How do war reporters handle dangerous situations, as in "The Cry of the Reed"? In excerpts from recent interviews, four journalists discuss how they've faced matters of life and death.
SCOTT TAYLOR
Editor of Esprit de Corps military magazine, who was kidnapped and tortured by Muslim extremists in Iraq. "The Cry of the Reed" is based in part on his experience.
I must admit I'm not much on organized religion, but I did talk to God each time I was prepped for execution. . . . And once I knew I was going to die, I told myself that for the sake of my old regiment, I would not let my killers see the fear I felt. . . . Once it was pronounced I was going to die, I was chained to a bed and there was no way out. This is no game. This is real, and I mean I knew 50 people had been killed the day before, so when they said "This is it," I thought this is it. And you are there, just facing death. . . . You go back to your military training: There is no way I am going to let these guys see the fear that I feel.
CAROL J. WILLIAMS
Caribbean bureau chief, Los Angeles Times, who has traveled through war zones including Bosnia, Kosovo, Afghanistan, and Iraq.
Only the truly insane go forward with a trip that is outright hazardous. What we do is plot ways to cover a story and minimize the hazards. A lot of this is self-delusion, but it gets us through the day. . . . I've certainly miscalculated many times over the years, or subconsciously downplayed the risks so as to go on with it.
When I've been in frightening situations (drunk Bosnian Serb gunmen wearing ski masks at a roadblock sticking the barrel of their AK-47 into my nostril, surrounded in a Chechen village by Russian Army tanks and troops preparing to blast the place to smithereens in pursuit of rebels, seen bullets meant for me ping off of fences and cement walls flanking Sarajevo's Sniper Alley, been mistaken for a Russian at a bazaar in Kabul in 1986 and been lassoed and yanked into a curtained enclave before I could explain who I was, etc, etc.) I tend to reproach myself silently, as in "How can I have been so stupid as to end up here?" I'm not a person of strong faith, though I've at times invoked "The Unbeliever's Prayer" from "Death Be Not Proud," which essentially asks "If there is a God, could you help me out here?"
Mostly I try to stay calm and think of all the ways the situation can get resolved positively (wishful thinking, but it beats dwelling on the jeweled saber in the corner).
ANNA BADKHEN
Former war reporter for the San Francisco Chronicle, current Globe staff writer. She has reported from Iraq, Afghanistan, Somalia, Israel and the Palestinian territories, Kashmir, and Chechnya; she plans to travel to Baghdad as a freelance reporter in May.
I have been in very dangerous situations several times, but mostly I only realize that in retrospect, when I reflect on a particular day or trip. Maybe it's because it is too stressful to linger on the dangerousness of events while they're happening, when I probably focus on simply getting out of them and saving myself. There's actually a perfectly scientific explanation to this, a survival instinct on a chemical level.
I'm pretty sure I have not, in times of danger or stress, turned to memories. I have respect for faith but have no faith of my own. I talk and think about my family when times are good, but not when I'm in a dangerous situation. I do not rely on hope, only on my own understanding of what to do and what not to do. I think mostly I just focus very hard on my task to survive and report and think of ways to do that.
For me the hardest part usually comes after I return from a war zone or a place where I have witnessed suffering, after I'm home and have filed my stories and can relax. That is when the pain of what I have witnessed and the stress wash over. It can be very difficult to cope with.
DAVID FILIPOV
Former Globe Moscow bureau chief, currently Globe Assistant Metro Editor. He has reported extensively about the conflict in Chechnya and the war in Afghanistan and Iraq.
I think there are different kinds of dangerous situations. There's the long, nerve-wracking period kind, such as being held captive, when everyone gets really tense. Personally, I try to make everyone laugh (me, anyone I'm traveling with, people I meet along the way). Laughing is the most human thing. If you have a guy pointing an AK at you and you get him to smile, chances are he won't shoot anyone. Then there's the stage where everything has gone to hell. Then you really try to keep your wits about you and think, "What can I do that I'm not doing that can get me out of this?" Generally when things get really bad, like an air raid or artillery bombardment, I've found there's no time to think about mortality. I'm thinking of finding a better place to hide.
- MEGAN TENCH
