““I could smell the Viet Cong, really, I could smell Charlie. It wasn’t just his body sweat or the urine. There were times when I could hear the breathing, real quiet; you could hear a person breathe, and I’d know he was in there, and I didn’t go any farther. I just said to myself: In this dark corner of a tunnel is where the animal belongs, a rodent belongs. I’m becoming like a rodent, but still I don’t belong. Yes, I could smell Charlie. And he knew me. The type of cologne I used, the aftershave—that’s when we stopped using it altogether. But there was more than that. There was the scent that told you there was somebody in the tunnels. We became so tuned up after a while that when the other person would flick an eyelid up or down, you really knew he was there, in the corner, not even hiding anymore. Just sitting and waiting. They were the ones you never killed. You just backed out and told them up above the tunnel was cold.””
