Chapter 70

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As cherry blossoms danced in the wind, Misaki opened the old diary and read the words of the promise written there.

Muhammad stood at the classroom door, took a deep breath, and firmly held the letter containing the secret given to him by his mother.

Muhammad knew that this was a significant event. Changing Afghanistan's fate was not as simple as driving out the Soviets. The most important thing was to integrate the more than 300 large and small ethnic groups, to make people from various factions change their original hostility, and to unite them once again. Otherwise, Afghanistan would always be in a state of war. Even if the Soviets left, the warlord conflicts would still continue.

"Welcome you," Muhammad said. "All of us Afghans should unite and fight to the death to drive out the Soviets!"

Muhammad's statement made Khwaja frown. Personally, he did not welcome the Tajik's joining, but now the instructor was the absolute leader of this guerrilla group, so Khwaja did not dare to voice his opposition at the moment. He would talk to the instructor privately when they returned.

The Soviet forces were on the verge of destruction. Girkov put everything on the line, trying to break through the mountain top, but ultimately failed. The last few men fell just a few dozen meters away from the guerrilla position on the mountain top.

Girkov closed his eyes in frustration.

"Clear the battlefield and confirm that all the Soviets are dead," Muhammad's order was cold and direct.

"Yes." Hearing Muhammad's order, the guerrilla with an assault rifle fixed a bayonet to it.

Confirming the enemy's death was something the victorious side had to do. The Soviet method was to use tanks to crush the bodies into pulp, while the Afghan guerrillas used bayonets.

"Swish." As the guerrilla thrust the assault rifle forward, the bayonet pierced the chest of a Soviet soldier. The Soviet soldier shouted, grabbing the bayonet and trying to stand up.

Indeed, he was faking death! The guerrilla did not hesitate and pulled the trigger.

"Bang." The bullet shot out from the muzzle above the bayonet, and the Soviet soldier's body fell limp.

The guerrilla pulled out the bayonet, and blood spurted out. He bent down and stripped the Soviet soldier of his equipment, weapons, ammunition, rations, and water bottle.

The battlefield was being cleared quickly and efficiently.

Muhammad, along with a dozen riders, began to return to their base. He thought about the rocket launchers that had been brought in and felt excited.

After half a day of travel, the horses were tired, so they all dismounted and led the horses along the mountain road.

After crossing two mountains, Muhammad saw the Mi-24 Hind, which had been burned to a shell, leaving only the skeleton. A board-like object under the cockpit caught his attention.

As a low-altitude killer, the Hind was always at risk of ground fire. To protect the crew, the cockpit was lined with a layer of titanium armor, which even 12.7mm machine guns could not penetrate.

In previous encounters with the Hind, there had never been time to dissect it. Now, with the Soviets unaware of the destruction of the unit here, it was a good opportunity to remove the titanium armor from the bottom of the Hind.

Thinking of this, Muhammad walked towards the Hind. The titanium armor, despite the burning, remained intact.

Resistant to high temperatures, strong, and hard, these were the advantages of titanium. Muhammad praised it as he found a toolbox in the burned cockpit, took out a wrench, and began to remove the titanium armor.

Durrani was puzzled. If the helicopter had not exploded, the rocket pods and machine guns would have been the most interesting parts. Now, with those weapons destroyed, why was the instructor interested in the flat plate?

Soon, Muhammad removed the titanium armor, which was over two square meters in area but could be lifted with one hand.

"Instructor, what's the use of this thing?" Durrani asked Muhammad.

"To make armor," Muhammad said. "Durrani, do you know the knights of medieval Afghanistan? They were fully clad in armor, weren't they impressive?"

Durrani nodded. "Instructor, you want to make a suit of armor?"

Muhammad nodded.

Actually, it was not just armor. Muhammad thought of the equipment from his future life, the bulletproof inserts.

Bulletproof vests were outdated. Bullets hitting soft bulletproof vests could cause internal injuries even if they did not kill. In the future, protective gear was designed to resist hard impacts. Special forces soldiers wore tactical vests with bulletproof inserts, made of ceramic, which could stop 7.62mm bullets. The U.S. military had fully equipped their forces with these, saving countless lives on the Afghan battlefield.

The wealthy U.S. did not use titanium for bulletproof inserts, but Muhammad had already obtained a titanium helmet. Adding this titanium armor would increase his chances of survival on the battlefield.

This piece of titanium armor could be cut into about twenty sets.

The Pamir Plateau in winter was cold and desolate. The cold wind blew away the clouds, and visibility was high.

A reconnaissance aircraft flew back and forth over the mountains north of Jalalabad. Finally, it discovered many bodies lying haphazardly in a valley. The camera flashed, capturing the scene.

Bagram.

The wheels of the reconnaissance aircraft touched the ground. Although the snow on the runway had been cleared, it was still slippery. The aircraft skidded an extra 500 meters before stopping.

Without waiting for the pilot to disembark, the mechanic opened the camera in the belly of the aircraft, removed the film, and ran to the developing area.

Three minutes later, the photos were placed on Kulikov's desk.

No survivors. All the soldiers, the elite reconnaissance company, were dead in the valley. They had not only been shot but also stabbed with bayonets.

This was an ambush. The reconnaissance company had fallen into a guerrilla trap. Shell casings on the mountain top showed where the guerrillas had fired from. Kulikov felt a sense of dizziness.

The Afghan guerrillas had set an ambush and wiped out an entire company! The company had been planning a surprise attack but was ambushed instead!

"Bang." Kulikov slammed his fist on the table, making it shake.

"Deploy a large force and completely annihilate the guerrillas here!" Kulikov was furious. An entire company had been wiped out without a single survivor, a disgrace to the entire 108th Division.

"Commander, it's winter," the chief of staff, Belgrade, said.

The Afghan winter was extremely cold. Although the Soviets were used to the cold, fighting in this terrain was still difficult.

The key issues were that mechanized units could not follow, and logistics were insufficient. Deploying a battalion or larger force to the mountains was almost impossible.

"Then deploy our aircraft!" Kulikov said. "Bomb the entire northern Jalalabad area and turn every village into ashes!"

Thinking of his son's tragic death, the destruction of this company, and the casualties the Afghan guerrillas had inflicted over the past few months, Kulikov revealed his brutal side. "Request special munitions from the military command."

Hearing "special munitions," Belgrade's body stiffened. Special munitions referred to chemical weapons. With the strong winter winds, the area of casualties would greatly increase.

"Commander, the military command will not agree. Last time, when incendiary bombs were used in Jalalabad, a village was destroyed, and the entire Western world published those photos. Our diplomatic department was very passive," Belgrade said. "The West is strongly opposing this operation, and even the Moscow Olympics were boycotted by Western countries."

"Then we will conduct a regular bombing, and the ground crew will hang the wrong bombs," Kulikov said. "Target: all villages within 50 kilometers of this location."

Kulikov's face was twisted with a cruel smile. The Afghan guerrillas thought they were powerful, but in the face of the mighty Soviet army, all resistance would be crushed!

"Commander, if something goes wrong..." Belgrade knew the consequences of using special munitions, which were prohibited by the Geneva Convention.

"No 'ifs.' If there are any problems, I will take responsibility," Kulikov said. "Carry out my orders!"

"Yes." The chief of staff saluted Kulikov, and his hand trembled as he lowered it.

He turned and walked out.

Cold and hunger would not defeat a nation. For thousands of years, the Afghans had been accustomed to the cold here.

Even though it was snowing outside, many people walked barefoot, wearing only their long robes, regardless of the season.

Now, the guerrilla base was filled with joy. The Americans had not only provided weapons and ammunition but also some cold-weather gear, such as warm military boots.

"Give him some medicine to prevent infection," Muhammad said, bringing Rameel to a cave entrance marked with a cross, where the guerrilla medic was stationed.

"Yes." A person came out of the cave.

Muhammad was surprised. Why was it Lylith?

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