Chapter 71

Lilith skillfully treated Ramal's wounds, quickly bandaging them up. She then gave Ramal a box of antibiotics, instructing him on how to take them. After Ramal left, Lilith looked at Muhammad with a tender expression, placing her arms on his.

"Darling, I can't live without you anymore. Ever since I left last time, your image has been in my mind every day," Lilith said to Muhammad. "I want to be with you, forever."

As she spoke, Lilith's red lips moved toward Muhammad's.

"I'm sorry," Muhammad tilted his head back, avoiding Lilith's lips. "I haven't thought about my own affairs until we drive out the Soviets."

Although Muhammad was now a Pakistani, he still had memories from his past life. Love should not come so quickly; he was a conservative man and found it hard to accept the passion and boldness of Western girls.

"Darling, I'll wait for you. I also look forward to the day we drive out the Soviets," Lilith rested her head on Muhammad's chest, savoring the tranquility.

"How did you come here?" Muhammad asked again, not believing that Lilith had come just because she missed him.

"I brought you food," Lilith said. "After I returned, I contacted the International Red Cross and decided to provide eight thousand kilograms of food here."

Eight thousand kilograms of food! It was like a gift in the snow. With this food, his guerrilla group could eat until next spring! There would even be extra to support the surrounding villages, which had suffered greatly from the war.

"That's wonderful!" Muhammad said, overjoyed. Then he felt a wet sensation on his face, followed by a soft sound.

Lilith boldly kissed Muhammad, and at this moment, Muhammad could not resist. She successfully "attacked" him, and a mischievous smile appeared on her face.

"Mr. Muhammad, I have a request," a voice sounded in Muhammad's ear.

Muhammad turned his head and saw that Ramal had returned.

"Ramal, now that you've joined our guerrilla group, you are our brother and our fighter. We will face any difficulties together," Muhammad said.

"Mr. Muhammad, our Tajik village is also out of food. This winter will be very hard. I wonder, can we have some food for our village? Just a little would be enough," Ramal said.

Ramal had returned because he had forgotten how to take the medicine—two or three tablets per dose. Hearing Lilith's words, he couldn't control himself and spoke up.

This request was a bit excessive.

Now, every village in Afghanistan was short of food. The Pashtun villages were also struggling. For a Pashtun guerrilla group to accept him and help him avenge his family was already a great favor. Would they really share their food with his village?

But hearing about the food, Ramal couldn't control himself. This winter was so cold, and even a little food could help them survive. Without food, many would starve to death.

He had to speak up.

"Sir, our village is also very short of food, especially the families of our young guerrilla fighters, who have lost their main labor force," Khwaja, who had approached at some point, said to Muhammad.

Khwaja felt it was inappropriate to accept Ramal. Having a Tajik in their Pashtun group was already an exception. Now, just after joining and without fighting a single battle, he was asking for food?

Their own villages were also short of food. Where would they get the food to share?

Muhammad heard Khwaja's words and understood his meaning. He knew that many were dissatisfied with the presence of an outsider in their guerrilla group.

"This is a long and arduous war," Muhammad's voice was calm and serious. "The fall of Kabul means that our Afghanistan has fallen. This is not just a war for the Pashtuns, but for all 300 ethnic groups in Afghanistan against foreign invasion. The Soviet Union is a vast empire, and even the United States dares not engage in direct armed conflict with it. Our struggle for Afghanistan's liberation is full of thorns and has a difficult future."

More and more people gathered around the cave entrance, listening to Muhammad. They knew he was right.

Although they had won several battles, these losses were insignificant to the vast empire.

"This is the third year. Our guerrilla group is just beginning to build strength, but the road to driving out the Soviets is long and distant. It might take three more years, or even thirty. Many of us may shed blood and sacrifice," Muhammad's tone was long and deep. "But I believe that the final victory will belong to us, Afghanistan. The invaders are destined to fail!"

Yes, we will win! Thinking of the hard battles over the years and the fallen brothers, some guerrilla fighters were already in tears.

"We must unite all Afghans. The Pashtuns are Afghans, and so are the Tajiks, Uzbeks, Kazakhs, Nuristanis, and Balochis! As long as they take up arms against the Soviets, they are our compatriots and comrades. All Afghans must unite as one fist to drive out the Soviets!" Muhammad said. "Unity is strength. Long live unity! Long live great Afghanistan!"

"Long live unity! Long live Afghanistan!" The guerrilla fighters raised their fists and shouted with Muhammad.

Tears filled Ramal's eyes. Thinking of his previous hostility towards this Pashtun guerrilla group, he felt deep regret. Unity! All Afghans must unite!

The shouts continued, echoing through the valley, breaking through the clouds, and drifting over all of Afghanistan.

Only through unity can there be a new Afghanistan!

"When the food arrives, we will give two thousand kilograms to the Tajik people," Muhammad said.

Two thousand kilograms! Ramal's heart trembled. He had only hoped for a few hundred kilograms to make it through the winter. With two thousand kilograms, his people would survive the winter safely!

"Mr. Muhammad, the young Tajik men in our village are at your disposal. They will become the most determined fighters!" Ramal said. "We Tajiks will fight alongside the Pashtun brothers to drive out the Soviets, shedding every drop of our blood!"

Muhammad patted Ramal's shoulder. "Send a message back to the village. We need some animals to transport the food."

With heavy snow blocking the mountains, the road was difficult, and transporting the food was crucial.

Lilith looked at Muhammad with admiration. She had come here to inform him about the food and to help him find a way to transport it to the mountains. Now, before she could say anything, Muhammad had already addressed the issue.

Outside the crowd, James's eyes had an uncertain gleam. When his eyes met Lilith's, he quickly looked away.

After settling Ramal, Muhammad went to the weapons that had been brought. When he saw the gun barrels, frames, and wheels, he quickly began assembling them.

Soon, a multi-barreled rocket launcher appeared.

With twelve barrels, one volley could destroy an enemy outpost. It was light enough to be pulled by a strong horse, perfect for guerrilla warfare in the mountains.

Muhammad immediately thought of the Soviet outposts on the mountain slopes. After training the guerrillas to aim and fire, they would start with those outposts!

After assembling several 107mm rocket launchers, Muhammad did not rest. He began working on the captured bulletproof armor.

With only a small steel saw, cutting through the armor was a painful and long process. After breaking several saw blades, Muhammad finally cut out a piece.

The sharp edges needed to be smoothed.

Lilith squatted beside Muhammad, watching him cut out a piece of shiny metal.

"Darling, what is this?" Lilith asked curiously.

"Lilith, I need your help," Muhammad said. Sewing was better done by women.

"It's an honor to help you," Lilith said.

"Use canvas to sew me a vest with pockets on both the front and back. It should fit this piece," Muhammad said, gesturing. Lilith quickly understood. "Sure, no problem." Making clothes for her lover, even just a vest, was a romantic task.

The next words made her feel a bit overwhelmed: "Make twenty of these vests. Also, make a chest strap for four magazines."

Muhammad was not just thinking of himself. The armor could make twenty bulletproof inserts, protecting twenty guerrilla fighters.

The Soviet bullet pouches were worn on the side, hanging by the hips, which was uncomfortable when running. The bullet pouches from the East were worn on the chest, with a vertical row that could hold six or seven magazines, making it very convenient, especially for AK-74 magazines.

Since Lilith was here, he might as well use her free labor.

After speaking, Muhammad started sawing the second piece, sweating profusely as he finally cut it out.

"Mr. Muhammad, are you making armor?" a voice sounded beside him.

Muhammad looked up and saw James staring at the piece he had cut out.