War Correspondent Has A Hard Task.

New York Times 100 years ago today, November 3, 1912:
Conditions Now Very Different from Those in the Days of "Bull Run" Russell.
MODERN GENERALS ARE COLD
Don't Like Civilians on the Firing Line and Fear Details of Campaign Getting Out Prematurely.
Special Correspondence The New York Times.
    LONDON, Oct. 24.— A war correspondent of to-day who desires to do good work has a harder task than the correspondent of forty years ago. Indeed, unless he is an exceptional and lucky man, he may not get to the front at all. Ernest Gelobter, one of the many special correspondents of London papers who have been sent to the Balkans, sends a rather pessimistic letter. Mr. Gelobter was assigned to go to the front with the Servians, and he writes from Belgrade that so far he is still stuck there. Similar wails are being received from others of the ninety or so English correspondents who have been sent to Sofia and the score sent to Greece. Only little Montenegro seems at all generous to the newspaper representatives, and even she lays down all sorts of rules and regulations unheard of in the days of "Bull Run" Russell and Archibald Forbes.
    The truth, of course, is that the game has been overplayed. It was all right in the old days for half a dozen well-known men, usually personal friends of many of the officers, to accompany an army in war time, but now, when some of the great papers send half a dozen men each to do descriptive work, besides, in many cases, photographers, the presence of so many correspondents becomes not only a source of annoyance to a commanding officer, but often a source of embarrassment.
    Mr. Gelobter frankly admits this. "Modern Generals," he says, "disapprove of civilians casually sauntering along the firing line or sending premature details of a plan of campaign. The result is that the Servians — and, from what, I have heard while in Vienna, the other combatant States — are taking good care to have strict supervision over the correspondents.
    "The censorship is most strict; everything written is examined, and pictures are now censored. An enterprising youth who had been hired by a cinematograph firm to snap the war was heartbroken when he was told that his films would have to be submitted to the authorities or destroyed.
    "Correspondents who wish to go to the front have to make formal written application to the military authorities. Then we have a photograph, taken for identification purposes. If we are lucky, we get a permit (with photograph attached) and a rather gorgeously colored band to put around our arm. Up to the time of writing no one has been allowed to go forward."
    A dispatch from Triest to The Party Mirror tells of the unfortunate experience of a couple of correspondents. It seems that Musati, the Italian author, who is in custody at Podgoritza, is not the only correspondent of journals other than English who has upset the Montenegrins. Baron Binder of the Vienna Neue Freie Presse is also getting himself disliked for his pro-Turkish views. His offense was going out to the firing line last Thursday and criticising everything and everybody.
    He has lived in Podgoritza for some months.
    The same paper yesterday printed an amusing article on the immense numbers of would-be correspondents who, on such an occasion as this, present themselves at the newspaper offices and calmly apply for positions that the most experienced journalists hesitate to accept, knowing the difficulties of the work and  the linguistic and other ability required.
     "One of the most singular features in connection with a war when it breaks out," says The Mirror, "is the number of amateur journalists and would-be war correspondents it immediately lets loose upon the defenseless newspaper office. They come from all parts — North, South, East, and West — irrespective of age and position; and their ignorance of matters military is only equaled by their utter inexperience of journalism and the world. "For some amazing reason, each seems to think that he is specially qualified to send through brilliant war messages. Nor can they be shaken in this belief. They may have failed to make even an ordinary success in any other walk of life, but they are positive that they would be entirely and conspicuously successful as war correspondents.
    "Invariably they have never had even the most remote journalistic experience, they cannot speak any other language but English, they do not know what a press telegram is, or how to word a graphic skeleton message, and they emphatically know nothing whatever about the Balkans. Yet they are burning with a beautiful inspired desire to do the extremely difficult work of a war correspondent.
    "The very latest caller was a young man who volunteered the following information:
    " 'My father,' he said, ingenuously, 'used to write for the papers. He was a great friend of Buffalo Bill, and I used to go behind the scenes and talk with the cowboys.' "