Dan Rather, a completely unappreciated newsman, recounts his work with two people who died and one who lay in critical condition. This war is taking many.
On the outskirts of the city, we had made our way through a maze of trenches, then through dense woods and finally to an overlook to record some heavy fighting. On the way back in, an opening along the backside of the hill, we heard the eerie, slight “woosh” of an arching, incoming shell.
We stopped, dropped and rolled trying for cover. There was none. The incoming ordinance hit the ground right in the midst of us, within a few feet of us. It hit with a thud and a sizzling, fizzling sound. Paul, with his sound gear still hanging on his neck and chest, rolled over and tried to cover me with his body as the weapon sizzled.
Lucky for all of us, it never exploded . For whatever reason, it turned out to be a dud.
We didn’t stick around to find out why. Back at our partially bombed-out old downtown hotel, Paul and I shared an adult beverage and talked about what had happened. I asked him why he had done it.
Remembering, With Respect