On the job

Ian Shantz of the Barrie Examiner has taken a personal look at the death of Michelle Lang in Afghanistan, almost a year after spending a short time in that country himself:

I wonder if Michelle Lang was jotting down notes when the bomb exploded.

Probably.

After all, there's so much to share. When you're covering the war in Afghanistan, you don't want to forget anything. You want to record it all. Etch it in stone to ensure you can accurately tell everyone about something you wish they could see and feel for themselves.

And in Afghanistan, it's a bit like trying to drink water through a firehose. So much to take in. Each new learning opportunity more important than the one before. So little time.

So, sure, Lang must have been taking notes when a most-devastating, unimaginable fate arrived. Or maybe she was talking to a soldier, or simply trying to take stock of the surreal-feeling -- yet entirely real -- surroundings: the dusty roads, the poverty and the people walking aimlessly about with only a smidgen of hope in their eyes.

Indeed, when the 34-year-old journalist was murdered at the hands of the Taliban on Wednesday, becoming the first Canadian journalist killed in Afghanistan since the bloody mess began, she died doing a crucial job that she loved.

And it stung us all.

I had the privilege of reporting from Afghanistan for the Examiner at this time last year. I also had the good fortune of coming back alive.

I was one of three others who travelled with Ian on that trip, and he called me yesterday to talk about this latest incident, as someone he knows who rode into Dand to report, and by the grace of God rode back out again. Ian was kind enough not to print that I was likely too dopey to be scared - for some reason, my subconscious figured fear wouldn't help me against an IED. The way I see it, you can get killed driving down the highway to work in the morning, not just in the back of an armoured vehicle halfway around the world. If it's your time, it's your time.

What I did notice, though, is that while I didn't experience debilitating fear, everything I saw and heard outside the wire was in sharp focus. You're 100% alert out there. I can't remember what I had for dinner last week, but I can tell you conversations I had in Kandahar a year ago word for word. That's because I - and all of us on the trip, for that matter - had a sense that we were contributing in some small way to something important.

(Pictured, from the left: Ian Shantz from The Barrie Examiner, Ian Elliot from The Kingston Whig-Standard, Jean Laroche from Le Journal de Québec, myself, and LCdr Pierre Babinsky)

So while I can't tell you what Michelle Lang was thinking when she decided to embed with the Canadian Forces in Kandahar, while I can't tell you what she was thinking when she climbed into the LAV, or when she died, I'd guess that she too felt what she was doing was important.

I saw LGen Andrew Leslie speak some months ago in Toronto to a group that included a sprinkling of reporters. He said that soldiers and journalists share at least one characteristic that sets them apart from the general population: "Most sane people, when they hear gunfire, run away. We run toward it."

That kinship was noted by Matthew Fisher in today's National Post:

Lang's casket was the first in the procession, followed by those of the four soldiers whose berets were laid atop the flags alongside the Sacrifice Medals that they have been awarded posthumously. Canada's military gave Lang the same honours usually given fallen soldiers.

The lead pallbearers for Lang were Lt. (N) Michele Tremblay of the military's public affairs branch and Renee Filiatrault, a public affairs specialist with Foreign Affairs. Other pallbearers were Farhan Lahani, DFAIT's spokesman at the PRT, Sgt. Renay Groves, who has written memorials about Canada's fallen in Afghanistan, Capt. Yves Desbien, MCpl. Claude Arsenault and MCpl. Owen Budge of military public affairs and Sgt. Stephen Decater, a U.S. army public affairs specialist serving under Canadian command in Kandahar along with about 2,000 other U.S. troops.

The 32 pallbearers for the four soldiers who died were borne by members of their respective units.

Before the ramp ceremony a private memorial service has held near the Canadian headquarters where a marble monument carries etched images of all those who have fallen in what is Canada's first major military conflict since the Korean War.

During that informal gathering, which lasted several hours as hundreds of soldiers came to pay their respects, Lang's casket was adorned with her photo, a black scarf and a note pad and pencil that was a poignant tribute to her craft. [Babbler's emphasis]

The dangers reporting this mission have always been there, they've just finally been realized. The question is what happens from here. Ian took note of my greatest worry coming out of this incident:

"I think that people in the military would be disappointed if this stopped reporters from going over," said Brooks, who says he would love to return to Afghanistan. "And I hope the editors don't decide to stop sending reporters over because of this."

It's not just a matter of continuing to send journalists to cover the conflict, though. It's crucial that the producers and editors continue to let them travel outside the wire to see first-hand the work being done by Canadian soldiers on our behalf.

Canadian news media, take note of the soldiers' example: when one of their own is killed, they honour, they mourn, then they shoulder their ruck and get back out there.