Cpl. Travis Bradach-Nall, U.S.M.C (NCD)

Memories of a Marine

NORM MAVES JR.

By the time the last vehicle pulled away from the amphitheater at Willamette National Cemetery Friday afternoon and disappeared across the rippling heat waves that rose from its quiet lanes, the picture of Marine Corps Cpl. Travis Bradach-Nall's life was just about complete.

The 21-year-old Northeast Portlander, killed July 2 while clearing a mine field near Karbala, Iraq, was a funny guy who could be deadly serious. He was a loyal friend who would stay right by you in a crisis and was, well, something of a scamp when things got boring. The portrait took three hours to complete, starting Friday morning with the memorial Mass at his old All Saints Catholic Church and ending with a sun-splashed military burial service at Willamette National Cemetery.

The audience of about 500 at All Saints was full of people who grazed his life: Old-timers who remembered his days at the school, youngsters who barely knew him and cronies from the Grant High School band who hastily reassembled the Generals' old drum line for one last encore.

There were gray hair, orange hair and no hair at all; there were nose studs and lip rings and smooth young faces. Many of the faces had the hollow stare of somebody who had just lost something very precious.

And, of course, there were Marines. Most of them were from the 6th Engineer Support Battalion on Swan Island. There was no shortage of volunteers for the privilege of accompanying Bradach-Nall's casket.

The Rev. Richard B. Thompson delivered the homily, recalling some of the sweet stories he had shared with Bradach-Nall's family the night before the service.

"I couldn't help but wonder," he said, "that if Travis could hear us, he might be wondering who we were talking about. We had him one step from beatification.

"But he had this sense that he could make a difference. And whether or not he sees himself as a hero or as a saint, the fact is that he had joy, spirit and courage."

Nicklas Nall, his younger brother, spoke of the brother who would sit at his trap set in the middle of the night and drum his kid brother awake. He remembered one of the best water-balloon fighters in Northeast Portland.

He recalled the three two-liter rockets -- "they were harmless, really" -- he set off with his brother at Grant High School and the ongoing games of Ghostbusters.

Yes, they fought, he said, but toward the end, "We grew closer. I was amazed to see in his letters how proud he was of me and my musical accomplishments."

Governor recalls roots Finally, Gov. Ted Kulongoski took two steps back into his past. All Saints is his old parish from his Portland days, and just about everybody knows about his Marine Corps origins.

"He comes to us a hero," the governor said, adding that his fellow Marine extended his tour in Iraq "to protect Iraqi civilians. The decision cost him his life, and lost to the people of Oregon is one of its brightest stars.

"He went there not to conquer, but to liberate."

The scene soon changed to Willamette National Cemetery and the solemn ritual of a military honors burial.

Bagpiper Ogden Kimberly, resplendent in his bright Royal Stuart tartan, piped the casket to the front of the amphitheater with the Marine Hymn. Marines stood at parade rest around the casket in a protective V while the Rev. Thompson spoke once more.

Seven Marines from the 6th Engineer Support Battalion lined the southeast wall in the back, M-16s ready for the 21-gun salute.

Clark Rust, a 2001 graduate of Grant whose first friend when he transferred to the high school was Bradach-Nall, blew a perfect taps to honor his old pal.

Drum line reassembles Near them were the alumni of Grant's drum line, all dressed in black. Travis Bradach-Nall was one of them, and when he died, Terry Drysdale got the telephone tree going.

The group reassembled Wednesday, then practiced from 11 a.m. Thursday to 1 a.m. Friday on a cadence they last played in 1998.

As the casket rolled away from the ceremony, the old Grant Generals tapped away in perfect rhythm, and the echoes carried all over Mount Scott.

Cpl. Derek Benally, a Navajo from Window Rock, Ariz., and a friend of Bradach-Nall from 2nd Platoon, C Company, 7th Engineers, watched it all with as much pride as sorrow.

"He was serious when he had to be," Benally said, "and funny when he could be. He was an outstanding combat engineer who knew his stuff.

"He kept us hopping. He was a little ray of sunshine for all of us."