Chapter 13

There were three machine gun emplacements; two were controlled by the guerrillas, and the other, though initially controlled by Soviet soldiers, was soon taken out by Muhammad.

The outpost was swiftly and cleanly neutralized, and the next task was to clear the battlefield.

Just as Duranni was about to stand up and leave the machine gun emplacement, Muhammad pulled him back.

"Rat-tat-tat." At that moment, a sound came from not far above their heads, and with it, the machine gun emplacement was hit, sending dust flying.

There were still people above! Muhammad hid behind the machine gun emplacement, not daring to show his head. He knew that position was the top of the outpost, where the searchlight was located.

The three machine gun positions were outside, and the searchlight was at the very top, which meant there was definitely a sentry post there. This way, wherever the searchlight shone, bullets could follow.

Moreover, because that position was the highest, it posed a threat to the three machine gun positions. The emplacements were built to fire outward, so the outer walls were thick, but the rear was almost defenseless.

That was a blind spot. Although Khwaja was an excellent sniper, he was powerless at that position.

Duranni had just returned from the brink of death, and he still felt a lingering sense of panic. If the instructor hadn't pulled him back just now, he would already be dead.

"Scared?" the voice in his ear asked again.

"Not scared," Duranni said. What was there to fear about death? If it weren't for the instructor, he would have died many times already. "I'll go up and take out that Soviet soldier."

"No, bravery is not recklessness," Muhammad said. "First, protect yourself, then you can strike the enemy."

After saying that, Muhammad added, "It's a pity, if we had a mortar, it would be perfect."

In such a blind spot, direct-fire weapons had significant drawbacks, while a mortar, with its curved trajectory, was well-suited for such targets.

Unfortunately, suitable weapons weren't always available. Many in the guerrillas still used outdated Enfield rifles, and having an AKM was already considered good. They had no rocket launchers to deal with tanks, let alone mortars.

Throwing grenades was risky and wouldn't reach the target.

Just as Muhammad finished speaking, Duranni said, "Instructor, I know where there's a mortar. I'll go get it."

With that, Duranni bravely jumped out of the emplacement and ran forward.

Looking for death! Muhammad had just said to protect oneself first, but Duranni didn't seem to know how to take cover. Moreover, if he was going to run, he should zigzag, not run in a straight line, which was practically asking for death on the battlefield.

Duranni didn't care about that. He ran to the truck in three quick steps.

Some of the guerrillas had already scattered, while a few remained by the truck, using it as cover to engage the shooter above.

"Unload a mortar from the truck," Duranni said, nimbly jumping onto the truck.

There was a mortar on the truck! This discovery was made on the way there, when Duranni, in the bumpy car, opened a box and found cylindrical objects inside, recognizing them as mortars.

Duranni didn't know how to use the mortar. He was only just learning to use a gun, and he wasn't very proficient at it. He had also learned to use a rocket launcher, but it had been knocked away during the last battle. The mortar was even more unfamiliar to him, and he had no idea how to use it.

Although Duranni didn't know how to use it, he knew the instructor was resourceful. The instructor could turn tank shells into powerful roadside bombs, so operating a mortar would be a piece of cake.

The truck was closest to Muhammad's machine gun emplacement. From the sound of gunfire, the shooter on the top of the outpost was at most two people, and their main attention was on the machine gun positions, so they didn't notice Duranni carrying something out of the truck from the opened box.

Another guerrilla, Herman, followed Duranni, carrying a box of mortar shells. When they heard the bullets being fired in another direction, they ran quickly toward the machine gun emplacement.

"Be careful!" Muhammad saw the two carrying something and was worried about their safety.

Sure enough, the shooter above noticed their different movements and immediately adjusted his aim.

There was no time to hesitate. Muhammad's machine gun spat out a stream of fire, aiming at the top of the outpost.

Although it was a blind spot and his bullets couldn't reach there, this barrage could force the enemy to temporarily stop shooting.

"Rattle..." The metal ammunition belt kept feeding into the machine gun, and the emplacement was hit, sending dust flying.

"Click..." Suddenly, a sound reached Muhammad's ears, and the machine gun in his hands went silent.

Damn, it jammed! Because no one was holding the ammunition belt, the damn machine gun malfunctioned at the most critical moment.

"Pop, pop pop." A few bullets came, and Muhammad saw Duranni fall.

In his last moment, Duranni threw the mortar he was carrying with all his might.

Herman, by luck, managed to carry the box of shells into the machine gun emplacement and sat down, avoiding the bullets.

Although Duranni had fallen, Muhammad didn't hesitate. Mourning his comrade would come after the battle. Now, the most important thing was to take out that sentry post!

"Quick, open the box and take out the shells," Muhammad said while picking up the mortar Duranni had thrown.

Muhammad was both amused and exasperated.

Duranni had only thrown the mortar tube.

Just by looking at the tube, Muhammad knew it was the common 82mm M1937 mortar used by Soviet infantry.

The Soviets always favored artillery, even equipping a large number of mortars in infantry units, so it was no surprise that the truck carried mortars.

Mortar technology hadn't changed much, only the caliber varied. This mortar had been in service since World War II.

The 82mm mortar could fire up to three kilometers, which was sufficient for the range needed to take out the sentry post above.

However, Duranni, the military novice, had only carried the tube!

A mortar wasn't just a tube; it needed other components. But this mortar weighed over a hundred pounds, and Duranni couldn't carry it all by himself.

According to the standard configuration, a mortar squad had two mortars, with five people per mortar: one carried the tube, one the baseplate, one the bipod, and two carried the ammunition. After setting up, they would choose a solid spot, level it, place the baseplate, and hammer it in. Then they would connect the tube to the baseplate, one person would hold the tube, and another would install the bipod and sight. After installation, one person would observe and command, one would aim and adjust the range, one would load the shells, one would pass the shells, and one would open the ammunition box.

Now, Duranni had only opened the box containing the mortar tube, thinking it was the mortar, but without the bipod and baseplate, it was useless.

These people needed more training.

If it were anyone else, the mortar would be unusable, but fortunately, Muhammad had a trick up his sleeve.

The sentry post above was pressing them down, and a direct assault would definitely result in casualties. If they didn't act, the Soviets would soon send reinforcements, and they would be in trouble.

The ground below the machine gun emplacement was solid granite. Muhammad set up the tube at an angle, aiming at the still-firing sentry post.

Everything relied on experience. Muhammad's hands bore the weight of everyone's hopes.

"Load the shell," Muhammad said.

Herman had already opened the box and grabbed a shell, ready to load it into the tube.

"Wait, install the fuse!" Muhammad said.

Muhammad had been focusing on aiming, relying on experience and holding the tube by hand, which was a first for him.

When he finally aimed, he saw that the shell in Herman's hand still had an empty top.

Install the fuse? Herman remembered the small objects in the box when he opened it and realized what to do.

Fortunately, Muhammad had taught them how to disassemble shells a few days ago, and the process was similar.

Herman quickly placed the shell on the ground, took out the fuse from the box, and screwed it in.

"Fire," Muhammad said.

Herman let go, and the shell slid into the tube.

These were the most critical seconds. Muhammad maintained the angle of the tube, his arms as steady as a mountain.

He could almost feel the shell enter the tube, slide down like a child on a slide, and reach the bottom in less than a second. The base of the shell hit the firing pin at the bottom of the tube, igniting the primer. The propellant in the shell's base began to burn fiercely. Muhammad could feel the tube expand slightly. Then, with a "boom," the shell flew out of the tube. Despite his preparation, the blast of air from the shell's exit made him feel like a small boat in a storm, almost knocking him over. The roar of the shell left his ears ringing, and he could barely hear Herman's voice.

This simple firing method was similar to a grenade launcher. Although Muhammad had fired mortars this way in his past life, the largest caliber he had used was 60mm. Firing an 82mm mortar this way was very risky.

The shell, carrying Muhammad's hopes, flew toward the target.

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