It was a snowy night in Prague. I bought a round of beers for my Ranger buddy and two Brits we had just met at the bar. One of the Brits decided to show me a small pin he had stuck inside his wallet.

“You know what that is?” he asked.

I knew what I was looking at. A SAS lapel pin.

“Special Air Service.”

“That’s right, mate.”

Curious, I bought the round of drinks and handed a beer to the Brit.

“I knew you would buy,” he told me. “Because you know who the better man is.”

This was getting weird, not to mention insulting. He was also getting slippery about specifics of his service.