Patrick Baz, 47, is the Middle East photo manager for Agence France-Presse, based in Cyprus. He has been covering the conflict in Libya since the end of February. His telephone conversation with Kerri MacDonald and David Furst on Monday night has been edited and condensed.
How are you doing?
I’m a bit stressed. I wouldn’t call it a panic attack, but you know when you wake up — thinking — at 5 or 6 a.m.? Otherwise, I’m fine. I’m in my element here. I’d be more stressed behind my desk than in the field.
Where are you?
At my hotel in Benghazi. It’s full of media. They all came this evening, the same way people moved in the first time. Everybody left because Qaddafi’s troops were getting too close. But now all kinds of media are around, from Brazilian newspapers to freelancers.
I chose this hotel because of the view. And location. From my experience in besieged cities and wars, it wouldn’t have been possible for me to take the pictures of the plane crashing if I had been in a cozy boutique hotel in the center of the city.
You mention the image with the crashing plane. Can you tell us a little bit about how that happened?
I have to thank the mosque next to my room. It was 5 a.m. when they started prayer call. It woke me up. From the balcony, I saw plumes of smoke and realized there was danger. It was as if the city was being shot at. I started banging on doors — we were on the sixth floor — and waking everybody up. Some of the American TV networks were really sleeping hard because of the time difference.
Everybody was really scared that the tanks were getting too close. I got back on the balcony again because we started hearing planes. We didn’t know who the jets belonged to. We heard them coming. Then one of the reporters standing with me, Karim Talbi of A.F.P., started pointing up in the sky, saying, “Look, look, there’s a jet!”
I pointed my camera and saw the jet in my lens. And then, poof, the plane started crashing — crashing and crashing. And I was shooting and shooting. Then, boom! And it was a few blocks away from the hotel.
Believe me, when I looked at the pictures on the screen, my hands were shaking. My heart was beating. I realized that this is a picture you take once in a blue moon. It’s being there at the right time, at the right moment, at the right place, with the right lens. If you want to shoot artsy stuff, you never have the lens for this. If you’re covering the war with a 35-millimeter and a 50-millimeter lens, you’ll never have this.
On my first edit, I didn’t see the pilot ejecting. I looked again and again. I shot 50 or 60 frames, and I followed the plane from the very beginning of the crash to the end. It took maybe 15 or 20 seconds.
That morning, we were saying, “We have too much luck.” And that’s when the news came about Dave and Roberto and Joe. It’s scary.
[Joe Raedle, a photographer with Getty Images; Roberto Schmidt, a photographer with Agence-France Presse; and Dave Clark, a reporter with Agence France-Presse, have not been heard from since last week.]
Are you working with many others?
It depends on the day. Two days ago, when the tanks were getting too close, we all ended up in a truck. I was with the BBC, France24, some freelancers and the whole A.F.P. team. We stopped in a village about [60 miles] east of Benghazi. We decided to spend the night on a farm. They wanted to host us. They said: “You French are flying over our head and you’re protecting us. It’s our duty to give you shelter and protect you.” That was nice. We spent the evening on the farm and then they drove us back to Benghazi the day after. I’ve driven so many kilometers that I feel like I have toured the planet.
What has been the hardest thing for you, shooting in Libya?
To try to understand what’s going on. I think it’s the only conflict I’ve covered where I don’t understand. It’s very, very, very weird what’s going on. Why is the rebellion not supported by the former army that supposedly joined them? Where are the special forces of this army? There’s not a single unit in this rebellion that is organized.
Today, we were with rebels. I can assure you that if a Hollywood script writer tries to write what happened today, nobody would believe him. It’s absolutely amazing how disorganized this rebellion is. I keep asking myself, “Why are you doing this?” They try to down a plane with rocket-propelled grenades and they fire at tanks with antiaircraft. They don’t know how to use their guns. It’s a total mess.
Does all of this make it more difficult for you?
I actually feel more comfortable here in Benghazi than I did in Cairo during the uprising. We are more welcomed by the population here.
I think it’s the first and only conflict that I’ve covered where I’m proud to say I am French. When the U.N. resolution was voted, I was on the square by the courthouse. They were waving French flags and chanting Arabic slogans and songs thanking France. I am Lebanese and I am French. I didn’t have to use my Lebanese identification here. They started kissing me, hugging me. I’m like, “O.K., I need to work, guys.”
Now the front line, that’s a different thing. They may tell you to stop taking pictures because by taking this picture you will reveal their position. They love the conspiracy theory that the media have been paid millions by Qaddafi to reveal positions.
The distance is also a problem. From Benghazi to the front line is just under [90 miles]. We leave at 7 a.m., when the sun rises, to head to the front line —
Sorry. There’s no front line. It’s the highway. You don’t know where the front line is. You keep driving. And then you don’t see anything in front of you because it’s a desert. It’s a highway.