For adventure, by happenstance or to calm that front-page fever, answered an illustrious panel of photographers gathered in Paris, who covered the Vietnam War. - Or more often than not, it's because it's in the blood.
Henri Huet, an AP photojournalist who lost his life in 1971, when the military helicopter he was riding in was gunned down over southern Laos, was one of those who "went to war like other people go to work," said Horst Faas, a Pulitzer Prize-winner who headed the Saigon bureau of The Associated Press from 1962 to 1974.
"Henri never considered himself a war photographer," said Faas, who was Huet's boss. But "he could really photograph the soul of a GI."
The comments were made Monday, as a group of Vietnam-era photojournalists gathered in Paris to launch an exhibit of Huet's wartime photographs 40 years after his death.
During the Vietnam era, helicopters were the bane of photographers at war, necessary evils that allowed them to move around but left them exposed to gunfire and breakdowns, the panel said.
Today, photojournalists face new perils and are unprotected by the technological advances that allow some print reporters to cover stories from a distance.
"There isn't a lens long enough that allows a photographer to sit at home and take a picture," said Russell Burrows, the son of famed Life photographer Larry Burrows, who was among those killed with Huet.
Richard Pyle, a former Saigon bureau chief for the AP during the war, said that today, "murder has become a primary cause of deaths among working journalists."
During the Vietnam War, there were no "embeds," journalists implanted with well-armed troops, like those who cover wars today from Iraq to Afghanistan. But neither were there snipers, police or troops targeting journalists - who are being killed today at a far greater rate.
The Paris-based World Association of Newspapers and News Publishers says 66 journalists and media workers were killed in 2010 because of their profession - with Mexico and Pakistan the deadliest countries. Journalists worldwide are "targeted for investigating organized crime, drug trafficking, corruption and other crimes," it said in a report last month.
Two journalists have died in recent weeks in uprisings in Tunisia and Egypt. An Egyptian reporter from a state-run newspaper was shot by a sniper last week while photographing clashes from his balcony. In Tunisia, a French photographer died of his injuries after a tear gas canister struck him as police put down a peaceful demonstration in the capital.
Photographer Olivier Laban-Mattei said that despite the dangers, there is no shortage of candidates looking for a spot in conflict zones. Many are freelancers, with neither a paid plane ticket nor life insurance, he added
Laban-Mattei, 33, was in Tunis working beside Lucas Dolega of the EPA agency when his colleague was hit by a tear gas canister Jan. 14. He died three days later.
So why take such risks?
For Huet, the AP photographer who lost his life while flying over Laos, it was definitely in the blood, his colleagues say.
Still, "Henri knew fear. Henri was afraid of getting killed. But he knew how to take care," said his former boss, Faas. It was helicopters that frightened him most.
Nick Ut, photographer of the infamous shot of a young Vietnamese girl running naked down a road after a napalm attack, said he knew instantly that his photo would define the horrors of war for the world.
The dead and wounded were the grim fare of wartime, but "I never saw a picture like that. Children. Naked," said Ut, who began working at the AP at the age of 15 on the advice of his older brother, a photographer killed in southwestern Vietnam's Mekong Delta.
"We know the job is very dangerous," he said. "But if you don't see the picture, you don't see the story."
The exhibit "Henri Huet, Vietnam" runs Wednesday through April 10 at the Maison Europeenne de la Photographie in Paris.