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Susanne Craig: The medals on Trump's jacket in his NY Military Academy grad photo? They belonged to a friend
Last edited Mon Sep 16, 2024, 09:02 AM - Edit history (1)
Link to tweet
Susanne Craig
The medals on Donald Trump’s jacket in his New York Military Academy grad photo? They belonged to a friend. “He’s wearing my medals on his uniform,” one cadet said. An excerpt from Lucky Loser, my new book out this week with @russbuettner
The medals on Donald Trump’s jacket in his New York Military Academy grad photo? They belonged to a friend. “He’s wearing my medals on his uniform,” one cadet said. An excerpt from Lucky Loser, my new book out this week with @russbuettner
(Click image for link)
Donald Trump Has Always Been Obsessed With Status—Even If He Had to Borrow It
In an excerpt from their new book Lucky Loser, Russ Buettner and Susanne Craig recount how an adolescent Trump craved undeserved praise and authority at the New York Military Academy, where he mysteriously rose through the ranks despite habitually shirking his duties. “His father was rich,” one classmate recalls, “and he was protected.”
By Russ Buettner and Susanne Craig
September 16, 2024
A couple of months after his thirteenth birthday, Donald Trump rode in his father’s Cadillac sixty miles north to rural Orange County, New York, just outside tiny Cornwall-on-Hudson. The car pulled into a narrow drive that led to the quadrangle of the New York Military Academy, a spread of grass about eighty yards long framed by three low-slung buildings: one for classes, one for sleeping, one for eating. That quad would be the center of his universe for the rest of his childhood. He would rarely again enjoy the comforts of the big house in Queens that his father had built for the family and staffed with help. He would no longer be called a student; he was now a cadet. He was issued an M1 rifle with the firing pin removed, a set of military like uniforms, and a single bed in Wright Hall, the smaller barracks for seventh- and eighth-grade boys.
Donald would be allowed to leave those grounds overnight only for major holidays and summers. His parents, Fred and Mary, made frequent trips north on weekends to take him off campus for a meal. During one visit, Mary cornered the mother of another student in his grade, George Michael Witek, who had easily transitioned to the academy from a strict Catholic school in Massachusetts. Donald’s mother seemed distraught and begged Mrs. Witek for a magic solution to make her insolent son listen, Witek later told Foreign Policy magazine.
As a resident of Wright Hall, Donald fell under the command of Theodore Dobias, a stout man and avid boxer who had graduated from the academy, served with the U.S. Army in World War II, and then returned to Cornwall for the rest of his working life. Given the honorary rank of major, Dobias was known among the students as “the Maj.” He lived in a house on campus with his wife and children and kept plaques on his office walls with motivational phrases like “Blame attitude for failure.” From Dobias’s perspective, young Donald, accustomed to a house with full-time help, did not know how to take care of himself, Dobias, who died in 2016, later told NPR. Donald was taught how to shine his shoes and make his bed to military boot-camp standards. When he failed to meet those standards, or stepped out of line, Dobias smacked him.
His days were ruled by rigid adherence to the clock. Loudspeakers blasted reveille at 6:00 a.m. The young boys of Wright Hall made their way to a communal bathroom in the basement, a tiled area with shower heads, toilets, and urinals, and no privacy partitions. After dressing in their uniforms, they would hustle outside to the quadrangle by 6:30 a.m., assembling in columns and grouped by platoon. The flag would be raised. They would march to the mess hall, and after eating, they would march back to their barracks to face a possible inspection. Then they would march to classes, mostly in the academic building, with its toy castle-like turrets rising at its corners and flanking its entrance. After classes, they would clean their neutered M1 rifles. On the open acres north of the quad, they would practice handling the weapon while marching, and then march some more. At about 3:00 p.m., everyone played sports, followed by showers and dinner in their uniforms. After eating, they marched back to the barracks for an enforced study period. The bugle would blow taps at 9:30 p.m. A census would be taken of cadets in their darkened rooms. Day was done.
/snip
In an excerpt from their new book Lucky Loser, Russ Buettner and Susanne Craig recount how an adolescent Trump craved undeserved praise and authority at the New York Military Academy, where he mysteriously rose through the ranks despite habitually shirking his duties. “His father was rich,” one classmate recalls, “and he was protected.”
By Russ Buettner and Susanne Craig
September 16, 2024
A couple of months after his thirteenth birthday, Donald Trump rode in his father’s Cadillac sixty miles north to rural Orange County, New York, just outside tiny Cornwall-on-Hudson. The car pulled into a narrow drive that led to the quadrangle of the New York Military Academy, a spread of grass about eighty yards long framed by three low-slung buildings: one for classes, one for sleeping, one for eating. That quad would be the center of his universe for the rest of his childhood. He would rarely again enjoy the comforts of the big house in Queens that his father had built for the family and staffed with help. He would no longer be called a student; he was now a cadet. He was issued an M1 rifle with the firing pin removed, a set of military like uniforms, and a single bed in Wright Hall, the smaller barracks for seventh- and eighth-grade boys.
Donald would be allowed to leave those grounds overnight only for major holidays and summers. His parents, Fred and Mary, made frequent trips north on weekends to take him off campus for a meal. During one visit, Mary cornered the mother of another student in his grade, George Michael Witek, who had easily transitioned to the academy from a strict Catholic school in Massachusetts. Donald’s mother seemed distraught and begged Mrs. Witek for a magic solution to make her insolent son listen, Witek later told Foreign Policy magazine.
As a resident of Wright Hall, Donald fell under the command of Theodore Dobias, a stout man and avid boxer who had graduated from the academy, served with the U.S. Army in World War II, and then returned to Cornwall for the rest of his working life. Given the honorary rank of major, Dobias was known among the students as “the Maj.” He lived in a house on campus with his wife and children and kept plaques on his office walls with motivational phrases like “Blame attitude for failure.” From Dobias’s perspective, young Donald, accustomed to a house with full-time help, did not know how to take care of himself, Dobias, who died in 2016, later told NPR. Donald was taught how to shine his shoes and make his bed to military boot-camp standards. When he failed to meet those standards, or stepped out of line, Dobias smacked him.
His days were ruled by rigid adherence to the clock. Loudspeakers blasted reveille at 6:00 a.m. The young boys of Wright Hall made their way to a communal bathroom in the basement, a tiled area with shower heads, toilets, and urinals, and no privacy partitions. After dressing in their uniforms, they would hustle outside to the quadrangle by 6:30 a.m., assembling in columns and grouped by platoon. The flag would be raised. They would march to the mess hall, and after eating, they would march back to their barracks to face a possible inspection. Then they would march to classes, mostly in the academic building, with its toy castle-like turrets rising at its corners and flanking its entrance. After classes, they would clean their neutered M1 rifles. On the open acres north of the quad, they would practice handling the weapon while marching, and then march some more. At about 3:00 p.m., everyone played sports, followed by showers and dinner in their uniforms. After eating, they marched back to the barracks for an enforced study period. The bugle would blow taps at 9:30 p.m. A census would be taken of cadets in their darkened rooms. Day was done.
/snip
Stolen valor, even at such a young age. No wonder he disparages those who actually served.
24 replies
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URL added to the OP (click the picture).
republicans think that is a good role model for their "Innocent little Christian children"? 
Straightened him right out. 
Felon 45 has a friend? 
