Chapter 53

Just as the Caucasian military dog was about to continue its bite, it suddenly rolled its eyes and its entire body went limp.

Muhammad had no choice but to stab with the bayonet. When he pushed it into the dog's mouth, he continued to apply force, and the bayonet pierced through the dog's skull and into the brain behind it. Instantly, the dog didn't even bark before it died.

Muhammad didn't have time to pull the bayonet back; he had pushed it in too hard. He could only pull his hand out, and the dog's body rolled off the roof.

"Charge!" Muhammad said to Osama. At this point, there was no other way. They had to charge down this street to reach the tunnel. Once they were in the tunnel, they would be able to escape successfully.

Muhammad raised his AK-74 and fired at the Soviet soldiers hiding nearby. This time, he used the automatic mode.

"Rat-tat-tat, rat-tat-tat..." Bullets shot out from the gun, aimed at the Soviets, who ducked to avoid them.

Muhammad and Osama were about to jump down from the roof. It was just a few steps to the other side, but this dangerous path had to be taken!

Just as Muhammad was about to stand up, he suddenly crouched down again.

From the corner of the street, a rumbling sound came. A military jeep appeared, and it was open-topped with a heavy machine gun mounted on the back.

The Soviets arrived too quickly! Their reaction was very swift. When Muhammad saw the jeep, a sense of foreboding filled his mind. Was he really going to die here?

"Jump quickly!" Muhammad said.

"Rat-tat-tat." The machine gun on the jeep started firing at the roof. Instantly, large holes appeared on the roof, and with a loud crash, the roof collapsed.

This was an ordinary civilian house! If there were people inside, they would definitely be injured. These Soviets didn't care about the lives of Afghans!

Muhammad didn't have time to think. The machine gun continued to fire, not only collapsing the roof but also aiming lower. The 12.7mm bullets hit the mud walls of the house, creating large holes with each shot. After a dozen bullets, the entire wall was penetrated.

With a loud crash, the house completely collapsed, and dust filled the air.

At the moment of the collapse, the machine gun stopped firing. The gunner looked at the collapsed house, certain that the prisoners couldn't escape!

At this moment, the gunner's eyes suddenly widened. He saw a figure emerge from the dust and heard a sharp sound.

"Bang!"

Muhammad suddenly stood up, raised his gun, aimed, and fired in one fluid motion.

The bullet flew over, and a hole instantly appeared in the gunner's head. The gunner had his finger on the trigger but didn't pull it.

"Soviets, get out of Afghanistan!" Muhammad shouted, holding his AK-74 and charging out.

Osama followed Muhammad, rushing out together.

The bravery of the two men suppressed the Soviet soldiers. They didn't have the courage to return fire, as the gunshots were too accurate. In the moment of the house's collapse, Muhammad stood up, fired, and hit the gunner—truly a marksman! Engaging in close combat with such a person was very stressful.

Seizing this brief opportunity, Muhammad and Osama charged onto the street. At this moment, their lives hung by a thread.

Run, run, run across the street to the other side!

Just as they reached the middle of the road, Muhammad suddenly bent down: "Lie down!"

In this short moment, another Soviet soldier stood up next to the gunner's body and started firing at Muhammad and Osama.

"Rat-tat-tat." The machine gun bullets whizzed past their ears. If they had been a fraction of a second slower, they would have been cut in half by the machine gun.

The machine gun immediately suppressed them. They lay on the ground and started rolling to the side, but even so, being hit was only a matter of time.

Was this really how they were going to die? No! Absolutely not! Muhammad shouted in his heart. His cause in Afghanistan had just begun, and many people followed him. He couldn't die here!

"Rocket launcher!" At this moment, a Soviet soldier who had just stood up to shoot shouted.

Suddenly, another group of people appeared on the street. One of them carried a rocket launcher and fired at the roaring machine gun.

"Boom!" With the rocket flying over, the machine gun and the entire jeep were immediately engulfed in flames.

"Run!" Muhammad got up again, leading Osama and continuing to run forward.

Their people had arrived.

Durani, with the rocket launcher, destroyed the jeep, retreated to the yard, reloaded, and when he appeared again, the rocket flew towards the Soviet soldiers who were firing. Instantly, several Soviet soldiers were thrown into the air with screams.

Khawaja, Herman... They raised their guns and fired at the Soviet soldiers, covering Muhammad's retreat.

"Quick, into the tunnel!" Khawaja shouted when he saw Muhammad finally arrive. After shooting another Soviet soldier with his SVD, he followed into the tunnel.

When he was the last to enter, he blocked the tunnel entrance and set up a booby trap outside.

This was the last time they would use this tunnel. After this battle, the Soviets would discover it. They would take various measures, such as detonating a powerful bomb on the surface to collapse the tunnel. They had to act quickly.

Everyone ran swiftly. Yesterday, after they evacuated from here, they had been waiting. When they realized Muhammad hadn't returned, Khawaja made the decision to come back and assist him!

They arrived just in time. If they had been a second later, Muhammad and Osama would have been riddled with bullets by the machine gun.

When they emerged from the other end of the tunnel, everyone was out of breath. The tunnel was low, and running bent over was not comfortable.

This was already a sheep pen outside the city. The hillside, though barren, had some wild grass for the sheep. When the Soviets occupied Jalalabad, the sheep were taken to the army, and the pen was left empty and abandoned.

Now, when Muhammad emerged from the tunnel, he saw a row of horses in the pen and was immediately delighted.

"Quick, get on the horses!" Khawaja shouted.

In the mountains, the guerrillas relied only on their legs, which was very slow. Cars required fuel, which was difficult to obtain. In comparison, horses, which could run on grass, were the guerrillas' favorite.

With these horses, the guerrillas' future battles would be smoother, allowing them to move freely and more quickly than the Soviet T-62s.

Everyone mounted the horses and rode out of the pen, heading towards the distant mountains.

"Khawaja, where did these horses come from?" Muhammad asked Khawaja when they were in the mountains and in a safe area.

"From Hadim," Khawaja said. "Hadim, in Jalalabad, accidentally made contact with an organization called the Service Camp. The Service Camp learned that our guerrillas had difficulty moving, so they sent us several dozen horses. When you went to Peshawar last time, there was no time to report to you. When you returned, we went to Jalalabad, and the horses were on the way."

Service Camp? Muhammad glanced at Osama and said, "Brother Osama, thank you for your help."

Osama smiled and said to Muhammad, "Sir Muhammad, if it weren't for your help, I would have found it difficult to escape from prison this time. We have been through life and death together, and it's been exhilarating. In the past, I only helped the guerrillas in the Service Camp. Now, I request to join your guerrilla group and fight alongside you!"

Osama had not directly participated in combat before. This was his first time, and the several close calls with death had made his resolve even stronger. When he saw the Soviets fall before his eyes, he felt an indescribable sense of satisfaction. This was the life of a passionate man!

He wanted to join this guerrilla group and fight together!

"Osama, the Service Camp has a greater role," Muhammad said. "Your Service Camp provides equipment to the guerrillas, allowing them to kill more Soviet devils, which is more important than fighting on the front lines."

"The Service Camp will continue to operate normally," Osama said. "My trusted confidants will continue to run it without me. I don't want to be a nameless hero in the background anymore. I want to use my gun to wage a grand battle on the land of Afghanistan, fighting alongside my Afghan brothers to drive out the Soviets! Muslims have no borders!"

Hearing Osama's determination, Muhammad said, "Since that's the case, I, on behalf of the guerrillas, welcome your joining. Let's fight together to drive out the Soviets!"

Osama's heart surged with emotion. He felt that joining this guerrilla group would give him a new life, and more battles awaited him.

"Let's go, back to the base." Muhammad said, pulling the reins and about to mount the horse.

Just as he was about to mount, Muhammad's body suddenly went limp, and he fell off the horse.

"Trainer!" everyone shouted.

Osama, who was closest, ran over to help Muhammad up. As soon as he touched him, he pulled his hand back—it was scorching hot! Muhammad had a high fever!