Chapter 97

"Range thirty-six point eight, speed two hundred and thirty, set the data." Muhammad shouted to Faisal.

At this moment, Muhammad was already sitting in the gunner's seat, while Faisal was in the seat for the sight setter. Muhammad's eyes were fixed on the high-angle reflector sight with a sunshade, and his right hand was turning the direction control, quickly aligning the crosshairs with the target.

When he saw Faisal standing motionless on the anti-aircraft gun, Muhammad knew that the guy was too engrossed and couldn't hear him. At this point, the Mi-8 helicopter was already flying over, and it would be very difficult to get Faisal to move away. There was only one option left.

Use this anti-aircraft gun to take down the Soviet helicopter!

Firing an anti-aircraft gun at a helicopter sounds correct, but the helicopter still has the advantage, given its height, speed, and ability to initiate attacks. The anti-aircraft gun can only defend passively, and Faisal was operating the complex aiming system for the first time.

Muhammad didn't have time to say much. When he jumped into the seat, Faisal only then noticed Muhammad's arrival. In his surprise, he heard the roar and realized that the Soviet Mi-8 was approaching.

Faisal quickly jumped into the seat on the right and, following Muhammad's orders, rapidly set the data, turning the knobs to align the dials correctly.

Even Muhammad wasn't entirely confident. Last night, when firing at ground targets, the distances were short, and visual aiming was sufficient. Now, aiming at a helicopter in the sky required perfect accuracy.

At this moment, Muhammad was racing against time. Once the direction was aligned, he immediately pressed the firing pedal without hesitation.

"Boom, boom boom." As he pressed the pedal, a puff of blue smoke emerged from the gun barrel, followed by a burst of flames, and the shells flew out.

At this moment, the Mi-8 had also spotted them. The pilot quickly reacted, and the helicopter began to climb rapidly. The weapons operator started to prepare for a well-organized attack.

This anti-aircraft gun had a lethal range of only two kilometers. If the Mi-8 flew out of this range, it could easily launch rockets from a safe distance, turning the area into a sea of fire.

Muhammad's eyes were fixed on the sight, watching the shells fly up and explode far from the Mi-8, which made him realize the problem.

Damn, the ZAP-23 vector sight on this anti-aircraft gun wasn't calibrated! Muhammad saw the impact points and knew that the sight was significantly off from the actual shell trajectory. This would definitely miss!

What to do? Muhammad lifted his head from the sight, saw the actual explosion points below the target, and immediately used his left hand to adjust the elevation, raising the gun's angle and continuing to fire.

"Boom, boom boom." A few more shells were fired, but this time, the azimuth was off!

Muhammad continued to adjust the direction and fired again.

"Boom, boom boom!" The fifty-round ammunition box was almost empty. If they couldn't hit the target, their only option would be to run for their lives.

The helicopter pilot mockingly watched the anti-aircraft gun below. The Afghan guerrillas could only use RPGs at best; they couldn't operate this anti-aircraft gun proficiently.

The pilot hovered the helicopter, and the weapons operator pressed the launch button. Black smoke emerged from the short wings, and rockets were launched from the launchers.

The last 23mm shell was fired, flying in a bright arc.

As the shell approached, the weapons operator widened his eyes and shouted to the pilot, "Pull up, pull up!"

The two turboshaft engines on top roared to full power, and the rotors accelerated, lifting the large Mi-8 upward.

"Boom!" At this moment, the shell hit the top of the Mi-8, and just two meters away, the shell exploded, sending fragments into the engines.

A deafening noise came from the engines, and numerous red warning lights flashed on the pilot's dashboard.

Engine failure! The Mi-8, now without power, plummeted like a stone, the fuselage spinning uncontrollably. The top rotor began to spin in the opposite direction, slowing the descent. This was the helicopter's last self-rescue measure—autorotation.

The two pilots screamed in terror, their bodies spinning with the helicopter, their brains completely disoriented.

"Boom!" The helicopter crashed to the ground, and the top engine emitted a plume of fire, which quickly enveloped the entire helicopter. The engine ignited the fuel, which in turn ignited the weapons on the wings.

Muhammad didn't have time to see the results. The dozen rockets were already streaking toward them.

"Jump!" Muhammad shouted, knowing it might not help, but he had to try.

Jumping from the firing position, Muhammad's legs seemed to have boundless strength as he ran quickly forward, heading directly toward the rockets. Muhammad was betting on the Soviet gunners' lead time.

"Boom, boom boom!" The rockets flew quickly, lifting the ground around the truck and sending dust flying everywhere.

"Trainer!" Khwaja, Rameel, Herman, Osama, and others ran quickly toward them. Osama ran the fastest, but he was also complaining.

That fool Faisal, not following the trainer's orders, should have died. The trainer still had to save him! Truly... undisciplined, not following orders on the battlefield, he should have been shot long ago.

The power of the dozen rockets was astonishing. Muhammad's head was dizzy, and he slowly opened his eyes, feeling a heavy weight on his body.

Who? Muhammad pushed the person off him and sat up to see it was Faisal!

Faisal's face was pale, and he looked at Muhammad and said, "Sir, you're not hurt, that's great."

Muhammad was wearing a homemade tactical vest with titanium alloy plates that could stop 7.62mm bullets. The only vulnerable parts were his legs and arms. These days of combat had proven that this protective gear was very effective.

Even without Faisal's protection, Muhammad would have been fine.

But... Faisal was clearly injured. His face was pale, and blood was continuously flowing from his back.

"Sir, Sir." The guerrillas had already gathered around.

"Quick, take Faisal away." Muhammad said.

They hastily made a stretcher, and the guerrillas carried Faisal, running quickly along the rugged mountain path.

After ten minutes, another Mi-8 appeared. This Mi-8 only saw the crashed companion and the anti-aircraft truck destroyed by rockets. The truck and the gun were completely demolished.

Where were the guerrillas? The Mi-8 circled the battlefield, searching.

On the rugged mountain path, the guerrillas ran quickly, and Faisal on the stretcher felt his eyelids growing heavier.

"Faisal, don't sleep!" Muhammad said, "Think about our unfinished mission! Hold on!"

Often, once a wounded person falls asleep, they never wake up.

Faisal's injuries were severe. Muhammad knew he couldn't do much. He could use a bayonet to remove the shrapnel and perform surgery on himself, but he couldn't do the same for Faisal.

Faisal had four pieces of shrapnel in his back, one of which was dangerously close to a major artery. Muhammad didn't have the confidence to remove it, and the wounds needed cleaning and stitching, which he couldn't do at the moment.

The top priority was to find a doctor, a surgeon! Muhammad's mind was racing, where could he find a doctor for Faisal?

In the mountainous regions of Afghanistan, there were no doctors in the small villages. They would have to go to larger towns. The larger towns in the Panjshir Valley were Rukha, Astana, and Zenia. Rukha was the largest and the Soviet command center. They had just attacked the command center, and the defenses were very tight. They couldn't risk it again. They would have to try Astana and Zenia.

The closest town was Astana. They would go to Astana!

"Faisal, hold on, I will save you." Muhammad said.

"No need, Sir, I am going to meet the great Lord. I will watch you continue to fight the Soviets until they are driven away. Don't take any more risks for me." Faisal said.

"No, we won't abandon any comrade." Muhammad said, "If you survive, you can fight more Soviets."

The mountain path was rugged. After walking through a narrow path, the guerrillas arrived at a cave.

This was a former guerrilla base, with open surroundings, easy to defend and hard to attack. From here, they could move freely.

Laying Faisal on the ground, his face was even paler, and blood continued to flow despite the simple bandages.

Muhammad's expression was serious. Finding a doctor for Faisal was urgent.

"Khwaja, Osama, come with me. The rest, stay here." Muhammad said calmly.

"Sir, where are you going?" Faisal asked weakly.

"To find a doctor." Muhammad said, "You won't die." (To be continued...)

Chapter 98: Firing at the Helicopter:

... (To be continued...)