He could recognise the smell of Afghanistan with his eyes closed. Memory does that. Back when the military transport left his nervous stomach at 20,000 feet, it dropped hard to evade the anti-aircraft weapons. He had smelt it then, the rank odour of drains and waste. He can smell it again now, recognising it with his eyes closed. His eyes aren’t shut but behind the filthy blindfold, they might as well be. Fear has a distinctive smell too, undermining the quiet authority he tried to convey when they stopped them. Fear is a currency the local warlord trades for dollars.
Mikey @M. E. Rothwell really appreciated the restack. Encouraging, thank you