For those of you who might rmember my post about MAJ KEVIN NAVE's death back at the end of March or early April, here is the inbedded reporter's views of what happend to him and a REAL VIEW fropm those who ARE in IRAQ and those who didnt come back from IRAQ. This is the Email letter the inbedded reporter wrote to the family of MAR KEVIN NAVE.
Grab a tissue boys you might cry i did!
Mr. & Mrs. Nave:
I hope you are both well. NBC News will be publishing a book about the Iraq war and the embedded journalists have been asked to contribute stories about their experience. Below is one of my entries in which Kevin is mentioned at length. I'm not sure if it will make the book so I wanted you and your family to read it. It's not very long due to space requirements, and it only gives a glimpse into Kevin's tremendous character, but I thought you may want to see it just the same.
I've returned from my assignment in California and now that I'm back in NY I plan to finally put together the video of Kevin as I promised. I'll keep you posted.
Please give my best to everyone.
Best regards,
John
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2) March 24, south of Ad Diwaniyah:
The men, materiel and machines of 3rd Battalion, 5th Marines had hardly formed their convoy and advanced a few hundred yards north along Highway 1 when enemy fire brought them to a halt. During the night Iraqi irregulars, the fedayeen, set up positions behind the berms and irrigation ditches lining the road. The Marines woke up and drove right into an ambush. I was riding in the Humvee of the battalion's executive officer, MAJ Kevin Nave.
From the first day we officially embedded we were MAJ Nave's charge. He had decided to add to his numerous responsibilities as the battalion's second-in-command the well being of a four-man television news crew. The sight of him with two radio handsets pressed to either ear had grown familiar, but I still marveled at his ability to talk over both of them, keep his driver on track, and always respond in courteous tones to my incessant and often inane questions. He usually gave me the option of taking the seat behind him in his soft-skin Humvee. When I wasn't sitting there a marine with a rifle was. As the major directed the battalion's movement over the radios everybody else in his vehicle was poised with weapons out the window ready to fire. If I grabbed the back seat, all I could provide was conversation. Now, in the middle of a firefight, I wasn't saying much.
7.62mm machine gun rounds were snapping over the Humvee's hood. The Iraqi soldiers firing them were popping up everywhere from the mounds of earth 20 to 30 yards off the side of the road. The calm and steady tenor of the radio chatter crackling over the airwaves belied the mayhem playing out on the ground. It was worse up ahead. MAJ Nave ordered his driver, CPL Bradbury to "punch us forward." Our vehicle broke ranks with the convoy and weaved into the thick of the battle. MAJ Nave wanted to be in position to direct his share of the fight.
When he found his place we rolled to a stop and got out of the vehicle. Things were hectic. An Iraqi rocket propelled grenade found its mark inside a Humvee. A Navy corpsman took the grenade directly in the chest. He died but likely saved the lives of the three other marines inside by absorbing the blast. Automatic rifle fire from atop the berm kept on coming. In the middle of this fog MAJ Nave was in control. He maneuvered vehicles and infantry; he quickly erected a command and control center; he radioed for helicopters to medevac the wounded. His mind corralled all the moving pieces and anticipated everyone's needs including my own.
"John," he barked, "don't worry ... we'll get Klimo up here."
Our cameraman, Joe "Klimo" Klimovitz was somewhere back in the convoy. War was being waged there too, but I couldn't believe what I was witnessing would not be captured on tape.
The fedayeen laid an impressive ambush, however, they didn't seem to have a follow up plan. There was no way this small band of irregulars could expect to advance on an entire armored battalion. The Marines quickly turned the tide. The enemy was too close for the Americans to call in artillery or air strikes but dismounted troops supported by heavy automatic weapons were chopping through the Iraqi positions. In my patch of the battlefield a light-armored Humvee with a .50 caliber machine gunner perched on the roof pushed right up on the berm. An Iraqi gunmen charging over the top was met by the .50 cal's barrel. The gun's massive rounds severed the man in two.
Soon the Iraqi soldiers were either dead or shackled in plastic tie-wraps that served for handcuffs. There they sat on the desert floor, expressionless, never looking up at the marines hovering over them with rifles trained. Few wore a full complement of battle fatigues and combat boots; most sported threadbare civilian clothes and plastic sandals. The Americans clad in the finest military gear tax dollars can buy made the squatting men look all the more miserable.
I knew Klimo must have shot some amazing pictures wherever he was, but I still shook my head. I should've grabbed the second video camera before we rolled out in the morning. The past few days had been a drag on our crew's spirits. We were embedded with the 1st Marine Division's main effort in Iraq -- the 5th Regiment. They were fighting their way to Baghdad at the front everyday. But capturing their endeavors on tape was proving difficult. A few moments or a few meters could make the difference between getting the shot or not. It looked like we may've missed out again. MAJ Nave sensed my frustration.
"Pat screwed you again, eh?" he asked.
"Who the hell is Pat?" I muttered.
"Pat Murphy ... he's got a law degree." I didn't laugh.
Murphy's law applied to us throughout our ride with the Marines. What can go wrong will go wrong and often for no good reason. The next night MAJ Kevin Nave was killed. A Marine bulldozer on its way back from a refueling point ran him over in his sleep.
