From WNYC in New York, this is NPR's On the Media.

I'm Brooke Gladstone.

And I'm Bob Garfield.

Here's a striking statistic.

As of Friday, the grand total of Western military personnel killed by the enemy in Afghanistan is zero.

The number of journalists killed is seven.

The latest calamity happened on Monday on a strip of dusty highway,

halfway between Jalalabad and Kabul.

A convoy of reporters, photographers, translators, and their drivers

was stopped by gunmen identifying themselves as Taliban fighters.

Most of the vehicles were able to flee,

but in two episodes a short while apart, four journalists were pulled out, verbally abused,

stoned, and finally shot dead. They were Azizula Haidari, a photographer for Reuters,

Julio Fuentes, a writer for Madrid's El Mundo,

Maria Grazia Katuli, a reporter for Corriere de la Cera in Milan, and Harry Burton, a Reuters videographer.

Take note of their names. By next week, they will be footnotes, regarded by some as anonymous heroes,

and by many others with a shrug as

reckless macho fools. Their grieving colleagues and their indifferent critics say the same thing.

They knew the risks. Yes, and it's worth rehashing them. Imagine this for a moment. You go to

another country, a stranger in unfamiliar terrain,

unable to speak the language. You sleep badly. You bathe seldom. Food and water is scarce and

suspect. You drive roads that are often mined or patrolled by combatants. A brutal enemy

...