Chapter 6: Strange Thunder

  What's the big deal? Didn't we just say that retreating was the most important thing? As the leader of this guerrilla team, Hevaj had always been in charge of making decisions on his own, and he really couldn't think of anything more important.

  "Take all the grenades out of the tank and take them away." Muhamed said: "Quickly, note that only high-explosive shells, armor-piercing shells and sub-caliber projectiles are not used."

  "Carrying tank shells? Khwaja was also puzzled: "Sir, we can't even move the tank cannon, what do we need those shells for?"

  "It's natural, you'll know when you get back," Muhammad said, and in a few steps he had already run into the tank that had overturned due to rolling over large rocks. This was the only intact tank, while the other one, even if there hadn't been an explosion, was not touchable from the inside.

  The tank's hatch was open, and Muhammad was very familiar with this tank. Although the tank's posture was not suitable now, he still shrunk his body and drilled into the hatch on the turret.

  The ammunition base of the Type 62 tank is forty rounds, generally only seventeen high-explosive shells are equipped, and with just enough used, it's good to have fifteen rounds.

  Muhammad thought so, and pulled out a shell from the front ammunition box.

  Not bad, it's a grenade!

  "Next!" Muhammad handed over this grenade from the turret hatch.

  Outside, Durrani had already continued there.

  Khawaja shook his head at the sight of the two men's busy work and signaled to several guerrilla fighters, who followed him, carrying the shells that Duranni had brought out.

  What's the use of this shell if there isn't a cannon?

  Although they thought so, they still carried on.

  The shell is very heavy and can carry at most one.

  Inside the turret, however, shells were being continuously handed out.

  Inside, Muhammad was beaming with joy, he really did make a profit.

  Inside this tank, there were actually thirty grenades! Thirty of them!

  Muhammad pulled out one, just a smile, and then pulled out another, also a smile, until the last few were pointed armor-piercing bullets. He had figured it out - in Afghanistan, guerrilla fighters didn't have heavy weapons, let alone tanks, so even if they had armor-piercing bullets, there was no use for them. Grenades were more practical, with a longer range and greater power.

  These grenades are even more useful for oneself!

  Muhammad emerged from the tank turret with a smile, seeing the guerrilla fighters around him, each with a bitter face, carrying their own weapons and an additional grenade, very reluctantly.

  "What shall we do with these two captives?" a guerrilla fighter asked.

  He was originally supposed to escort the prisoners, but now he also carried a grenade. Almost all the guerrillas were carrying what they thought were useless tank shells.

  Khawaja looked at these two Soviets, they, operating iron machines, stepped onto the land of Afghanistan, they are invaders!

  They are evil in every way, using tanks to crush Afghans, these people are butchers!

  Now, since we can't take them away, let's just settle it on the spot!

  At this thought, a murderous aura appeared in Khwaja's eyes.

  These two tank soldiers escaped from the overturned tank. The tank has been abandoned and they can only wait for death there.

  However, by the time they crawled out, those guerrillas had approached, two tank soldiers were shot dead, and if they didn't surrender, they would have been killed.

  The eyes of these two were filled with fear. They had come to Afghanistan, although they couldn't speak the language, but more or less, they could understand some Pashto.

  Moreover, in this case, even if language is not understood, something can be seen from the other's eyes.

  "We are the armored soldiers of the 117th Regiment, 108th Division, 40th Army. Now we have become prisoners of war and request to be treated in accordance with the Geneva Convention!" One of the Soviet tankmen prisoners spoke up boldly to the people in front of him.

  "What are you talking about?" Hevajie asked with a smile on his face, while pulling out a military knife from his hand.

  Although using bullets is more efficient, Khwaja often prefers to use a military knife, feeling the thrill of stabbing it into his opponent's body. Before his eyes, he sees his compatriots falling under Soviet tanks.

  Khawaja's hand rose high, the blade flashing brightly, just about to fall.

  "Wait!" Muhammad said.

  What's with all this waiting? Khwaja looked at Muhammad beside him, and by now he was starting to dislike this man who was so good at fighting.

  It's like there's already a beautiful woman in front of you, your own has been raised high, just about to thrust in and harm, but the director shouts cut. Watching Japanese movies is so cool, who can understand how much endurance the Japanese male actors have?

  "They just told us to abide by the Geneva Convention," Muhammad said.

  "What crap about a public pact? I only know that these people are our enemies and they all deserve to die!" Khwaja said.

  Dulani on the side was also very curious about this instructor, really couldn't guess what he was thinking.

  "No, these people should certainly die, but they shouldn't die at our hands." Muhhamed said: "Captain Khwaja, can you hand over these two to me?"

  Hand them over to you? Can you handle it? Khwaja didn't believe that one person could escort two captives, and if things went wrong, the captives might get away.

  But then I thought of what Muhamed said, that these people shouldn't die at our hands. What does this mean? Moreover, these captives were originally also escaping from the destroyed tank, if not for Muhamed, our side wouldn't have captured them either.

  Khawaja said, "Alright, I'll leave it up to you."

  "Take these two men first and put them here. I also need you to dispatch a few team members to follow me to set up." Muhamed said.

  What are they setting up? Khwaja suddenly became interested and shouted at the two men, following Muhammad himself as he walked over.

  The speed was very fast, and in almost just ten minutes, Khwaja came again, only this time with a smile all over his face, as if he had already seen some delightful scene.

  "Take them back to the past." Khwaja pointed at two Soviet captives.

  The two Soviet prisoners, looking at each other in dismay, were anxious in their hearts. They followed with one foot deep and the other shallow, waiting for them was an unknown fate.

  Right next to their flipped-over tank, Mhamaad was there, waving at them.

  "Come on, come here!" Muhammad said in fluent Russian: "You just stay here and wait for the people who will pick you up."

  In this world, Muhammad doesn't speak Russian. However, the Muhammad who crossed over has all of Xue Dong's memories. In his previous life as Xue Dong, he sometimes participated in joint exercises with the Russian army and needed to be familiar with many imported Russian equipment, so he also learned Russian. Apart from Russian, he is also fluent in English and Chinese.

  How can someone be so kind? It's impossible just thinking about it. The two of them thought that the Afghan in front of them must have ulterior motives.

  "Come, sit down!" Muhammad said.

  Two captives didn't have time to react before Khwaja's powerful arms pressed them down into their seats.

  And as they sat, Muhammad, who was beside them, seemed to have quickly moved under their buttocks.

  Then, I sat down on the ground, but except for the land, it seemed to feel something strange on my buttocks. It must have been that person who quickly stuffed it under his own buttocks just now.

  It's like an iron lump with a piece of iron on top, it's so hard that my butt hurts, I'd better move it to another position.

  "Don't move, you're sitting on a pressure-activated landmine. One wrong move and you'll be blown to smithereens," Muhammad said with a hint of mockery.

  Under the butt, sat a pressure-activated landmine? Upon hearing Muhammad's words, it was as if they had suddenly sat on a red-hot iron plate. The two of them reflexively wanted to get up.

  However, the two men's buttocks had not left the iron plate when they were pressed down hard by Muhammad and Khwaja.

  If you want to die, wait until we leave before lifting your butt.

  It wasn't until two men pressed down on them that these two captives came to their senses, and beads of sweat immediately broke out on their faces.

  "I wish you two a pleasant stay here! Your reinforcements will arrive soon." Muhammad waved his hand at the two with a smile, then followed Khwaja's guerrilla team and walked quickly away.

  Although those two captives were not tied up with ropes and were not injured, did they dare to move?

  Muhammad really wanted to see a good show, but unfortunately, he had to leave. With the strength of this guerrilla team, it was okay to ambush a lone Soviet person, but if they encountered Soviet reinforcements again, they would be the ones to suffer losses.

  Watching these people disappear, the two captives' hearts were trembling. More than an hour had passed before one of them finally spoke up: "Hey, Markov, do you think what we're sitting on is a pressure-activated landmine?"

  "What do you think?" By now both had calmed down a bit, Markov asked: "Ilyich, you used to serve in the infantry, you should be familiar with this kind of mine."

  "I think what we're sitting on isn't a landmine," Ilich said. "Those guerrillas don't even have enough bullets, where would they get something like a landmine?"

  "What is it?" Markov asked.

  "I think it's like a hand grenade, not bad, just a hand grenade!" Ilich gritted his teeth and said, recalling the moment when he was forcibly pressed down, another guy sneaked under his butt and made a move, actually pulling out the safety pin of the hand grenade and letting him sit on it.

  Not bad, that's it! Just trying to scare myself!

  "Grenade? So we lift our butts up and then throw the grenade out again, is that it?" Markov asked.

  "Our people have arrived." Just then, Ilich heard a distant rumbling sound.

  Thanks for the rewards from three good friends, Hei Yi Xiao Bai, Qiu Feng Qi Ye Luo and Shao Si Xiong Mao!