War correspondents are a legendary group, romanticized by Hollywood and preserved by the historical documentation they created on the fields of battle. You can read Hal Moore\u2019s account of Joe Galloway in We Were Soldiers Once\u2026And Young and learn about a man who was awarded the Bronze Star for helping carry wounded soldiers to safety in Vietnam. Or research articles by journalists like Ernie Pyle and Roy Pinney, who was actually present at the Normandy landing on D-Day and you\u2019re amazed at the lengths these reporters would go to get their story.<\/p>\n
Over the years these journalists, who faced battle with only a pen, paper and camera, were being replaced with television celebrities. In 2005 Iraq, most \u201cwar correspondents\u201d never left the safety of the green zone \u2013 a secure area in Baghdad sheltered from the threats that existed only miles away. These reporters would stand in the streets and report on what the soldiers were experiencing in the field, often with information they had received second-hand. It\u2019s understandable that the Madison Ave. executives wouldn\u2019t want to subject the faces of their networks to imminent danger.<\/p>\n
Forward Operating Base Kalsu, a postage stamp-sized base about 25 miles south of Baghdad in an area Dan Rather dubbed \u201cThe Triangle of Death\u201d because of insurgent activity, seldom entertained visitors. That\u2019s why we were frankly surprised to learn that the Northeast Mississippi Daily Journal was sending a reporter and photographer to cover the 155th Brigade Combat Team of the Mississippi Army National Guard, whose headquarters currently occupied F.O.B. Kalsu. The Brigade\u2019s area of operations extended from just south of Baghdad to the Kuwait border and included Babil, Karbala, Najaf and parts of Al Anbar Provinces. It was not a place you\u2019d want to be unless you were armored like an armadillo and loaded for bear.<\/p>\n
We didn\u2019t do much to prepare for the journalists from Tupelo. Life wasn\u2019t too luxurious at Kalsu. You got a canvas tent, a cot, and all the bottled water you could drink. Well, maybe the water was a luxury in 125-degree temperatures. I remember sitting at my desk (which basically amounted to a folding table) when two of my fellow staff officers came in to announce the arrival of whom they referred to as \u201cmy journalists.\u201d They looked like the cat that had just ate the canary, and one said, \u201cWe saw your reporter. I give her a day.\u201d<\/p>\n
At this point I should clarify that they weren\u2019t \u201cmy journalists.\u201d As the Information Operations Officer I was responsible for strategic communications and was more involved with psychological operations than public affairs. But nonetheless my associate\u2019s comment had peaked my curiosity so I grabbed one of the sergeants on my staff and went to check them out for myself. As we approached the visitors\u2019 tent, a white tent that had to stick out like a sore thumb amongst all the O.D. Green tents \u2013 a great mortar target \u2013 I got my first glance at the reporter in question. Much like the other staff officers, my first impression was not what I had expected. Standing in front of the tent was a petite young woman who looked much younger than her actual age, which was probably mid-twenties at the time. To be honest, I thought to myself, \u201cIs this some kind of a joke? She looks like a teenager.\u201d<\/p>\n
Over the next four weeks we all learned you couldn\u2019t judge a book by its cover. This reporter embodied the mantra of a war correspondent every bit as much as her predecessors. Go where the soldiers go, see what the soldiers see, and tell the soldiers\u2019 story. She saw the radical chauvinism of the Iraqis when she interviewed the Governor of Najaf Province and he wouldn\u2019t even look at her, much less directly address her. Her Humvee had a blow out and she was stuck in a ditch for hours in one of the most insurgent-infested areas of the country. She survived an I.E.D. (Improvised Explosive Device) blast and an 82 mm rocket detonated no more than 25-yards from her vehicle. Through it all she never complained, never asked for anything, and produced some of the best writing any of us had seen before or since. <\/p>\n
As their time in Iraq was coming to an end and they were preparing to redeploy home, our Brigade Commander, Brig. Gen. Augustus Collins, approached me and asked, \u201cDanny, are your journalists leaving tomorrow?\u201d I said they were and he asked me to have them come to the BUB (Battle Update Briefing) that night. This was an unusual request because our BUBs were classified briefings and you had to have a secret security clearance to even enter the room. But he was the commander and I complied. That night was the only time I saw him suspend the briefing to recognize anyone, much less a civilian. He gave the reporter and her photographer each a combat patch and said, \u201cYou\u2019ve earned this as much as we have.\u201d<\/p>\n
Often when one reflects on stories of this nature they\u2019ll end by wondering whatever became of the reporter. However, I don\u2019t have to do that. She occupies the office next door to mine. This reporter I just described is the Associate Director of Public Relations for the University of Mississippi, Jennifer Farish<\/a>. As Paul Harvey used to say, \u201cAnd now you know the rest of the story.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"