Chapter 2

Slapping the dust off his head and looking at the tank in front of him, at this moment, it was already a cloud of smoke, and the fire had diminished.

The turret and the tank body had separated, falling to one side, the gun barrel was already bent, and it was likely that when it landed again, the gun barrel was pointing downward. Looking at the tank, the people inside were definitely dead.

What a close call just now! Almost being crushed into meat paste by the tank, looking at the red star on the turret, Hua Dongjie felt a sense of relief at having escaped death.

All around, bodies lay haphazardly, many of them had been run over by the tank. Those with long beards and wearing long robes had only one identity: Afghan guerrillas.

And the tank that had been destroyed in front of him belonged to only one era: the 1980s, when the Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan!

Hua Dongjie's mind was in chaos. This place was very familiar yet very strange. How did he end up here? This was a powder keg.

Afghanistan had never been pacified. In the future, even after the world's bully occupied it, it remained a quagmire.

What was his identity here now? There were some vague impressions in his mind, but he wasn't quite sure.

"Sir, when I saw you being run over by the Soviet tank, I thought... May God protect us, the evil Satan's tank was finally destroyed by us." Just as Hua Dongjie was still standing there in a daze, a man stood up from the side of a broken mud wall and spoke to Hua Dongjie.

His eyes were sunken, his nose was somewhat high, his skin was dark, his beard was untrimmed, almost covering his mouth, and he was wearing a white robe that had now turned brown. This was a typical Middle Easterner, or rather, a local Afghan.

Seeing Hua Dongjie looking at him with a dazed look, the Afghan guerrilla said, "Sir, are you hurt? Did you hurt your head?"

Just now, when he saw the instructor being run over by the Soviet tank, Durani Shah's heart almost leaped to his throat.

For more than two years, the Soviets had occupied all of Afghanistan. In the face of the Soviet invasion, Afghanistan was enraged, and they spontaneously formed guerrillas to resist the Soviet Satan's invasion.

However, the disparity in strength was obvious. After controlling the major cities, the Soviets began to attack the mountainous areas controlled by the guerrillas, and the guerrillas suffered continuous defeats. Faced with tanks and aircraft, they were helpless. At this time, a batch of instructors finally came from the neighboring country of Pakistan to guide their military training.

Along with them came various weapons, such as the rocket launchers they were using now.

The instructor was leading them in training in the mountains when they were ambushed by the Soviets. They followed the instructor and escaped, but the tank kept chasing them, and they couldn't shake it off.

At this moment, because the tank was chasing too fast, the infantry behind couldn't keep up. Without the protection of the infantry, the tank was very vulnerable. After seeing this situation, the instructor decided to stop, take cover, and prepare to attack the tank.

Who knew that the first rocket missed, and their movements were immediately discovered by the Soviet tank driver. Although the instructor shouted to take cover, the guerrillas still scattered.

As a result, the tank charged forward, firing its machine gun, and almost all the guerrillas were killed.

Originally, they thought the Soviets would just leave, and perhaps some of their brothers who weren't dead could be saved. However, they saw the Soviets leave a tank to crush everything in its path.

The entire guerrilla force was left with only the instructor and Durani. If the instructor hadn't pressed Durani down tightly, Durani would have been killed when he stood up.

Now, this tank wouldn't even spare the bodies, and the instructor was enraged.

Durani watched as the instructor suddenly ran out from his hiding place, holding a rocket launcher, trying to get closer before firing. However, he was immediately shot down by the tank's machine gun.

Then, the tank rolled over him. Durani's eyes turned red, and just as he was about to rush forward, he miraculously saw the instructor stand up and, very close to the back of the tank, fire the rocket.

As the rocket flew out, the tank finally caught fire and exploded, a very spectacular scene.

With no immediate threat, Durani ran out from his hiding place and went to the instructor.

Who knew that the instructor seemed to be dazed.

"Durani?" Hua Dongjie tried to say. He himself couldn't believe that he could speak this very difficult Pashto without learning it.

"Sir, you finally remembered my name!" Durani said, "You are too great, destroying a Soviet tank!"

Great? At this moment, Hua Dongjie's mind had inherited more memories. He had already confirmed that he had traveled through time. The real Muhammad Kamran was killed by the Soviet tank's machine gun, and he had taken his place, becoming this instructor from Pakistan who was guiding the guerrillas.

And now, this guerrilla force was left with only Durani, showing how clumsy this Muhammad was.

Of course, using a rocket launcher to destroy an enemy tank was very dangerous. Moreover, if he hadn't been trained in the army to withstand a tank rolling over him, he probably wouldn't have been so calm to let the tank pass without changing his position.

Just a slight move, and he would have been crushed into meat paste. During training, some of the trainees even wet their pants when the tank rolled over them. Although the two tracks wouldn't crush them, it was still very terrifying.

Only by sweating more in peacetime could one bleed less in war.

Damn heaven, throwing him here, in 1981, in the northern mountains of Jalalabad, near the Pakistani border. Besides accepting the identity of Muhammad, he had to face countless tests of blood and fire. Although he was extremely depressed, Hua Dongjie quickly accepted this reality. He was the Pakistani instructor, Muhammad, and he would lead Afghanistan to a bright future.

Muhammad stood up, looked eastward, and smelled the blood in the air. Now, there was only battle!

"Clean up the battlefield, gather the weapons, and follow me." Muhammad said.

Go? Where? Durani was stunned.

Muhammad had already started bending down to pick up the weapons of his fallen comrades.

The bodies were crushed to a pulp, and the guns they carried were also damaged.

From the mangled bodies, Muhammad carefully and quickly searched for intact magazines. Soon, he had gathered four magazines and filled his ammunition bag. Then, he happily found four intact rockets among the bodies.

At this moment, Durani was still standing there, stunned.

"Let's go." Muhammad said, moving forward.

Durani followed Muhammad for a few steps and felt something was wrong. "Sir, where are we going?"

"We are going to cause trouble for the Soviets." Muhammad said.

He vaguely remembered that the tank that had been chasing them had separated from the infantry. This tank, without the protection of the infantry, was Muhammad's target.

Just the two of them, causing trouble for the Soviets? Durani felt like he had heard wrong. The instructor had just destroyed an enemy tank, but dozens of their own people had died. They were at a disadvantage, and if they went again, they might not come back.

"What, are you afraid?" Muhammad asked.

Durani immediately shook his head. "I'm not afraid! If I was afraid of death, I wouldn't have joined the guerrillas."

In Muhammad's memory, Durani's family originally lived in Jalalabad. During the initial Soviet invasion, when the city was occupied, Durani's family was killed. So, Durani had a deep hatred for the Soviets.

Now, hearing Muhammad ask if he was afraid, Durani immediately stood up straight, shouldered his rocket launcher, and carried his rifle, following Muhammad along the small path.

At this moment, Muhammad's steps were strong. Although there were no large-scale wars in his homeland in the future, as a special forces member, he had participated in many operations and was very skilled in guerrilla tactics.

In these mountains, it was his domain. His predecessor had been beaten so badly by the Soviets! Muhammad truly felt sorry for his predecessor.

Now, it was time for him to show his skills on the battlefield!

At this stage, the Soviets were still in the early stages of the war. The Soviet army, prepared for large-scale conflicts in Europe, was not suitable for mountain warfare. For example, the T-62 tanks of the main 40th Army were not suitable for mountain warfare. The tank's gun had a small firing range, the powerful engine consumed a lot of fuel, and the logistics burden was heavy. Especially without infantry support, the tank was a sitting duck. After a year or two of practice, the Soviets stopped using these tanks and switched to infantry fighting vehicles.

Of course, Muhammad was also prepared. If he were to die, he hoped to be transported back. This godforsaken place was really not to his liking. At least, the habit of taking a bath every day would have to be completely changed.

Muhammad walked quickly. After half an hour, he heard the rumbling sound in the distance.

"Soviets!" Durani said.

Who else could it be? The Afghan guerrillas didn't have tanks. Muhammad hid behind a large rock and saw that the six tanks were the same ones that had been chasing them.

Six tanks! They were only two people. Durani saw these tanks and knew that the best choice now was to stay still and quietly hope that these iron monsters would disappear from their sight.

Although Muhammad's mind was filled with the excitement of battle, he also knew that now was not the time to ambush the Soviet tanks.

At most, they could destroy one Soviet tank, but the other tanks would discover them, and the result would be their own death.

Now, they couldn't act.

Looking at the red star on the turret and the black smoke coming out, Muhammad sat down on the ground, unwillingly.

The Soviets left. They were executioners, and he had no way to avenge the dead soldiers.

Looking at the black smoke in the distance, suddenly, an idea popped into Muhammad's head.

"Durani, I remember there should be a valley ahead, right?" Muhammad asked.

Just after traveling through time, Muhammad couldn't be sure if this memory was real.

"Yes, it's about twenty kilometers ahead." Durani said.

"Good, let's take the small path and get there before the Soviets." Muhammad said.