On the way to the Kashmir front

Martin Savidge reports from the field for CNN on major breaking news stories and has anchored several of the network's regularly scheduled newscasts.

Editor's note: In our Behind the Scenes series, CNN correspondents share their experiences in covering news around the world.

AMMAN, Jordan (CNN) -- We're on the way to the front of what many fear could be the world's next war, maybe its first nuclear war.

Scott McWhinnie, my cameraman from Afghanistan, and I were reunited in Jerusalem covering the ongoing violence.

You can feel the war of nerves there. Kamikaze-style bombers roam and strike. Twice I saw their handiwork. One turned a beautiful park into scraps of nails and flesh. Another transformed an ice cream shop into a blaze of crimson. An 18-month-old girl and her grandmother were erased with the push of a button. I thought that was insanity.

Day 1: On the way to the Kashmir front Day 2: A storm gathers in paradise Day 3: A paradise lost to guns, bullets and bombs

Then Scottie and I were told we were headed for Kashmir, the land at the heart of hostilities between two nuclear powers: India and Pakistan.

The Jerusalem bureau threw a traditional farewell dinner. But, this time, the urgings of "take care" and "be careful" were said with deeper feeling.

The next morning, a van arrives to take us to the Israeli/Jordanian border. Another car would take us from there to Amman and the flight to New Delhi. At least that is the plan. We roar off to cross the river Jordan.

On the way, our driver gets a call saying the border crossing is closing earlier than expected. We have less than 30 minutes. He puts the hammer down.

The Allenby Bridge Crossing to Jordan seems almost deserted. The landscape resembles Afghanistan, brown and barren. Only a strip of greenery marks the river's course.

But the Israeli guards say we have no Jordanian visas, so we can't cross.

We call the Jerusalem bureau, asking what to do, as we stand outside the van in stifling heat. Our flight from Amman leaves in six hours. The bureau directs us to another border crossing an hour away where we can get a visa.

We set off again, stopping only at an unexpected McDonald's. Scottie and I buy the Happy Meal, complete with toy -- Mickey Mouse visors with ears. What a laugh it'll be to wear them among the helmeted soldiers at the front! But first things first: We've got a border to cross and a plane to catch.

At the second border checkpoint, things seem to be going better. The woman looks at our passports, smiles, and then starts shouting: "Run!" "Get out of the van! Get away!"

"Excuse me?" I say.

"Run!" she blares back.

This strikes me as a rather bizarre border ritual, but we comply. We soon understand why she was shouting: There is a suspicious package nearby, which in Israel these days translates into "bomb." We retreat a good 200 yards and settle down for a two-hour wait.

Eventually, the bomb-that-wasn't is taken away and we make it across the border.

The real race begins on the Jordanian side. It's 6 p.m. and we have two hours to make our plane. The only problem, our driver Ahmed explains, is that the airport is two and a half hours away. Ahmed takes off and does his best impersonation of flying on the ground.

We blow through towns pegging the speedometer, passing on blind curves and daring oncoming trucks on their own side of the road. The clock wins in the end, and we lose. The flight leaves without us.

So, we overnight in Amman, preparing for possible Armageddon. I survey my first-aid kit and chuckle. What good could it be? Nuclear Band-Aids? The feeling's the same looking at my body armor and helmet. My McDonald's Mickey Mouse headgear will be just as good if the balloon goes up.

I'll be in Kashmir, the front. Maybe I'll know a little before you. But let's face it, the consequences will eventually be felt by all if it does become a nuclear war.

In this war, we're all at the front.

Coming next, Savidge in Kashmir: A gathering storm looms over paradise.