Chapter 55

"Fire!" Muhammad shouted loudly, and then pressed the trigger button.

"Rat-tat-tat..." Following Muhammad's operation, the machine gun roared, and 12.7mm bullets poured into the sky like a waterfall.

Muhammad tightly pressed the crosshairs on the center of the plane and kept firing, firing!

The bullets flew into the sky, tracing beautiful arcs as they headed towards the plane.

"Bang, bang, bang." A few bullets pierced through the wings of the T-8, creating several holes.

"There's a machine gun position on the ground, pull up immediately!" The voice of the pilot Beliyev from another plane came through the headphones. The pilot of the T-8, Krishevich, did not immediately pull up but instead lowered the nose of the plane and activated the rocket pods.

If he pulled up now, he would expose the flat underside of the plane to the machine gun. Even if he managed to pull up, the belly would still be riddled with holes.

Come on! Afghan guerrillas! Since we've found you, there's no need to bomb the villages anymore!

Fyodorov and Solinovich were killed by rockets in Jalalabad, leaving no one to fly these two planes. It took over a month for two new pilots to arrive. These two were not from the test flight institute but were sent from the front-line air force in Eastern Europe.

Test pilots were too valuable. The loss of two of them made the leaders of the test flight institute regret sending their own people. They had trained several front-line pilots, and these two were the first to complete their training and were sent over.

The two had different levels of experience. Krishevich had engaged with NATO air forces multiple times and had strong psychological resilience, while Beliyev was a rookie with less than 500 hours of total flight time.

Krishevich's T-8 began to dive towards the machine gun position. Smoke billowed from the rocket pods under the wings.

"Swish, swish, swish." After firing only three rockets, Krishevich quickly pulled up. The smoke from these rockets was too heavy and could cause the engine to stall if inhaled.

"Durrani!" Muhammad shouted, watching the rockets fly towards Durrani's position. Instantly, the heavy machine gun was engulfed in flames and smoke, and he shouted.

Damn Soviets! Muhammad knew he was the next target for the Soviets but did not back down. He pushed the machine gun, raising the barrel, and continued to fire at the T-8 as it pulled up.

"Rat-tat-tat, rat-tat-tat..." The bullets caught up with the plane, creating holes in the tail and damaging the rudder.

Krishevich felt the plane tremble, and the tail began to shake rhythmically. He knew the rudder was damaged. Pushing the control stick, he felt a surge of joy; the plane was incredibly sturdy and still handled perfectly!

The T-8 circled in the sky and dove again, with another machine gun position appearing in his sights.

In the face of the Soviet army's overwhelming weapons advantage, the Afghan guerrillas were merely targets for slaughter! Krishevich thought to himself as he continued to press the button on the control stick.

"Swish, swish, swish." As the rockets were launched from under the wings, Krishevich's body instinctively wanted to move backward, but the seat held him firmly. He could only watch as a few bullets appeared on the windshield in front of him.

The 12.7mm machine gun bullets hit the T-8's windshield accurately. If they had penetrated the glass, they would have killed Krishevich in his seat. However, the sturdy glass stopped the bullets, and Krishevich was unharmed, though he broke out in a cold sweat.

Muhammad's machine gun continued to roar, firing, firing, firing!

He had already aimed at the plane, and the bullets created holes in the fuselage, but the plane continued to fly.

Smoke billowed from the wings, and more rockets were launched towards him.

Retreat! Muhammad knew that if he didn't leave, he would soon be turned to ashes along with the machine gun. He stepped back and saw Lylis standing behind him.

Lylis was clearly terrified, standing still in the face of the incoming rockets.

Muhammad was sweating. When did this woman stand behind him? If it had been a Soviet soldier, he would have been shot dead by now.

"Run!" Muhammad shouted, and this shout woke Lylis up.

Unfortunately, it was too late. The rockets, whistling and carrying heat, were right in front of them.

"Danger!" Muhammad shouted again, then moved forward, grabbing Lylis and falling on top of her.

This was an instinctive action, and Muhammad didn't even think about why he was doing it or why he was using his body to protect this woman.

He was the guerrilla instructor, leading the guerrillas to victory after victory, while this girl was a Red Cross volunteer. His life was far more important than hers. Sacrificing his life to save hers was not worth it. Muhammad didn't think about these things; in his military career, the idea that soldiers protect their country and people was deeply ingrained in his mind.

Muhammad grabbed Lylis and fell, intending to press her under his body. However, they were on a slope, and Lylis, after falling, slid down the hill involuntarily.

Muhammad and Lylis rolled down the hill, not knowing how many times they tumbled. They only knew that the rockets exploded nearby, the shock waves nearly lifted them into the air, the ground shook, nearly damaging their internal organs, and shrapnel and rocks flew past them.

Finally, they rolled to the bottom of the hill. Muhammad, seeing Lylis with her eyes closed and blood on her forehead, became anxious, shaking her and calling, "Lylis, Lylis!"

The Afghan resistance against the Soviets was not alone; many people supported them, including the interests of major powers and personal friendships. Lylis, for example, had come here voluntarily and would now rest here forever.

Muhammad felt a mix of sorrow and anger. He had failed to protect Lylis, a young girl, who died in the Soviet bombing.

"Stinger missile, fire! Avenge Lylis, avenge Durrani!" Muhammad shouted.

The machine gun positions had already fired two rounds, and the Stinger missiles should have had a chance, but none had been launched. Muhammad was furious.

Just as he finished shouting, Muhammad felt a wetness on his cheek, followed by a "pop."

Looking again, Lylis was smiling at him, having just kissed his face.

"Muhammad, I like you. Actually, I came here as a volunteer because I heard about your deeds," Lylis, a bold Western girl, said straightforwardly, "I want to marry you."

Lylis looked at Muhammad with tender eyes, hoping he would return her kiss, and then they would embrace and engage in physical intimacy, how romantic in the midst of war!

However, her beautiful dream was immediately shattered. Muhammad leaped up and ran to the nearest guerrilla, taking the shoulder-fired missile from him.

The guerrilla had already aimed at the plane, but the missile had not been launched. When Muhammad took over, he was furious; the thermal battery had not been activated, making it impossible to lock on!

Training and combat were different. In training, the thermal battery was not connected; once connected, it was in a launch-ready state. If it was just a drill, the battery would be drained in a few attempts, and a new one would be needed. The guerrillas did not have spare batteries.

As a result, the guerrillas, in combat, had not activated the thermal battery, just like in training. Muhammad was dissatisfied; he would have to train them in real combat.

Muhammad operated the missile skillfully. At that moment, another T-8 attack aircraft was flying towards them.

The first T-8 had destroyed two machine gun positions but was riddled with holes and had to return. This second T-8 was now coming back to fly another round, ready to attack if it found any guerrillas.

The plane flew through the valley between two hills. The pilot, Beliyev, observed carefully. Krishevich had done well, and he didn't want to fall behind. He had to take out at least a few guerrillas!

The ground below was barren and yellow, and the guerrillas seemed to have vanished. Beliyev wanted to pull up, but his mission was not complete. He had to drop the bombs on the village supporting the guerrillas.

"Boom." Suddenly, an explosion sounded behind him. The plane shook violently, and numerous warning lights flashed on his instrument panel.

Left engine failure!

Hydraulic fluid leak and fire!

Fire suppression system activated!

Damn! What kind of weapon is this! Beliyev cursed as he quickly controlled the plane, shutting down the left engine, extinguishing the fire, and pulling up!

On the ground, Muhammad watched the T-8 wobble and pull up, disappearing into the mountains. He helplessly spread his hands. The T-8, the not-yet-finalized Su-25, had incredible combat resilience!