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Our Advocates Lynn Bradach's Blog
What a perfect world my life seemed to be in December of 2002. I was the mother of two handsome sons — one just starting college and the other a Lance Corporal in the U.S. Marine Corps. Both boys seemed to have found their passion, had set goals and were working toward them. We were able to be together for the Christmas holidays with our very large extended family, and there seemed to be nothing that could change this safe, secure environment. The rumble of war was in the background, but like so many others in this country, I failed to believe it could really happen. I thought to myself, “War is very serious business. No one in this country would let our troops be involved in a war without cold hard facts to justify putting our troops at risk. War can't happen when my son is a U.S. Marine.” But the U.S .did go to war. My son, Lance Cpl. Travis Bradach-Nall, was sent to Kuwait in January of 2003 and then on to Iraq in March with one of the first groups of Marines deployed that year. I have never felt such terror. I have never felt so helpless. All I was able to do was watch the news from the imbedded reporters on television and pray that my son was not involved in the fighting that I was witnessing. If I heard a Marine was killed, I would pray it wasn't Travis. Did I think that some other mother could handle this news better than me? At the time, I was so worried about my son that I wasn't really thinking about other families. In May 2003, the U.S. declared that the war was over and that the U.S. had been victorious. I can't tell you how relieved I was. I started the plans for the homecoming celebration immediately. Travis had turned 21 while he was in Kuwait, and there had been no big celebration. It was my goal to make this the most outrageous birthday celebration any member of his family or friends had ever seen! The celebration was to be delayed however. I received a call from Travis telling me that he and several of his fellow Marines would not be coming home immediately. They had volunteered to stay to clear landmines and other unexploded ordnance, delaying their homecoming until September. Needless to say, I did not take the news well. I begged him to change his mind. I didn't care about the remnants of war that would be left scattered about, awaiting unsuspecting civilians as they returned home. I didn't care about the safety of his fellow Marines. I just wanted my son to come home. But Travis would not change his mind. He simply said, “Momma, you are safe. There is nothing I need to do right now to care for you, but I need to make sure nothing happens to any of my buddies here. I promise in September we will all come home. We will all come home together.” That, however, never happened. On July 2, 2003, Travis was assisting with a clearance project in Karbala, Iraq, and was killed. The perfect world of Lynn Bradach had come to an end. My new reality became a world where war does exist, a world where you can't protect the people you know and love from being seriously injured or killed. In order to go on living without my child, I needed to find a way to memorialize Travis by carrying on what he had started — to help keep other people safe. Through Travis' story, I can bring home this message that so many of us forget: War is real and painful and filled with loss, but we can also act together to help people who experience conflict. So my mission became to raise awareness about landmines, cluster munitions and their victims. It was important for me to help citizens of the U.S. realize what it means, in real terms, when our troops are sent into a country to wage war—the cost not only to our troops but also the cost to the civilian population of these countries. Are we aware of the weapons used in our name? Do we truly understand the pain and suffering experienced by innocent civilian men, women and children as a result of these weapons? So since Travis's death I have helped to raise funds and awareness for clearance programs and survivor assistance by having dinner events, speaking at different schools and civic events, and helping to assemble three sponsored marathon teams. The funds we raised from these activities were then earmarked for landmine clearance in specified minefields in different countries. I knew that Travis would want me to focus on children. Every child deserves to grow up in a world that they believe is safe and secure. They deserve to be able to run and play and walk to school without awareness that war exists — just like children in the U.S. That is why when I read the story of Dim Cheu, a young child in Sakream Tbong, Cambodia, who lost his arm, leg and eye to a landmine that he picked up when helping to clean his schoolyard, I knew this needed to be our first project.
After raising funds to clear the schoolyard where Cheu attended classes and helping Cheu get the medical attention he needed to save his sight, I knew I needed to actually go to Cambodia and meet this community we were assisting. I also wanted to see how this type of work was done and to speak with the deminers working on the project. I needed to meet people who were like my son — people who knew the extreme dangers of clearing landmines, but also knew that the job had to be done and that they were capable and willing to do it. I also wanted to meet the brave citizens who had to live with remnants of war and learn how they were able to survive with constant reminders of fear and loss. So with my own funds and accompanied by my brother, I headed for Cambodia. I met the group of deminers from the Cambodian Mine Action Center, and with them I travelled to Cheu's village. I witnessed what these children, and a generation of children before them, live with on a daily basis and consider normal. They walk to and from school each day on a path surrounded by minefields. No short cuts can be considered because one misplaced step could cost a limb or even a life. I thought to myself, “This is so very wrong. This is not the way children should grow up.” I have come to realize that Cambodia is not the only country that has been left with these deadly weapons of war lying in wait for its children. Since my visit to Cambodia, I have traveled through Vietnam, Croatia and Bosnia and Herzegovina. I have seen the most beautiful hillsides, fields and forests. All of these places are so inviting, but on a closer look you can see the pristine countryside is still littered with live landmines and unexploded ordnance. Every day, these weapons are still maiming and killing and preventing hungry people from growing food on contaminated land.
I do believe that the majority of the U.S. population is thankful for what we have. We have never had a war waged on our shores, so it is hard to imagine what that can mean. I do believe that if we were aware of what these weapons can do, not just initially, but for years to come, we would stand up and demand that the U.S. government sign the Mine Ban Treaty and stop using landmines once and for all. I have been given first-hand knowledge of the pain of war. It is because of this that I feel it is my job to work toward making this country aware of what these barbaric weapons of war can do, and to help bring us closer to truly protecting innocent civilians. I'll be writing more on this page in the months to come, but for now I leave you with this thought: Tell the new Administration to sign the Mine Ban Treaty and end U.S. use of landmines! Make Your Voice Heard Today!
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For more on the Mine Ban Treaty, go to www.icbl.org |