Undercover

• He had hair down to his shoulders and sported a large mustache along with faded and torn blue jeans, sandals, and a yellow Mickey Mouse t-shirt which hadn't seen soap in weeks. Most of the rest of us in that room were well-scrubbed Army officers dressed in starched Vietnam era khakis. One old dog, a civilian, looked like George Smiley and smoked a pipe. We asked questions.
• The bar was on a quaint cobblestone street. They were in a dark corner speaking flawless German and blending in nicely with the locals. We ignored them.
• The two greasy-haired giants covered with sweat and grime and with chains for belts slowly explained what can go wrong very quickly in a biker bar.