Chapter 18

The guerrilla fighters were brimming with fighting spirit. Under Muhammad's leadership, they had won battle after battle. Just now, they even shot down an arrogant helicopter, and the excitement was at its peak. Everyone was filled with admiration for Muhammad, including Khwaja, who was now completely convinced of Muhammad's abilities. Indeed, he was a professional army instructor, far more capable than Khwaja himself. Khwaja's specialty was sniping, not commanding this guerrilla unit.

Now, upon hearing Muhammad's order, all the guerrilla fighters ran towards the truck, even those carrying heavy machine guns, moving as if the wind was at their feet.

Muhammad knew that the danger had not yet passed. If Soviet helicopters came again, he could not guarantee that he could shoot them down. If the helicopters used rockets to cover the area, none of them would be able to escape. Moreover, Soviet ground forces were surely on their way.

“Vroom, vroom.” After jumping into the truck, Muhammad immediately started the engine. With the engine roaring, the KamAZ was brought to life by Muhammad.

“Are we going to back out directly?” Khwaja, sitting in the passenger seat, asked Muhammad.

There was no road ahead, and they couldn't turn around. The only option was to back out directly.

Now, Khwaja was already extremely impressed with Muhammad. Not just in battle, but even in driving, Muhammad was a master. Many experienced drivers probably weren't as skilled as Muhammad. Backing up over a hundred meters would be difficult for others, but for Muhammad, it was a piece of cake.

“No.” Muhammad said, pressing the clutch and pulling the gear lever back into reverse. Amidst the engine's roar, the massive truck began to move backward.

Hearing Muhammad's words, Khwaja was a bit puzzled. If they weren't going to back out, why were they doing it now?

Muhammad didn't have time to explain to Khwaja. No one was directing him, and he needed to back out as quickly as possible. He was highly focused, looking at the large side mirrors and constantly adjusting the steering wheel. The KamAZ skillfully backed up over thirty meters.

“Brake!” Muhammad pressed the brake, then pushed the gear lever forward into drive, and turned the steering wheel to the right.

When the path ahead seemed blocked, a new way appeared. Muhammad recalled this saying from the great Eastern country. Just now, in a panic, they had taken the wrong path, but to the right, there was actually a way out.

Khwaja also saw clearly. Muhammad was right; they had to back up first because there was no road ahead. After backing up, they could turn right, which might help them shake off their pursuers.

However, turning right would lead them to another mountain road, which would take more time to return.

Now, it was almost dark. As long as they could endure until nightfall, they would be much safer.

“Teacher, if there are trees blocking our way ahead, what should we do?” Khwaja asked.

Although it looked passable ahead, driving such a large truck in the forest was already very lucky. Now, Khwaja had no confidence that they could completely pass through.

“If there are obstacles, we will go around them. If that's not possible, we will crash through and force our way out,” Muhammad said.

They would clear the way through mountains and build bridges over rivers. Muhammad was determined to take this path.

Because the helicopter had likely reported their location to its superiors, there might already be Soviet soldiers lying in wait on the road ahead.

Only by taking another route could they be absolutely safe, returning to the mountains as quickly as possible to join the small team of a dozen people who had returned early.

Although the truck couldn't reach the guerrilla base, they could hide it and then move the weapons and ammunition into the mountains at their leisure.

With this truckload of weapons and ammunition, they wouldn't have to worry about supplies for at least a few months.

Muhammad's thoughts, almost all of them, came to him in the heat of battle, or rather, they just popped into his head.

Muhammad was naturally suited for war. Now, it seemed his senses were even more acute, as if he could smell the opportunity for battle.

“Quick, fold the side mirrors in.” Muhammad shouted, extending his arm out the window and deftly folding the mirror back.

Military vehicles were designed for simplicity and practicality, so the windows were push-pull type. Muhammad skillfully extended his hand out the window, but Khwaja was slower.

“Rattle.” The right side mirror was immediately caught by a tree branch and pulled off, while Muhammad's side remained intact.

The narrow path they had just passed through could only accommodate the front of the truck, but the rear of the truck was wider.

Muhammad didn't hesitate, pressing the gas pedal to the floor.

“Vroom, vroom.” The KamAZ, belching black smoke, scraped between two trees. The sturdy truck only lost some paint, while countless pieces of bark, branches, and leaves fell to the ground.

With the experience from earlier, the guerrilla fighters in the back of the truck tightly gripped the handrails, bouncing with the truck's movements, listening to the sound of branches breaking, and smiling as if they were on a donkey cart going to the market. They were very confident that under the instructor's leadership, they would escape safely.

Durani was even more excited. They were sitting on a truck full of weapons, ammunition, and food. This raid on the outpost was a huge success!

Darkness gradually enveloped the land, and the KamAZ was also shrouded in darkness.

The forest was long gone, and now they were on a mountain road. However, the road was becoming increasingly difficult to navigate, and soon it would be impossible for the truck to pass.

Muhammad was fully focused, driving in the dark was very dangerous, and he couldn't use the headlights or night vision equipment. He could only rely on the dim starlight to drive, and the speed of the truck slowed down.

“Teacher, ahead is the village of Khost. We have two guerrilla fighters from this village, so it should be relatively safe,” Khwaja said.

Now, Khwaja's attitude towards Muhammad had completely changed. He was no longer as rebellious as before and now held Muhammad in high regard.

“Can we mobilize the people of this village to help us move the supplies in the truck to the mountains at night?” Muhammad asked.

Muhammad knew that although the guerrilla fighters were brave, they were not enough to move the heavy ammunition. It was crucial to transport the ammunition to the mountains under the cover of darkness, otherwise, they might be discovered by helicopters in the morning.

Moreover, during the Afghan War, the local people were very welcoming to the guerrillas, as the Soviets were invaders.

Therefore, the only way to quickly transport the ammunition back to the base was to mobilize the people to help.

“No problem,” Khwaja said.

“Brake!” With the sound of the brakes, the KamAZ finally stopped in front of the village of Khost. The road ahead was too narrow for the KamAZ to enter the deep mountains.

“Aga, Hadim, you two, come with me into the village,” Khwaja said, jumping out of the truck.

These two were from the village Khwaja mentioned.

After a bumpy ride, the guerrilla fighters jumped out of the truck. They had only seen the dust behind them and had no idea where they were.

Aga and Hadim, hearing Khwaja call them, immediately ran to Khwaja.

“Come, follow me into the village to meet the elder,” Khwaja said.

Meet the elder? Aga and Hadim were initially puzzled, what elder? But upon closer inspection, the surroundings were so familiar that they were overjoyed. They were home!

“Rest here. Durani, open two boxes of canned food, one can for each person to satisfy their hunger,” Muhammad said.

This truck had entered the outpost and loaded up the supplies there. Fortunately, the truck was not fully loaded when they came, so it could now carry more.

Besides ammunition, there was food, such as canned fish, which Muhammad recognized from the packaging.

Although it wasn't the beef cans he had hoped for, fish was still a good source of food and very filling.

“Yes.” Hearing Muhammad's words, Durani happily jumped onto the truck and brought out the boxes.

At this moment, Muhammad had no appetite. He was thinking about Khwaja's words, about going to the village to meet the elder.

One of the main reasons for the frequent wars in Afghanistan, which made it impossible to control the situation, was the numerous tribes within the country.

Not only were there ethnic differences, with Pashtuns, Tajiks, Uzbeks, Hazaras, Nuristanis, and Balochs, but there were also conflicts between these ethnic groups. Although the Pashtuns were the majority, they were divided into two hostile factions.

Moreover, each ethnic group was further divided into multiple tribes, with both cooperation and conflicts among them.

Over the past few days, Muhammad's understanding of Afghanistan had deepened. He came from the future and knew that driving out the Soviets was inevitable. But would Afghanistan be peaceful after the Soviets were gone?

No! War had already filled the people of this country with distrust and a desire for power and profit. Weapons and gunfire were everywhere, and in the end, this historically troubled country continued to shed tears in the midst of war...

Muhammad had traveled back in time and, after the trials of the past few days, had tied his fate to this place.

Could Afghanistan become the war-torn place of the future, the breeding ground for the Taliban and other regressive regimes?

No! Muhammad told himself, absolutely not!