Sweaty and dishevelled, two Afghan interpreters asked to have their picture taken outside their bunker-like sleeping container at a parched combat outpost in Panjwaii district, near Kandahar city.

"Please, sir, we want our pictures taken and please put in Canadian newspapers, so they know that we are here," one of them said to a journalist who was walking past to board a convoy.

The Canadian military forbids photographing interpreters who work with front-line troops, or the more senior cultural advisers who aid headquarters staff, out of fear for their lives and the lives of their families.

It is a well-grounded fear based on the Taliban's ruthless campaign of retribution against those they consider traitors. The Canadian Press has decided against publishing the two interpreters' photo.

Many of the "terps" -- as they known -- are happy to stay out of the limelight and often wrap their faces in sweat clothes and goggle-like sunglasses when photos and video of events are unavoidable.

That these two interpreters were willing to put their faces out there on the thinnest of hopes that their pleas for sanctuary would be heard spoke volumes.

"Please, sir, we don't want to be left behind," said Falstan, who insisted on using his real name. "Please take me to Canada because it's really important to me."

The lights are set to go out on Ottawa's fast-track immigration program for Afghan interpreters who have worked on the Canadian mission.

Falstan worked for the Canadian army for three months and technically does not qualify for entry to Canada. A terp needs one year of service to qualify, he said.

"The danger is the same whether you work for five years -- or two days. No different," he said. "That is the big trouble for everyone. The Taliban, they know about me. They will kill me. They'll never let me live in Afghanistan."

The Taliban know the 27-year-old former teacher worked with coalition troops because his father, an illiterate farmer, boasted to neighbours about what a good living his son was making. It was an innocent gesture from a proud father who might have unwittingly marked his son for death.

International Management Services, or IMS, is the Afghan company that was put in charge of recruiting interpreters from local villages around Afghanistan.

Falstan said the lure of a steady paycheque and the prospect of immigration convinced many to sign up for service. It's only afterward that they find out about some of the restrictions, such as length of service requirement.

Falstan's contract is at an end and he will go into a pool of interpreters who may or may not be hired by incoming U.S. forces who have taken over the Canadian battlefield.

After arriving back at Kandahar Airfield with the soldiers he's served, Falstan said he's been offered some vacation time and will learn later whether he still has a job.

His home is in the volatile eastern province of Nangarhar, along the Pakistan border, but he's not going there. "If I go to home, that is not good for me," he said.

He won't see his family. "Like I said, there is a big problem: they will kill us," he said.

The threat is real.

In December 2009, an interpreter working for the Canadian Forces was gunned down in Kandahar city. Local police blamed the Taliban.

At least six interpreters have died alongside Canadian soldiers and an unknown number have been wounded by roadside bombs.

Others have seen their family members kidnapped or assassinated because of their ties to coalition troops.

With the risk comes reward. Interpreters generally make between $600 and $900 a month -- a princely sum in a country where the average person makes a few hundred dollars a year.

Often that salary is split among family or friends, who are rarely told where the money is coming from.

A few years ago, the Conservative government announced a "fast-track" program to help Afghans who work with Canadians in Kandahar.

Applicants must have 12 months' service to the Canadian mission and a recommendation letter from a senior soldier or diplomat. They also need to meet standard immigration criteria such as criminal, medical and security screening before being allowed to come to Canada.

But the application process has been cumbersome. Only 56 interpreters are so far settled in Canada. Another 33 are booked to travel this month and another 130 will arrive in Canada this summer and early fall.

Citizenship and Immigration Minister Jason Kenney says he expects to admit about 550 people who qualify for the program -- up from an original estimate of 450.

"We appreciate the bravery and the courage of Afghans who have co-operated with Canadian forces," he recently told The Canadian Press while in Calgary.

"We anticipate anyone who qualifies under the program will be coming to Canada within a few months."

The government has said it will accept applications until Sept. 12.

But life in Canada is anything but easy for transplanted interpreters.

A former Afghan interpreter says it has been a struggle to find work since he came to Canada late last year.

The man -- who asked that his name not be used to protect his family in Afghanistan -- had spent several years working for the Canadians in and around Kandahar.

Now he lives in a cramped apartment with fellow interpreters. There was no job waiting for him when he stepped off the airplane, no training offered and few prospects -- just a monthly cheque for $750 for a year.

It was only this month that he finally found work as a labourer. But he's on the job only a few days a week and does not earn enough extra money to send to his family back home.

He wants to return to Afghanistan one day when it's safer. Until then, he says he'll take whatever work comes.

The man says many former interpreters feel abandoned by the Canadians for whom they had risked life and limb. "They only drop us," he said. "Most interpreters are pretty disappointed."

Reporting by Murray Brewster in Kandahar and Steve Rennie in Ottawa. With files from Bill Graveland in Calgary.