jorben jackson Posted May 15, 2025 Report Posted May 15, 2025 Autobiography of Donnie Whitman Age: 88 Born: Yukon Territory, Canada Name’s Donnie Whitman. Born way up in the frosty guts of the Yukon Territory back in 1937. Back then, winters were colder, people were tougher, and nobody cried over politics because we were too busy surviving wolves, frostbite, and outhouses that froze shut in January. I ain't much of a talker, but if you’re reading this, you’re probably curious how a frozen-blooded bastard like me made it from the snow-covered pines to the streets of Los Santos. So here’s the short version... and the truth, no fluff. The Wars That Shaped Me I enlisted myself in the Navy before I was even of age twice. First time was World War II. I was too young, lied on the paperwork, but they needed bodies, and I could hold a rifle and keep my mouth shut. Second time, it was Vietnam. By then, I was older, meaner, and had less to lose. That’s where I met Robert McCabe and Joey Weiner two damn good men. Robert was a field medic who patched up more souls than most priests. He saved my hide after shrapnel damn near gutted me. I owe him my life. Joey? That guy’s a wild card. Smart, reckless, and always talking about how war was just a chessboard for the powerful. We laughed a lot back then, in between dodging bullets. Home... or What Was Left of It After Nam, I figured I’d head back north. Try and build something. Had a wife. Thought we’d grow old together. She had other plans. One day, I come back from picking up some parts in Whitehorse and she’s gone. No note, no call. Just gone. Took the ferry to the UK to “escape the libtards,” or some nonsense like that. Guess even the mountains couldn’t keep politics out of a marriage. Old Friends & Dirty Streets Back in the Yukon, I met up with Jeffery Stein again. We go way back, used to get into scraps behind the old general store as kids. Jeffery never grew out of trouble though. Real slick with words, too slick if you ask me. Always sniffing around places he shouldn’t, especially young girls, which is why I kept my distance. I don’t like rats or creeps. Still, we shared history, and history has a way of keeping people linked even when they shouldn’t be. When the North got too damn lonely, Jeff and I packed up and headed south. Way south to Los Santos. Don’t ask me why. Maybe we were chasing the heat. Maybe we were chasing something we lost in the jungle. Reunited and It Feels... Complicated Wouldn’t you believe it first damn week in LS, we run into Robert and Joey again. Felt like the universe had unfinished business. The boys were already knee-deep in their usual mischief running schemes, stirring up locals, probably drinking too much and sleeping too little. And me? I’m just along for the ride now. My war days are over, but trouble still finds me. You can take the boy out of the Yukon, the soldier out of the war, but you can’t take the fire out of an old dog’s chest. I’ve outlived damn near everyone I ever loved, and yet somehow, here I am ripping through the streets of Los Santos with ghosts I never buried. Final Thoughts I don’t know how many days I got left. But I’ll tell you this: I ain't dying quiet in a bed with tubes in me. If I go, I go loud, I go laughing, and I go knowing I lived the kind of life no coward could understand. And if you ever run into Joey, Robert, or even Jeffery... tell 'em Donnie's still got one good fight left in him. — Donnie Whitman Los Santos, 2025 Quote
