Ours was special calling, for we sang the cadence of soldiers, honoring those who fought before us, but would be handed a bag of bandages and tools to save lives, long before we would be issued our first weapon. Where other soldiers learned to avoid incoming mortars and gunfire, and to flank the enemy, we learned how to dash in the mist of the mayhem, and return with a wounded soldier who we would then attempt with every ounce of our skill, prayer and dedication to send home to devote to his loved ones, a proud and honored hero. To make that sacrifice reflects in the character of a combat medic, and Spec. Russell Nahvi lead the way in that character.
I shook and the tears flowed as if I mourned for thousands of people who never met him as I read the account of his death. I still have pictures at home of him and the rest of the gang hanging out at the cabins at a lake in San Antonio Texas as we sought refuge from the barracks and camouflage clothing of what had become our life. As I stood in the sands of Iraq, I cursed this place, I hated it all, I hated being away from my family, I hated conditions, I hated the crap, I hated everything about this place, and I hated what it had done my comrade, my long lost brother, my friend.
There may come a time when the hearts of men will break and we will throw off all bonds of fellowship but that day is not today. Today, Spc Nahvi has gone before us to prepare our way and we who are left behind must continue the fight! We can not allow his loss to be for a cause that was won and then thrown away for political expedience.
Godspeed Russ and one day when it is my time we will meet in a better place.
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