One of the unspoken duties concerning our blanket coverage of the President when he is in public is the “death watch”, which is, quite simply, being there “in case” something terrible should happen.  It is the reason the Associated Press photographs each and every take off and landing of Air Force One or Marine One, just “in case” a terrible mishap should occur during take-off or landing,  or somewhere in between. We don’t carry our blanket coverage to that extreme, but we certainly are with the “body” whenever he is in public.

Now here’s the thing. Our job is  really not unlike that of the Secret Service that protects “the body”. But, 99.99999 percent of the time nothing happens. So how do you stay constantly alert and at the ready in case something does happen. Well, the Secret Service certainly is. That is their sole purpose. But photographers? Well, we tend to walk about during a presidential event, looking for different angles, or simply taking a breather when we think we have exhausted the photo opportunities of the event. Often, we have our eyes deeply embedded in our laptops, filing photos as the President is still speaking. So, are we always as alert and fixed upon “the body” as the Secret Service is? Of course not.

So, imagine our surprise when a man hurls a pair of shoes at the President. I had taken a position side on, midway between the podiums and the back press riser. I had anticipated that would be a good position for the signing of documents that was due to occur immediately after the remarks from the podiums. The setting of the remarks was incredibly unremarkable for photo possibilities, so after shooting that, I had moved to prepare for the signing of documents hoping for better.

About 10-feet from me I heard a loud voice. Protester? Probably. Not unusual at a Presidential event. My camera was trained on the President. The voice caught my attention again, so after the President ducked from the first shoe, I immediately turned to see where it came from. By that time, the second shoe had been thrown and the culprit was already on the ground, smothered by Iraqi security and Secret Service agents who skirmished directly beneath me.

All I could see was backs and butts, but I held my camera aloft hoping to get something dramatic. I never saw the culprit’s face. There were so many agents on top of him; they dragged them off, again, backs toward me. I pondered following, but thought better of it, remembering my job is to stay with the President. To the sound of blood-curdling howls as the culprit was being taken away and beaten, I returned to the front of the room to document President Bush’s reaction.

Secret Service agents stood around a visibly shaken President. President Bush appealed for calm and for people to take their seats and resume the remarks. Using various quips, he tried to lower the tension, but it was quite apparent this incident would leave a deep impression on his mission here, replacing all the words of hope that had been spoken before the shoes began flying.

As the President and Iraqi Prime Minister returned to the podiums and finished off the remarks, President Bush looked down at me kneeling in the front row, and winked at me, his way of saying all is fine. I nodded back; my way of trying to reassure him all was okay. It was one of the few moments of interaction I have experienced with the man in eight years of coverage. At that moment, I felt pity, but also saw him as a man, a friend even, not just the President.

As we faced the challenges of trying to get our photos from the incident out as quickly as possible, stories flew about, and we gradually tried to piece together all that had happened. As time went by, it was clear that the video cameras in the back captured the whole incident with the best angle and that the papers would most likely use grabs of those images over our stills.

It was a difficult moment for still cameras to cover in full. Do you train the camera at the culprit or the President? Split second decisions had to be made by reflex, there was no time to think. The light at the front (where the President stood) was dim but sufficient. Light where the reporters and shoe-thrower sat was dim at best.  Technically, a photographic nightmare really. There was no flash was on my camera, and no time to properly change my settings. All I could do was reduce my shutter speed and hope for one or two decent frames.

I finally got to watch the video upon my return to the U.S. I realized that at the time I never even knew two shoes had been thrown. What I saw on TV amazed me. The President had amazingly fast reflexes!!  Humorous as it seemed, I could not forget how it ruined the President’s mission, nor could I forget the screams of pain as the shoe-thrower was taken away.

It is a White House photographer’s nightmare to think about something happening to the President and missing it completely. Each of the wire photographers on this trip managed to get a frame or two which helped tell the story, but there would be no “moment” image. I think all were glad that it was only shoes, and not something more lethal. The President tried to laugh off the event with some clever jokes, but we photographers were thinking “what if” and that was nothing to laugh about.

Recently I was one of a group of journalists who attended a four-day hostile environment training course in Bangkok. I was unsure just what to expect as I’d been told all sorts of tales - mostly scary - about what sort of things would happen to us.

The group numbered 14; all of us Reuters journalists, including text correspondents, video producers and photographers. There were five of us from Pictures - Seoul staffer Jo Yong-Hak, Chief Photographer Japan Mike Caronna, Amit Guptafrom Jammu in Indian-administered Kashmir, Pichi Chuang from Taipei and Victor Frailefrom Hong Kong. The level of experience in the group varied wildly, from highly experienced correspondents, producers and photographers, to neophytes like me. 

On the first day of the course, our instructors introduced themselves - they were both ex-Australian SAS personnel, with a wealth of experience of operating in dangerous places including East Timor, Iraq and Afghanistan.

One of the most valuable things I took away with me was the First aid. They promised us at the beginning that by the end we would remember every step. I’d learned first aid at school but had forgotten almost everything about it and never had reason to practice it. Before first aid instruction began, we were asked a blunt question, ”I can do something to save each of you, but what can you do to help me?”  It made me feel irresponsible forgetting how to provide help in a medical emergency. This was valuable stuff which everyone needs not just in the field but domestically with colleagues, friends and family.

Over the next few days it was information we would have to apply again and again as we tackled the many scenarios and sure enough, by the end, we were able to remember every step of the process irrespective of how complicated it had seemed on the first day. Practical training began with a demonstration on a dummy and over the next couple of days we practiced CPR techniques on each other.

There were numerous practical exercises. In one, we were herded into a hotel room, where the instructors pointed out security flaws and dangers. Some of us were selected at random and blindfolded, the rest of us watching to make sure they don’t injure themselves as they attempted to find the fire exits while not being able to see anything. It’s scary how few people “made it” - lesson learned: situational awareness, always know where you are, the surroundings and how to get out quickly if you need to.

In another, we walked around the sprawling hotel compound with GPS units, calling in our positions to two journalists regularly who plotted our positions on Google Earth. Lesson learned: communication, call out the numbers in single digits, else you might confuse the person at the other end and he or she may plot 50 instead of 15, and put you somewhere else - a serious error if your safety depends on the information getting out.

In yet another, we were exploring the grounds when we came upon a vehicle accident, injured people in the vehicle and others flung into the surrounding undergrowth.  Lesson learned: know your first aid procedures to keep people alive until help arrives - always make sure you’ve checked the area thoroughly lest you overlook someone injured in the bushes.

For our final and for me most frightening scenario, we were asked to assemble in the hotel lobby one evening. We were split into groups and we sat nervously in a lounge, waiting for a simulated phone call from an unreliable fixer who was going to take us to interview a reclusive southern Thai rebel leader. The phone call came and our group went downstairs to meet this “fixer”. We tried to follow everything we’d been told about letting people know of your movements and security precautions - but its surprising how much of that changes in the heat of the moment. Even though you know this is a simulated scenario, the adrenalin is pumping, things are moving very, very fast, and although you try to apply everything you’ve learned, some things change with the situation. The “fixer” drove us down a dark alley behind the hotel where we’re suddenly ambushed by masked people carrying what look like AK47 rifles, shouting at us and pounding the car with their rifles and fists. My heart was pounding and I began to panic. As our “fixer” disappears in the chaos and opens the doors, we’re dragged out of the vehicle, taken a few steps away and pushed to the ground - phones, gps units, wallets, passports, everything - taken off us. As we knelt in the dirt we learned that the rebel leader we were to have met had been injured in an explosion and we were expected to help - a gun-toting rebel told us, ”he die, you die.” Inside a disused building there are injured people covered in blood and moaning in pain lying on the ground,with  glass and shrapnel everywhere. Time to apply, as best you can, everything you’ve been taught. Lessons learned: Don’t ever talk back to your captors unless you want to be thwacked, follow instructions, don’t try to escape, and try not to freak out or look scared as you attempt to remember what you’re supposed to do in this situation. 

The lessons and scenarios taught us about correct bandaging techniques in case of snake bites, fractures, shrapnel and chest wounds; what to do in case of a vehicle accident - one of the most common ways in which journalists are injured. We were taught about correct procedures for travelling in a convoy, how to read and give GPS coordinates, how to select a hotel room least exposed to dangers such as explosions, flying shrapnel and stray bullets (it’s frightening to be told how far a bullet can silently travel - and how little armour will do for you), how to backtrack out of a minefield and even what you can do to ease your way if you are a journalist embedded with a military unit.

I learned about simple gadgets that can really improve security; for example, $20 door stops that emit a loud alarm if someone tries to break into you room. I learned how to put together a basic med kit; what to keep in a “go-bag” in case I need to move suddenly, and most importantly, how to assess every situation for potential safety threats, letting colleagues you trust know what you’re doing every step of the way.

Everything was backed up by long conversations with much more experienced colleagues, who shared stories from their years on the job. Amit, our photographer from Jammu, was able to tell us first hand about several life-threatening situations he had been in, and how he prepared himself for them and made sure he got out safely. Video producer Madhu Soman from Mumbai and Vietnam Bureau chief Grant McCool also brought with them a wealth of experience which they were able to share in their stories of covering conflict, bomb scares, floods and barely making it through hostile checkpoints.

From my more experienced colleagues, I learnt that situations out there in the real wild world will never be as controlled as the scenarios we were presented with in Bangkok - a really scary thought - but that what we’d been taught here would give us a reference point, something to being with and some basic steps to follow that would help us operate more safely under oppressive conditions. After our final scenario, I also hoped never to be exposed to a situation in which I’d be at the mercy of trigger-happy militants as we had been in the simulation - that it’s better to be safe and not get into something like that in the first place.

All of us learned to look for things we’d never have considered before going on the course, and while some of what was taught might have seemed common sense, the course helped place safety and security right at the front of our minds.

It brought home just how much difference preparation and training can make to anyone working in an unsafe environment. Getting the story and covering it effectively is one thing but we need to do that without jeopardising our safety or that of our colleagues, eliminate completely unnecessary risks always thinking ahead to the next step and the way out. 

The term ‘multimedia’ is used quite liberally these days, and means different things to different people. In reality it is an opportunity to be grasped, and will probably be what we choose to make it.

To mark the fifth anniversary of the start of the Iraq conflict Reuters has produced a multimedia piece. It pulls together the combined expertise of stills photographers, video camera operators , graphic artists, text journalists, and the multimedia producers. The various professionals are given freedom within their own discipline, and the different formats are brought together in a unified medium. The still image has not been devalued, but its role has been transformed. If this piece is an example of the multimedia project of the future, the still image is there too, as powerful as ever.