Johnny Reb off than fight him.”
Chad closes his eyes and licks his lips, savoring the thought.
Chad Evans: “Alas the hands of fate have drawn us together as opponents rather than lovers. For that I am truly regretful. I will make a conscious effort to focus the brunt of my wrath upon Doc Henry this Sunday night. I find it ironic that Johnny Reb and I are on opposite sides of battle. It’s a lot like the Civil War, because the two of us would be much stronger united than divided. Can you imagine the team that Johnny and I would form if we dumped our hapless tag team partners? We could call ourselves The New American Hot Rods. We would dominant opponents inside of the ring and dominate each other inside of the bedroom. We would live in perfect bliss and harmony. Sadly this cannot be as the circumstances disallow it from happening. It’s sad because my girlfriend and I both want your cock, Johnny. It would be pointless to deny that. I might have defeated you by the hair of my smooth, clean-shaven chin when we fought on Slam last week, but I felt the power of your cock on that Sunday night in Baltimore. I felt the power of your cock and it excited me, Johnny. I was trying to win the match but I’m not ashamed to admit that there was a part of me that ached to feel the Stars & Bars or the Southern Hospitality. I wanted you to make me beg for mercy, knowing that you would show me none. Hell, when you locked me in the Sweet Water Sleeper I damn near jizzed in my tights. You would have defeated me right then and there if I didn’t have such an intimate knowledge of Dragon sleepers and their various counters.”
Chad taps the temple of his head with his index finger.
Chad Evans: “You might be shocked to hear that you turn me on, Johnny. You’re a Southerner and as such you’re probably not as open-minded as I am. I understand your perspective but I cannot relate to it. I think that you are a beautiful man and I want your body. That’s the burden of my ability to love all people and my refusal to shackle myself with society’s views on sexuality. I’ve been attracted to men before but never an opponent. You’re the first one. To be honest you make it hard for me to focus on business, hard being the operative term. However none of that matters in the long haul, Johnny. Your face, abs and buttocks are sublime, but in the ring I’ll be thinking about all of the workers and families that I’m fighting for. As much as I might want to fall down at your feet, succumb to your will and passionately lick every orifice of your body, I know that I cannot let those people down. They are my supporters and without them I am nothing. Without their support all of the sexual gratification in the world is vapid and meaningless. The Royal Family will defeat The New Confederacy for the WCF Tag Team Titles at Ten, though I must admit that I will wear your title belt with a heavy heart, Johnny. It saddens me that a man of your considerable talents will not be a champion after Ten.”
Chad shakes his head with an “it’s a goddamn shame” expression on his face.
Chad Evans: “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Johnny. I love watching you wrestle. I love watching you wrestle because you’re a beautiful man and an exceptional athlete. You have proven that you are an elite wrestler who deserves to call himself a champion. You’re my second favorite wrestler in WCF, after Anastasia Petrova. That’s a woman whose bathwater I would drink. I don’t know if I would drink your bathwater, Johnny, but I might take a sip. Oh who am I kidding? I lapped up the droplets of water in your shower after Slam last week! Did you know that you taste like apricots? Mmm…”
Chad strokes his manhood through his pants as he thinks back to the sweet taste.
Chad Evans: “As much as I admire and respect you, Johnny, and as horny as you make me, your tag team partner is a completely different story. Doc Henry is a paper champion if I have ever seen one. Doc is riding your coattails like Prince Jimmy Dean is riding mine. It appears that Doc and Jimmy are the Marty Jannetty of our respective tandems. I must say that it’s a bitch carrying a grown man on my back when there’s no sexual intercourse involved. Of course I never did like dicks up the ass, and quite frankly I feel like I’m getting screwed by my partner. Blowjobs, rimjobs and shrimping are one thing, but I’ll be damned if I’ll do anal. Prince Jimmy would be well advised to heed my words. Then again so would you, Johnny. If you ignore what I am saying then this title reign will end just like your last. How did it feel watching Masaya Mikami tap out to the Southern Hospitality after Torture snuck into the ring, thrust you aside and snatched a rightfully earned victory from your hands? How did it feel when Torture ripped the WCF World Title from your grasp without even beating you? Did it break your heart? Did it crush your spirits? Did it feel like a bad dream? I’m sorry to say that you’re going to relive that nightmare on Sunday night in Reading, Pennsylvania. I will not defeat you again as I did last week, Johnny. I will not defeat you again because I don’t want to and I don’t have to. Instead I will make Doc Henry tap out to the Way of the Dragon and I will take your title away from you without beating you, just as Torture did.”
Chad slumps in his seat and hangs his head, with a sad expression on his face.
Chad Evans: “It hurts me to say those words, Johnny. You deserve so much better. You deserve the world in the palm of your hand. You’re a great man and I love you dearly, even if you hate me for the things that I’ve said and done during the course of our rivalry. Unfortunately you will not be the first great man to see his hopes and dreams shattered.”
While Chad drinks himself into a stupor at the pub, O’Leary Braxton sits silently in his wheelchair at the VFW Hall across town. He stares at the photo of Atlantis Company that was taken more than four decades ago during the height of the Vietnam War. The smiling and laughing faces in the photo stare back at him, haunting him, the lone survivor from his company.