If it was a compliment, it was a very dubious one. Clearly, that lead section had the worst job, which resulted in Nigel looking at Sniffer.
 “It’ll be pretty heavy going up front, Sniffer. Maybe we need someone bigger than you this time.”
 “I can handle it,” all manner of pride insisted Sniffer answer.
 “Awright. Get rid of your gear. Machete in one hand. Weapon in the other. Yogi, you want to lend him the AK?”
You switched weapons with Sniffer—the runty little AK47 you nicked from that dead Charlie for Sniffer’s standard SLR except he’ll filed the firing pin to make it fully automatic. It felt strangely heavy in your hands, but considering the possible alternative, you were only to happy to make the exchange.
 “There you go. Perfect,” Nigel said encouragingly.
 “I don’t think I’ve ever been called perfect before.”
 “Away you go, son. Sniff `em out for me.”
    As the morning cool began to wane, Sniffer led the way up the Mountains of the Moon.
 “Go as slow as you like, Sniffer,” Nigel murmured, “We’re in no hurry at all.”

...Hence this diary. In order to enhance in my mind’s eye the picture of the friend for whom I have waited so long, I don’t want to set down a series of bald facts in a diary like most people do, but I want this diary itself to be my friend, and I shall call my friend Kitty...”
    So wrote Anne Frank in her diary. The perfectly normal diary of a normal teenage girl, of no interest to the world whatsoever as she goes though the tribulations of life, if you don’t realise what lies at the bottom of it—that she and her family are hiding in cramped circumstances from the Nazis. Anne is so matter-of-fact about their living conditions and impending doom that it might be a school detention at stake here. That is the power of the book—that it is so ordinary in the face of such gigantic horrors.
    It is a book to shock the naïve. Those of us who already have a low opinion of humanity can shrug this off. I read it in a war zone, which was probably a mistake. She lived better than we did, and was in less apparent danger than I was. She died—people do in wars. They were dying all around me. I might soon be dead myself. I was not able to understand what all the fuss was about. Had I become so heartless that nothing could touch me? I fear so.