We found out this morning this world got a little bit darker. We lost our friend and brother in Christ Mike Mire. I guarantee Mike came busting through the gates hands raised and hollering in his best Cajun, his excitement to be home. I also guarantee whomever mans that gate immediately thought, “Uh oh this guy is crazy.” Why they decided they were ready to bring him home today, has just moved up to the top of my list of questions when I hit the gate.
You could not be more privileged to know a man of God as kind, forgiving, faithful, loving, and crazy funny Cajun as Mike Mire. He became my friend, mentor, and brother in Christ way back when into my first four years (92-96) in the Air Force. You see I had joined the Air Force to get as far away from St. Louis as I could. They so graciously revoked orders I had received to Japan (very far from St. Louis), because I had the audacity to graduate number one from my class at the USAF Police Academy. They were looking for the five best cops to bring to Scott AFB for a “high profile/high speed” job. Oh and Scott AFB is a whole 45 minutes from St. Louis (not far away). By the by I am in no way bragging. I am an excellent guesser.
This high profile/high speed job for the best of the best cops, was to wear tailored dress uniforms at the entry to classified areas in the various headquarters on base and check peoples’ ID cards and clearance levels. I had just spent six months getting in the greatest physical shape of my life (bonus to them as there were measurement requirements for the skin tight uniforms), learning Constitutional Law as well as the Uniformed Code of Military Justice, meaning civilian and military laws and regulations in a few weeks versus the six months of civilian law I got at the St. Louis County Police Academy.
I was going to be a cop. My dream job (after fighter pilot looked pretty doubtful apparently there is math involved) at 18 instead of waiting until I was 21. As a “Law Enforcement Specialist” I’d start out at the gates keeping the evil hordes out, and eventually work may way into a police car and patrol the base just like a regular cop patrols his city. Yeah…so…Not so much.
Once the rug was pulled out from under me, I was again picked among “six of the best and strongest troops in my Flight” (AF equivalent of an Army/Marine Platoon but the AF has to do everything differently) to attend M60 Machine Gunner School. I thought “strongest” meant overall intelligence, military bearing, aptitude etc. However, the six of us happened to be literally the strongest physically to carry the gun and all the crap that goes with it. It’s a crew served weapon meaning it’s so large and heavy it requires two people to operate. You need a gunner to carry the weapon itself and as much ammo as you can carry. Your assistant gunner carries and extra barrel for when your barrel over heats, a tripod, and a lot more ammo. I began to think the Air Force was not going to follow up on their promise of my “guaranteed” career as a Law Enforcement Specialist, because a cop doesn’t need a machine gun. They wouldn’t even fit in the patrol car?
Upon rapping up a highly intellectual machine gun course, I got even more surprising news that I’d be traveling to an Army base in NJ for an additional six weeks of Ground Combat School taught by the Army. I looked it over multiple times and none of this was in the recruiting brochure that got me to sign up. There in the snow and rain I learned to dig fox holes with a small shovel, throw grenades, have grenades thrown at me (well simulated one that blew up next to my head causing what probably was my third of fourth concussion), live fire drills, five mile runs every day, ten mile ruck marches with 60 lb packs and that stupid machine gun, obstacle courses and all manner of Army fun on and on. Never once saw a patrol car. We were being trained as infantrymen in a condensed infantryman course. I distinctly remembered NOT enlisting in the Army very much on purpose.
Well when I finally made it to Scott AFB, IL I had one Army sized chip on my shoulder and what I will call a moderate dissatisfaction with USAF and my career choice. Soon thereafter I met this weirdo Mike Mire. Quick intel on him was he was a major Jesus Freak who never swore, drank, smoke, chewed, was a little “off,” but you wouldn’t find a nicer guy. This was a spot on description. IT was also a very odd description for any young Air Force cop. Being 18-20 with a badge and a gun which is by the way a terrible idea on its own, made you invincible so you drank, swore, smoked, and chewed even more than the normal teenager in uniform. Mike even refused very irritatingly to go one mile over the speed limit while driving.
Mike quickly took me under his wing. The not drinking and swearing honestly drove me insane. I thought I could swear before I went to that Army base, but I was sorely mistaken. The soldiers there opened up a whole new world of swearing. I respected Mike though so much that I did my very best to never swear in front of him and absolutely never in front of his wife St. Missy. Anyone married to that dude is a Saint regardless of what Missy would say about herself. I could write an entire blog series on what an awesome woman of God and role model Missy is, but she would hate it.
In a short time Missy was babysitting Ashley full time as Mike and I went on 12 hour midnights and Liz went back to work. Mike and I both signed up for classes at what was then Belleville Area College. Mike’s goal was to be a PE teacher. Mike and Missy got us going to church with them, serving in the kids Sunday Schools etc. I still had a lot of young single friends I was partying with, but Mike always kept me accountable.
I had worked my way up the chain from door guard to Security Response Team Member with the not all that high speed Scott Elite Guard. I finally got in that police car and got to do some some police work in the HQ classified areas and backing up the midnight shift base patrol. Then as the Air Force seemingly never tired of pulling the football away as I was just about to kick it, and because I was also a heavy weapons guy on our Mobility Team. I was shipped out to Haiti for Operation Restore/Uphold Democracy. I left bright eyed and bushy tailed ready to serve my country knowing that God had me in His hands and this would be cake.
I came home a broken and faithless angry kid. If I wasn’t on shift I was drinking myself into oblivion trying to forget what I’d seen and done. There was never enough alcohol, strippers, cigarettes, bar fights, and swearing I could get. I lost all faith in God in fact I didn’t believe there was one which left me as empty a human being I have ever felt. Mike got a hold of me with our pastor at the time Pastor Hal, and convinced me no matter how hard I argued, not only was God real He had already forgiven the things I could not forgive myself for. Mike literally saved my life more times than he knows.
Liz and Ashley took the brunt of the broken angry person that returned to them from the deployment. Mike and Missy together refused to allow us to separate. No marriage is perfect. I don’t know that military marriages are harder, but they’re definitely hard in different ways. Their marriage wasn’t perfect either, even though we thought it was. The two of them raised us into a better couple and better parents. Most importantly restored our faiths in the Lord. Clearly God had sent them straight to us and we were just one couple they helped. There was no one they touched that didn’t see their was something so special about them. Although in fairness to Missy, Mike was a special person in a class of his own. I also have to mention Missy is the world’s greatest Cajun chef and taught Liz to make the best jambalaya.
Mike was crazy about physical fitness. Though older than me, he could out work me in every corner of the gym. We started a flag football team together, that Christian nature or not, usually ended up in some heated conversations with the opposing teams. Mike and/or I got a little too competitive and accidentally made some tackles. Though he’s getting cussed up and down he would just start cracking jokes and he’d get everyone settled down without ever losing his cool. He had a way of letting you know if you pushed too hard there was a definite tiger inside tougher than his beloved LSU had ever seen. He backed down the biggest dudes by not swearing back, but not backing down either, then we would suddenly crow like a rooster for no reason. He’d point to the sky and say, “is that Superman?!” Made no sense and bewildered his opponents and they either laughed or just walked away like, “this dude is crazy.”
We would be walking through the base exchange or an HQ building full of Generals Colonels etc on or off duty and he’d just randomly yell, “Gabe Zwilling Everybody!!” while pointing at me. Hilarious and embarrassing at the same time. If we had single troops with us he’d yell out their names to random females asking if they had ever met so and so “he’s a total catch.” I doubt anyone has caused as many blushes or face palms as Mike.
I knew nothing of college sports. Only college I knew was Mizzou and they were so horrible at everything back then I didn’t even admit that. When you’re cooped up with a bunch of dudes from all over the country in an office in an HQ building from 6AM-6PM you have to come up with something to talk about every shift. For our group it was college football. Since I was clueless about such things and only one or two other guys had even heard of hockey, I needed to learn. Mike was an LSU guy from the bayou itself. We had a couple more southerners who were Alabama, Auburn, Georgia, fans and a couple East Coast guys who were Notre Dame, Penn State etc. You can see how I couldn’t really brag on Mizzou or talk any kind of trash amongst that group of teams. I asked Mike who was good in football and hockey. Mike made me a Michigan Wolverine fan that I still am to this day.
There is a very short list of people in my life I keep in mind when making a decision to do or say something. Kind of like inner extra conscience or angel/devil on a shoulder. Mike was one of those angels. I can’t believe I am saying “was.” Anyway, if I am about to do something wrong especially Jesus wise or in a physical challenge, Mike is one of the first people that come to my mind. What would Mike think if he saw me right now. What would Mike say in this circumstance. I did it 20 years ago and I still do it today. Mike became an avid cross fitter which we shared in common for a little while. Whether at police/military PT, crossfit, or Gold’s I think of Mike every workout especially if I am about to give up. I imagine him in my face back at Scott AFB yelling at me not to give up and that I could do better.
What I can’t do better is to ever have a better mentor, guide, friend, and brother than Mike Mire. I have missed him every day since we left Scott AFB. The news of his passing hit me like a truck this morning, but in a sense I was already used to missing him. He would not want me bawling over him, because as he explained to me when we’d discuss or train for life and death scenarios, in his heart and mind death is a reward when you are a believer. No one loves his family, blood or otherwise, more than Mike. He believed though in a loving God that would someday take away all his worries, fears, and pain and for an eternity feel nothing, but love and joy. As fit, healthy, and faithful as he is it’s unimaginable his someday would come so early. I believe the best of us sometimes are rewarded that way. My own heart is so selfishly broken, and I know his kids our Godson, and his wife are hurting, but they were lead strongly by Mike to believe that he is as happy today as we are sad.
I want to share with you Missy’s Facebook post the morning letting everyone know he had passed. Mike is still serving others and the Lord even in death. If you’d ever like to talk Jesus with me over a beer or not let me know. That’s what Mike would want me to close this post with. Our desire to see all our loved ones again someday.
The Mike Mire family just had to make the most difficult decision in their lives. The part of Mike’s brain that make him Mike, Beeker, Sgt Mire, Mr. Mire, Funny man, Crazy man, Love of Missy’s life was damaged beyond repair. They will be taking him off life support and will be donating his organs to save the lives of other. That is the ipitamy of who Mike was. So if you hear a random person yell out in a Cajun yell they might have a piece of Mike in them.
The hope we have in this is that if you have a relationship with Jesus Christ you will be able to share eternity with that awesome man of God.
Mike, you will always be on our minds and in our hearts. Rest in Peace my Love.
Jacked Up Dad 