When a Slip Can Cost Your Life

Chris Ahmelman went to Iraq to prove himself. Like many others, he was drawn there by the challenge, the danger money and a sense of unfinished business. After eight years in the Australian Army, Ahmelman, 34, seemed equipped to handle just about anything in his new career as a security contractor. But in Baghdad on April 20, Ahmelman became an easy target, his years of training and combat experience wiped out in an instant when terrorists ambushed his security convoy on Route Irish, the notoriously dangerous stretch of highway that leads to Baghdad International Airport. Shot in the leg, Ahmelman had time only to shout, "F___ing hell, I'm hit bad,'' before the round that would fatally wound him struck his head.

Ahmelman's last words, and the frantic actions of his companions, were captured by a video camera mounted on the dashboard of his car. The videotape is now being discreetly shared around by international security firms, but until a few weeks ago Ahmelman's family had no idea it existed. Neither did Australia's Department of Foreign Affairs, or the Australian coroner who carried out the inquest into Ahmelman's death. "Why weren't we told there was footage?'' says Ahmelman's brother Marc. A clue may lie in the video's informal title, How Not to Roll. The images, together with other details uncovered by Time, reveal that from the day Ahmelman arrived in Iraq - one of some 50 to 60 Australians working for private companies there - the odds were stacked against him.

Ahmelman - "Camel" to his friends - had always been drawn to adventure. Growing up in Moree, in outback New South Wales, he would go droving at weekends while he was still at school. In 1988, aged 17, he joined the Army and was posted to the 1st Royal Australian Regiment (1RAR) in Townsville. "It was what he always wanted,'' says his mother, Jan Cashin. At home in the outdoors and an accomplished marksman, Ahmelman fitted neatly into Army life and was soon selected for one of 1RAR's coveted sniper positions. "He could shoot anything out to 600 m and beyond,'' says his former spotter, Jim Cridland. "He had excellent field skills in camouflage, navigation, communications, tenacity, fitness.'' In 1993, Cridland and Ahmelman were posted with 1RAR to Somalia, where they experienced combat for the first time. "Chris loved it," says Cridland. "He loved being able to do things his way.'' The pair would be dropped off in the desert, miles from their base, to spend days at an observation post watching key roads or tracks.

In 1996, Ahmelman sought a discharge from the Army to work for a private security company in Brisbane. It was the start of an unsettled period. A series of short-term jobs followed, including a stint as a miner at Cloncurry, in western Queensland. By 2004, Ahmelman was driving long-haul freight trucks. But he worried about dying in a crash, says Cridland, and thought that given the risk, he might as well be back in the security industry. He chose Iraq in part because of the pay: he hoped it would enable him and Nicole, his partner of 13 years, to buy a farm. Several of his Army mates were already in Iraq and, says his brother Marc, Ahmelman had a few demons he needed to exorcize. He'd always regretted not trying out for the élite Special Air Service regiment. "Chris thought that if he could handle himself over there with the other Special Forces guys, then he would have been able to handle himself with the SAS," says his brother.

By the end of March, Ahmelman was in Baghdad, armed with a pair of automatic rifles, wearing body armor and driving an unarmored BMW escort vehicle for British security company Edinburgh Risk and Security Management (ERSM). An ex-Army friend had put him in touch with ERSM, established in 2003. Ahmelman was part of the company's Apollo 1 team, which guarded officials of the Iraqi Electoral Commission.