Nobody, it appears, becomes a journalist because they expect to become rich.
In choosing the profession, most reporters seem to be motivated by complex and often interrelated ideas, but the pursuit of filthy lucre has never appeared to be one of them. At least among the reporters I have known.
Indeed, if there can be said to be one element that runs vein-like through the field, it probably would be a deep-seated desire to make things right, or at least better, for society. Coupled with that, naturally, is a belief that through the skillful selection and arrangement of words one can communicate well enough to at least make a little nudge. If one can only explain…
This, by the way, is why the media and the military often mix like oil and water. Both professions are absolutely stuffed full of idealists who believe in doing the right thing on behalf of others. Only their methods differ. That means the two are more alike than just about any other elements in our society. Makes sense, does it not? After all, there is no conflict more deeply felt, nor hard fought, than one twixt siblings.

But there are conditions of time, space and environment that break down those barriers and remind individuals on each side of their similarities. This is a situation that has a precedent.

I recently completed a four-book review essay for Vietnam Magazine. The topic of all four books was the African-American experience in the Vietnam-era military. Each of the books, with their disparate themes, still maintained one touchstone in common with the others. Each author noted that even during this period of racial tension, conflict, racism and change, as one got closer to the front lines, all of that faded away. Getting shot at, in short, unified men of all races and creeds. Men who would have been on opposite sides in any other environment within American society at that time found common cause under fire.    

I mention all of this because I would like to bring to light a story that I believe is perhaps the best piece of combat journalism yet to come out of more than six years of fighting and dying. They have been six long years during which both of the professions that I straddle, the military and journalism, have paid a heavy price in human life. It is an example of how a reporter, living out there with the soldiers at the very tip of the spear, can transcend those military-media barriers and achieve the ultimate intent, to understand, and then to explain.
Last Sunday the New York Times magazine published a story entitled “Battle Company Is Out There.” It was written by Elizabeth Rubin. All by herself, Rubin just went and moved the goalposts on you.
Hell, this article does more than that. This article moves combat journalism beyond the long shadow of Ernie Pyle, and I say that whilst wearing all three of my hats: Soldier, Scribbler, and Historian. Rubin met and exceeded the standards all three groups demand, and then some.
For the historian of the future, she has crafted an excellent “primary source” document about events on the ground as they existed in that time and place. For the soldier, she has met the requirement that she tell it as it is, without bias, but without judgment. For the journalists, she has done all of this in impeccable prose, yet at the same time brought home to the American public a vision of these combat infantrymen, the conditions and tragedy of war, with such heart-rending directness that it may well have an effect far beyond the immediate.
I will not describe the story. Read it yourself. I would only note for you that just about every one of my combat veteran peers has been forwarding this story, to friends and family who really know nothing of war, without comment. Those last two words matter. The absence of explanations in these forwards led me to examine my own motivations in doing the same. It appears likely that in the act of forwarding this story to civilian friends and family without comment the veterans are effectively saying, “Read this. Know me.”
Rubin gave us this tool. She observed, then explained. She set lights where few have been before and showed how men at the front experience the obscenity, the horror, the pathos, the camaraderie, the heroism and the tragedy that is war.

Yes, that is the right word. “She explained.”  
I know of no higher compliment for a journalist.
You can write to LTC Bob at R_Bateman_LTC@hotmail.com.

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