Travis J. Bradach-Nall had been scheduled to leave Iraq shortly after major combat ended in May 2003. He planned to go to college and learn to fly a helicopter. But when he heard more help was needed, he volunteered to stay an extra three months.
Bradach-Nall, 21, of Portland died July 2, 2003, in an explosion during a mine-clearing operation.
Family and friends remembered Bradach-Nall as a fun-loving, courageous man with a love of music and a sense of adventure. "He was always smiling," uncle Sam Bradach said. "He had that sense of joy in whatever he did."
Remembrances
David Christensen wrote:
Travis and I were buddies in German class and fierce Junior Varsity competitors on the wrestling mat in high school. We sat next to each other Herr Mack's class for years.
After I attended Travis's funeral in 2003, the images of Travis and a few other classmates making comedy, short films auf Deutsch, stuck in my mind. We were armed with a remedial knowledge Deutsch, and a camcorder. The videos are so clearly planted in my consciousness. I hear his voice better than any one else. I see his facial expressions and the movement of his body as we acted out a WWF news interviews between two superstars. This most vivid movie went like this:
Travis: [slams fist on desk,] "Ich heisse STONE COLD AUSTIN! [points at the camera] Ich mochte RICK FLARE!"
Another student: [hands raised to choke] "Ich bin RICK FLARE!" [grumbling, shouting, a tussle. They fight.]
So concluded our first German class video. Each would improve, along with our language skills, with time.
I edited this video late one night 10 years ago in my parents' basement. Each time I played the raw video of this scene, I would crack up laughing as I tried to complete this school project. Was it this repetition during the editing, or the event of Travis' death that so deeply implanted this memory deep in my mind?
The morning Travis’s death was announced on the front page of the Oregonian, I went into my parent’s basement and looked for these videos and photographs of him, wiping tears from my eyes. Flashbulb memories were spinning in my head—both monumental and trivial. Sadness and guilt overwhelmed. I had cheered the television in March 2003 went it appeared things in Iraq would go so well. Yet here was the flesh of this video fantasy. My dead friend, a son, a soldier.
I wanted to catalog each event for his mother. I wanted to tell her the story of the videos we made. I wanted to tell here about... the day I made fun of him for wearing Goth eye make-up to school—(I’m sorry for that). I wanted to capture all these memories, lest she think that after thousands of deaths that followed his own, that people don’t remember the tragedy of her son’s death.
I do.
He was my friend.
Date Posted: March 18, 2007
Leave your own remembrance (all fields are required)
Editor's Note:
The Oregonian wanted to offer an opportunity for those who knew the service member or those who wanted to comment on their sacrifice to add to this tribute. As this is a memorial site, we will review all comments for appropriateness before publication.
