Chapter One Hundred: Rescue Harid

  "You've got the wrong man." The big beard said to the other side: "My name is not Harid, my name is Musaf, I am from Kandahar."

  "Hmm, Harid, save those words for Kabul. The lead sergeant said, picking up the medical box beside him and pulling out a pistol from its hidden compartment: "Kandahar? What's with this gun?"

  The big bearded man's face changed instantly, wanting to resist, his two arms were already pressed down by the Soviet soldiers. Another soldier came up and hit the big bearded man's back with the butt of his gun, causing him to feel a sharp pain in his lower back. A stream of blood suddenly spurted out of his mouth.

  "Hurry up!" said the class monitor.

  The big beard was pushed out of the room and onto a car.

  It was a smooth capture, the squad leader came out of the house and walked towards the car, but saw several Afghan residents slowly gathering around.

  "They've taken away Dr Musafir!" an Afghan resident shouted.

  "What did Dr Musafer do wrong? Why should he be arrested?" shouted another Afghan resident.

  "Release Dr. Musharraf!" another voice shouted.

  The crowd slowly gathered around.

  The Soviet Union could only control the major cities of Afghanistan, while remote areas like Panjshir remained untouched. In the past, when residents of Astana fell ill, they would often rely on self-medication and only seek medical help from elsewhere as a last resort. When Dr. Musharraf arrived, he helped them with their ailments for minimal consultation fees, earning their gratitude. Now, seeing the Soviet soldiers arrest Dr. Musharraf, the locals, who already harbored some resentment towards the Soviets, spontaneously stood in front of the truck and shouted at the Soviet troops.

  "He is our prisoner, escaped from Kabul hospital." The Soviet sergeant shouted: "You immediately let go, otherwise you are an accomplice of the traitor!"

  The Soviet squad leader gazed out at the increasing number of residents ahead, feeling a growing sense of unease in his heart.

  "Dr. Mushtaq is not a culprit, let him go!" someone shouted loudly in the crowd.

  Then others also shouted together: "Dr. Musharraf is not a criminal, release him!"

  Harry's eyes were a little moist, these villagers were very sincere, and he had established a deep bond with them in just a few months. Now, they were standing here to support him at the risk of being shot by the Soviets.

  "If you don't let us through, we'll be a guerrilla squad!" the Soviet sergeant shouted, raising his RPK machine gun and firing into the air.

  "Rat-a-tat-tat..." The sound of gunfire rang out, and the Soviet squad leader hoped that the shots would scare off the residents here. But unexpectedly, these residents not only did not retreat but instead cast fierce glances at him.

  "Shoo away, Soviet devils, get out of Afghanistan!" Another voice suddenly rang out.

  Upon hearing this voice, the Soviet class leader's face changed instantly. He looked at the crowd, wanting to find out who was shouting like that.

  "Shoo away, Soviet devils! Get out of Afghanistan!" More and more people joined in the shouting.

  "Drive!" the Soviet squad leader shouted, sticking his head out of the driver's cabin, gun pointed forward. Whoever dared to block again would be run over! Whoever dared to shout again would be shot dead!

  "Vroom, vroom." The driver stepped on the gas pedal and the off-road vehicle roared a few times before speeding forward.

  The crowd suddenly dispersed, clearing a path. The Soviet squad leader seemed somewhat pleased with himself; these Afghans were still afraid to die.

  The vehicle continued to move forward and had not gone five meters when it suddenly started tilting.

  The monitor looked back and saw countless Afghans gathered on one side of the truck, running alongside it while stretching out their hands to lift up one side of the truck, amazingly lifting the truck up with brute force.

  Terrible!

  After one side is lifted up, the driver steps on the accelerator again. Only the wheels on this side are spinning in the air, while the other side's tires have stopped moving.

  "One, two, three!" The Afghans shouted slogans, more people joined in, and with sheer manpower, they lifted this several-ton truck, higher and higher, the momentum was to overturn the truck.

  The Soviet squad leader suddenly became anxious, sticking half of his body out of the driver's cabin, holding an RPK machine gun, ready to sweep across the crowd lifting the car, these people are now completely rioting and must be suppressed!

  "Bang." Just as the Soviet squad leader was about to pull the trigger, a crisp sound came from afar, and his head appeared with a blood hole, and his body leaned against the car door.

  The driver on the other side was suddenly shocked, wanting to pick up the AK-74 rifle next to him, and another bullet flew in, his hand went limp and fell on the steering wheel.

  "Boom." The truck was pushed ninety degrees, overturned on the spot, and the cargo box behind it had a canopy. From behind the canvas top, several Soviet soldiers crawled out, still dizzy from the sudden overturning.

  They had just come out when the guns slung over their shoulders were snatched away, and then they felt countless fists pummeling their bodies, bare feet kicking them, and they couldn't help but cover their heads, wailing loudly.

  "Dr. Harid!" Two Afghans supported Mushaf from inside and took him out, leaving behind a chaotic scene, emerging from the crowd and heading deep into the streets of Astana.

  "What kind of people are you?" Dr. Harid asked.

  "We are a guerrilla team, here to pick you up." Muhamed said: "We have one guerrilla fighter who was seriously injured and needs surgery urgently."

  Everything just now was arranged by Muhammad. When Muhammad found the Soviet military vehicle parked at the door, he knew something was wrong.

  If they had opened fire immediately, it was possible that not only would Harid not be rescued, but the Soviets might also kill him in the crossfire. So Muhammad mobilized the crowd instead.

  The power of the masses is boundless, and in this case, the Soviets did not dare to carry out a large-scale massacre. Muhammad shouted among the crowd, guiding them to confront the Soviet military vehicles. Harid was already loved by the people here, and now that they saw Harid being taken away, the people immediately became enraged.

  At the same time, Mohammad had Khwaja lie in ambush at a distance, and as soon as the Soviets made any movement, he would accurately snipe them.

  Now, Harry has been successfully rescued.

  "Where?" Harid asked immediately after hearing Muhammad's words.

  Harid had long wanted to join the mujahideen to help them. In Kabul, he was an intern doctor who witnessed Soviet atrocities and was deeply dissatisfied with the Soviet invasion of his country. However, as a doctor, he could not take up arms to fight. After contacting Hezb-e-Noor, he decided to come to the mountains here to help the mujahideen.

  That first-aid kit was snatched by Osama and put on his back when they just saved Harid, now that Harid has been rescued, they are waiting to rush back and rescue Fakhim.

  "In the mountains to the north," Muhammad said. "We have to hurry, he's been hit by a dozen bullets, he won't last much longer."

  "Good." Harry said, his heart was excited, finally saw the guerrilla, when he was just caught by the Soviet Union, he even thought that he could not achieve his ideals again.

  The three had just run a few steps when they saw two soldiers in brown government army uniforms appear at the street corner.

  Damn it! Muhammad raised his gun in an instant, this is the only way to go, must pass here, narrow road meet, brave win!

  "Don't shoot." At this time, Osama on the side hastily said: "They are people from the service camp."

  These two government soldiers did not appear here by chance, they came specifically to wait for Osama.

  As soon as the two appeared, they saw Muhammad raise his gun and were shocked in their hearts. If Muhammad fired at them, he would be mistaken.

  Fortunately, Muhammad heard Osama's words and immediately put down his gun. To Osama, Muhammad was still very trusting, and the two men in front of him had no hostility at all.

  "Abdul, Farabi," Osama shouted at the two men.

  "It's great to see you." The two said to Osama with a smile.

  Abd held a box in his hand and said: "There are some medicines inside, I hope Dr. Harid can use them."

  "It's quite safe ahead, everyone has gone to maintain the riotous order," Farabi said.

  "This is Mr. Muhammad, he's a hero who fought against the Soviets, and I follow him." Osama proudly introduced to the two men.

  "Mr. Muhammad, we have great respect for your name, if it weren't for serving the camp, we would also follow you to kill the Soviets," Abdu said.

  There were even people from the government army serving in it, and Muhammad recalled that under Osama's sponsorship, Dana had already established an intelligence agency in Jalalabad, while Osama's own service camp also changed its role and possessed the capabilities of an intelligence agency.

  "We must ensure the safety of our residents." Muhammad said to the two. The riot was started by Muhammad, those were innocent civilians, cannot let the Soviets harm them.

  "Don't worry, most of the government troops only listen to half of the Soviet orders. Many of them are from here and won't kill their own people," Abdu said: "We're now doing ideological work to try to get this government troop to rise up."

  Muhammad's face lit up with a smile: "Allah guides them on the right path."

  Time was pressing, so they hastily said a few words and Khwaja followed behind, running out of the Astana village together.

  PS: ?? PS: Thanks for the reward from yesterday's feeling, two more chapters added!

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