Chapter 6

An important matter? Didn't you just say that retreating is the most important thing? As the leader of this guerrilla group, Hawaja originally made all the decisions himself. He really couldn't think of anything more important.

"Take out all the high-explosive shells from the tank and carry them away." Muhamed said, "Hurry up, be careful, only the high-explosive shells, the anti-tank and armor-piercing shells are useless."

Carry the tank shells? Hawaja was also puzzled: "Sir, we can't take the tank's gun away, what do we need those shells for?"

"Of course they are useful, you'll see when we get back." Muhamed said, and in a few steps, he had already run to the tank that had overturned while crossing a large rock. Only this tank was intact; as for the other one, even if it hadn't exploded, the inside was still unusable.

The tank's hatch was open, and Muhamed, who was very familiar with the tank, even though the tank's position was not suitable, still managed to squeeze his body and crawl in through the hatch on the turret.

The T-62 tank's ammunition capacity is forty rounds. Generally, it only carries seventeen high-explosive shells, and after some use, fifteen would be good.

Muhamed thought this as he pulled a shell out from the front ammunition rack.

Not bad, it's a high-explosive shell!

"Here!" Muhamed passed the high-explosive shell out through the turret hatch.

Outside, Durani was already there to catch it.

Seeing the two of them busy, Hawaja shook his head and signaled a few guerrillas. These guerrillas followed and carried the shells that Durani had taken out.

Unless there's artillery, what use are these shells?

Even though they thought this, they still carried them.

The shells were heavy, and they could only carry one each.

But inside the turret, shells were continuously being passed out.

Inside, Muhamed was beaming with joy, it was a good deal, really a good deal.

This tank actually had thirty high-explosive shells! Thirty!

Muhamed pulled one out and smiled, then pulled another and smiled again, until the last few, which were pointed armor-piercing shells. He had already figured it out; in Afghanistan, the guerrillas had no heavy weapons, let alone tanks. Therefore, even if they had armor-piercing shells, they had no use for them. High-explosive shells were more practical, with a longer range and greater power.

These high-explosive shells were even more useful for him!

Muhamed chuckled and climbed out of the tank's turret. He saw the surrounding guerrillas, all with long faces, carrying their weapons and a high-explosive shell, quite unwillingly.

"What do we do with these two prisoners?" a guerrilla asked.

He was originally escorting the prisoners, but now he was also carrying a high-explosive shell. Almost all the guerrillas were carrying what they thought were useless tank shells.

Hawaja looked at the two Soviets. They had driven their steel machines onto Afghan soil; they were invaders!

They had committed countless atrocities, crushing Afghans with their tanks. These people were executioners!

Now, since they couldn't take them away, they might as well deal with them right here!

Thinking this, a murderous look appeared in Hawaja's eyes.

These two tankers had escaped from the overturned tank, which was now abandoned. If they stayed there, they would only wait to die.

However, when they crawled out, the guerrillas were already close. The two tankers were shot dead, and if they hadn't surrendered, they would have been killed.

These two men's eyes were filled with fear. Although they couldn't speak Pashto, they could understand some of it.

Moreover, in such a situation, even if they didn't understand the language, they could still read something from the other person's eyes.

"We are from the 117th Regiment, 3rd Battalion, 1st Company of the 108th Division of the 40th Army. Now, we are prisoners, and we request that you abide by the Geneva Convention!" one of the Soviet tankers, a prisoner, boldly said to the people in front of him.

"What are you talking about?" Hawaja asked with a smile, but he pulled out a military knife.

Although using bullets would be quicker, Hawaja often preferred using a military knife, feeling the satisfaction of the knife piercing the other person's body. In his mind, he saw his compatriots lying under Soviet tanks.

Hawaja's hand was raised high, the blade gleaming, about to fall.

"Wait!" Muhamed said.

Why "wait" again? Hawaja looked at Muhamed, who he was starting to dislike for his combat skills.

It was like having a naked beauty in front of him, his desire already raised, just about to penetrate, but the director called a cut. Watching Japanese movies was enjoyable, but who could understand the restraint of the Japanese male actors?

"They just said we should abide by the Geneva Convention," Muhamed said.

"What nonsense convention, I only know that these people are our enemies, and they all deserve to die!" Hawaja said.

Durani, standing nearby, was also very curious. This instructor was truly unpredictable.

"No, these people certainly deserve to die, but not by our hands," Muhamed said. "Captain Hawaja, can you hand these two over to me?"

Hand them over to you? Can you handle them? Hawaja didn't believe that one person could escort two prisoners without losing them.

But then he thought about Muhamed's words, that these people shouldn't die by their hands. What did that mean? Besides, these prisoners had escaped from the damaged tank, and without Muhamed, they wouldn't have been captured.

Thinking this, Hawaja said, "Alright, I'll hand them over to you."

"First, keep these two here. I need you to send a few more men to help me set something up," Muhamed said.

What exactly was he setting up? Hawaja suddenly became interested, called two men, and personally followed Muhamed.

It was quick, in about ten minutes, Hawaja came back, but this time, his face was full of smiles, as if he had seen something delightful.

"Take them over there," Hawaja pointed to the two Soviet prisoners.

The two Soviet prisoners looked at each other, their hearts filled with unease. They followed, one step deep, one step shallow, awaiting an unknown fate.

Next to their overturned tank, Muhamed was waving at them.

"Come, come over!" Muhamed said in fluent Russian. "Stay here and wait for your people to come and pick you up."

In this world, Muhamed didn't speak Russian, but the Muhamed who had traveled through time had all of Huadongjie's memories. In his previous life, Huadongjie had sometimes participated in joint exercises with the Russian military and needed to be familiar with many Russian-imported weapons, so he had learned Russian. Besides Russian, he also knew English and Chinese.

How could someone be so kind? It was impossible. The two men felt that this Afghan must have ulterior motives.

"Come, sit down!" Muhamed said.

The two prisoners didn't have time to react when Hawaja's strong arms pushed them down to sit.

As they sat, Muhamed seemed to quickly move something under their buttocks.

Then they sat on the ground, but besides the soil, they felt something strange on their buttocks. It must have been quickly placed there by the person just now.

It felt like a lump of iron with a metal plate, pressing painfully on their buttocks. They should move to a different position.

"Don't move, you're sitting on a pressure-activated landmine. If you move, you'll be blown to pieces," Muhamed said, his tone full of mockery.

Sitting on a pressure-activated landmine? Hearing Muhamed's words, it felt like they were sitting on a red-hot iron plate. They instinctively tried to stand up.

However, before their buttocks left the metal plate, Muhamed and Hawaja's hands firmly held them down.

If you want to die, you'll have to wait until we leave before you move.

The two men, once held down, realized what was happening, and sweat immediately broke out on their faces.

"Enjoy your stay here! Your rescuers will be here soon," Muhamed waved to the two men and then followed Hawaja's guerrillas, walking quickly away.

Although the two prisoners were not tied up and were not injured, did they dare to move?

Muhamed really wanted to see the show, but he had to leave. With the strength of this guerrilla group, ambushing a lone Soviet was feasible, but if they encountered reinforcements, they would suffer losses.

Seeing these people disappear, the two prisoners trembled. After more than an hour, one of the prisoners said, "Hey, Markov, do you think we're sitting on a pressure-activated landmine?"

"What do you think?" The two men had calmed down a bit. Markov asked, "Ilich, you served in the infantry before, you should be familiar with these landmines."

"I don't think we're sitting on a landmine," Ilich said. "The guerrillas don't even have enough bullets, let alone landmines."

"Then what is it?" Markov asked.

"I think it's a grenade, yes, a grenade!" Ilich said through gritted teeth, recalling how he was forcibly pushed down and the other guy moved something under his buttocks. Actually, he had pulled the pin of the grenade and made them sit on it.

Yes, that's it! Just to scare us!

"Grenade? If we lift our buttocks and throw the grenade away, will that be enough?" Markov asked.

"Our people are coming." At that moment, Ilich heard the distant rumbling.

PS: Thanks to my friends Heiyi Xiaobai, Qiufeng Qiyeluo, and Shaoshipanda for their support!

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