Voices: Never get drunk in a war zone

During recent trips to Pakistan and Ukraine, I led safety training workshops for journalists covering conflicts in their homelands. There was a sense of déjà vu.

Once I sat in their place, headed to the front lines of a war without a shred of experience on how to protect myself. To this day, I am indebted to photojournalist Christopher Morris for offering lifesaving advice to a neophyte.

I ran into Morris, best known for his images of war, on a gray October afternoon in 1991 as he was heading to an embattled village in Croatia. Before he drove off, he warned, "Never ride in the back seat of a two-door car in a war zone. It's a death trap."

My first lesson in War Reporting 101: I was crammed into the back seat of a tiny Volkswagen within earshot of heavy artillery fire.

The Balkan war — the bloodiest in Europe since the Nazi era — was no cakewalk. At least 18 journalists were killed during the first six months after Yugoslavia dissolved into chaos. The Committee to Protect Journalists called it the highest number of deaths in the shortest time uin recent years,

This year, according to the CPJ, 42 journalists have been killed in the line of duty, including five in Ukraine and three in Pakistan. The list includes the names of Americans James Foley and Steven Sotloff, beheaded by the Islamic State.

Since my trial by fire in the Balkans, I have conducted media training in more than 35 countries, some riddled by bloody internal conflicts where there is no respect for the rule of law or human rights. Local journalists are caught in the quagmire.

In many cases, all sides target them, seeking to influence the message and terrorize the messenger. If they fall into the wrong hands, they are branded as spies or traitors and brutalized. I have seen the scars from torture sessions and gunshot wounds from attacks on their homes or newsrooms.

"Local journalists take the brunt of it. They are most vulnerable," the CPJ's Bob Dietz told me during an interview for a 2012 report on Pakistan's news media. In May, the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe cited nearly 300 cases of violence against members of Ukraine's media as the political crisis and clashes with pro-Russian factions escalated.

During training sessions, I often ask, "Why are you a journalist? Why do you do this risky work?" Often, the responses are inspiring.

"If I am stopped from doing journalism, it's like being killed," said Azmet Ali Alizai, who operates in a remote tribal area in Pakistan where terrorists have settled in. His colleagues in the room nodded in agreement.

Alizai has been kidnapped, beaten and held at gunpoint by men adept at torture and killing. Instead of quitting, he helped organize a press club and continues to file reports to Associated Press Pakistan.

In November, I spoke at a Lviv Media Forum on "War, Corruption and Politics" in a soccer stadium in Lviv, Ukraine, an elegant old city near the Polish border. The audience of nearly 400 was abuzz with reports that Russian combat troops and tanks were crossing the border.

A young freelancer fresh from the battlefield grabbed a microphone and passionately urged journalists to go to the eastern front to report on the Russian invasion. The world has to know what is happening, Maryana Olexyn told me during a coffee break.

The forum was organized at a crucial time for the Ukrainian media. "Our journalists are not experienced war correspondents," forum organizer Ostap Protsyk said.

The next day, about 40 journalists spent four hours at a safety training workshop. As I stood before them, I recalled the night in a dimly lit Croatian bar when Christopher Morris and other veterans took newbies under their wing. I pass on their wisdom in my presentations:

When driving in a combat zone, keep windows down, doors slightly ajar and seat belts unbuckled. If you feel any impact on the car, be ready to roll into the ditch.

Make friends with villagers and refugees. They know the terrain and can tell you which side is most trigger-happy. And never, never get drunk or do anything for fun in a war zone. It could get you killed.

Ricchiardi, based in Washington, specializes in international journalism training and conflict reporting