Chapter Nineteen: Distant Friends

  Dulani pulled out the sharp military knife from his side, which was captured from a Soviet tank soldier last time. After pulling it out, it still showed a cold light, as if it had seen human blood before.

  "Bang!" Along with the sound, this can was cut open by Duranni using a military knife, and then, with a flick of his wrist, he opened the lid of the can.

  The smell was very fragrant, Dulaney brought the can to his eyes, using the starlight, and used a military knife to pick at the inside of the can. He first picked out a piece of meat and took a bite.

  Who would have thought that with a glance of the eyes, his hand shook and almost dropped all the canned goods to the ground.

  Is this canned? How is it like that legendary Pandora's box? Duranni looked at the big fish head, and all the sharp teeth in the fish mouth. Can this thing be eaten?

  Take another look, in other people's cans, there are fish bodies that taste great when chewed, while some people, like him, are just a fish head.

  "Go ahead and eat. Don't look at the Soviet devils with contempt, but their canned food is not bad." Just then, a voice came from beside his ear.

  Dulani didn't need to raise his head to know it was Muhammad. Although he was very hungry, the fish head, especially those teeth, still made him a bit apprehensive. What if he went to take a bite and the fish head suddenly bit him back?

  Looking at Durrani's appearance, Muhammad handed over his own can to him, which contained two pieces of fat fish meat. He took Durrani's can and picked it up with a bayonet, then put it into his mouth.

  A whiff of pungent and slightly sweet flavor entered the mouth, but in later generations, although they also ate military canned food, it didn't have the same savor as now.

  Muhammad chewed hard on this fish head, most of the bones were chewable and eating these bones was better than eating meat, which could supplement more calcium.

  The Soviets also had their own way of making canned fish, which was full of wild flavor. They would chop up huge mackerel, complete with bones and tails, add a bunch of seasonings, cook it, and then stuff it into cans. Although the method was simple, the soldiers loved to eat it.

  Watching Muhammad eat with relish, Duranni's stomach growled with hunger, using a dagger to pick up the fish meat and devour it.

  Muhammad put down the can, at this time, even the juice inside had been drunk clean by Muhammad. Just then, he heard a faint sound of footsteps coming from afar.

  Muhammad's eyes were fixed on the mountain village road, and at this moment, two people came from there.

  Although Muhammad knew that the one who came should be a friend, he still put his hand on the AKM hanging behind him and could shoot at any time.

  "Coach, where is the coach?" a voice asked from the opposite side.

  When he heard this, Muhammad put down his hand, and the voice was that of Aga who had been sent out.

  "I'm here." Muhamed said as he strode over with big steps.

  At this time, Khwaja also walked up from the other side.

  "Commander, this is Masood, the elder of our village of Gostor. Elder, this is our commander from the guerrilla force, he has come from a friendly neighboring country," Agha said.

  "Masood elder, nice to see you." Muhammad said.

  Not every elder is old, with a white beard. This Masood looks like he's just over 40 years old, with thick and dense whiskers, in good spirits. He has wrapped a towel on his head, which is commonly seen here, and wears a long robe.

  "Honorable friend, welcome to Ghosht. At this time, those who have come to Afghanistan are the most sincere friends of the Afghan people. I represent Ghosht village and thank our Afghan friends for extending their great hands at this time." Masood said, placing his hand on his chest and bowing deeply, a gesture that was already quite high.

  At this moment, Muhammad was taken aback. It's just an ordinary meeting, why make it so grand?

  "Maulvi Masood, we all have the same faith and will not watch our brothers being subjected to rude and barbaric aggression. Not just us Pakistanis but the whole world is standing with our Afghan brothers today. I, Mohammad, promise here that I will not let the Soviet infidels be driven out, I, Mohammad, will never leave Afghanistan, will never leave these brothers of mine."

  Masood raised his head, looking at Muhammad. The man's gaze was so deep and sincere that Masood felt an urge to pick up a gun and follow this Pakistani brother to fight against the Soviet devils!

  "Thanks, brother Mohammad, I'm sure we'll drive the Soviet devils out," Masood said. "Today, it's an honor for our village of Gost to transport ammunition for our guerrilla forces. I've sent people from door to door to spread the news and soon someone will come to help us transport the ammunition. Moreover, I have informed several neighboring villages and within an hour they will arrive. Tonight, we'll help the guerrillas move all the ammunition into the mountains."

  Before arriving, Masood had already known through Aga and Hadim that this time the guerrillas drove the truck to the outside of the village and couldn't get in. They needed help from the guerrilla members to transport the things in the truck to the base in the mountains. So, Masood sent someone to inform while he came out to take a look.

  Masud is an elder, but not just the elder of Gostor village. An elder is a respected person in a tribe who has been elected by everyone.

  The nearby villages and Gostar village are all part of a tribe.

  But wanting to transport all the things in the truck, only the people from their village were not enough, after all, the ammunition boxes were very heavy, and one person carrying a box on the mountain road for tens of miles was also very laborious.

  So Masood was also found.

  "Thanks to Masood, the elder," Muhammad said. With this many people, they could easily move the truck's original cargo plus what they had looted from the outpost back.

  Masood smiled, this young man in front of him was very much to his liking.

  Just as they were speaking, a loud noise came from behind, and a large group of strong men, led by Hadim, had already arrived at the outskirts of the village.

  "Khadiim, you guys are amazing! You can even get a truck from the Soviets!" said a young man about Khadiim's age beside him.

  This young man and Hadem were childhood playmates, heard that they were going to move things, and immediately followed. Now, seeing Hadem's guerrilla team brought this truck, he was so envious that from an early age, he had only ridden a donkey cart and had never ridden such a powerful truck.

  "This truck is nothing, the other day we even destroyed a Soviet tank! Unfortunately, the tank was broken, otherwise I would have driven it over to show you." Haidam boasted in front of his playmates.

  "Captain Khwaja, you organize these villagers to move things from the truck," Muhammad said.

  "Good." Muhammad didn't hesitate and immediately agreed, then asked another question: "What about you?"

  "When everything on the car is moved out, I need to drive it to a secluded place and hide it first," Muhammad said.

  If the truck was left outside the village, then soon the Soviets would find it and at that time all the villagers would be implicated. Muhammad wouldn't do such a thing to implicate innocent civilians; he had to think carefully.

  Among these people, it seems that only he can drive a truck. So, although Muhammad wants to go back to the base to rest after fighting three battles in a row, Muhammad is still very spirited and knows he needs to rest. However, he still has to drive the truck to a place far away from the village to hide it.

  Actually, Khwaja asked Muhammad, who also had this intention. Upon hearing what Muhammad said, he felt at ease: "Alright, please be careful, Captain, and leave two team members to follow you."

  Khawaja directed the move and Muhammad took it easy.

  Masood elder looked at the villagers scrambling to unload things from the truck, a smile also appeared on his face, but after turning around, he couldn't help but stiffen his facial expression.

  "What about Sahar? Why didn't he come?" Masoud asked.

  Masud is familiar with everyone in the village. This time helping the guerrillas transport weapons is what people in the village should do. Saha was very active, why didn't he come this time?

  "Elder, Saha is ill," a villager said.

  Is he ill? No wonder. Masud finally put his mind at ease, saying to himself: "Saha is usually as strong as an ox, I didn't expect him to fall ill. I saw him just yesterday, and tomorrow I'll have to go see him."

  Masood was muttering to himself, but what he said happened to reach Muhammad's ears, and in an instant, Muhammad's heart sank.

  This villager named Saha, didn't come to help them transport the weapons and equipment. Muhamaad doesn't care about it, but this villager is so strong, now he's sick, and Masood also said that yesterday Saha was fine, now he's sick.

  This illness is a bit suspicious, no good, have to go take a look! At this time, Muhammad was completely relying on his intuition.

  "Masud the elder, this transportation of weapons will take another half hour to finish. While we have time, I'll accompany you to the village to see these Saha brothers," Muhammad said.

  Masood was a bit surprised to hear Muhammad say that: "Now it's so dark, if Sahar is sick and needs rest, brother Muhammad, I'm afraid it's not convenient."

  "Masood elder, when I was in Pakistan, I learned some medical skills. You know, some illnesses can't be delayed. I'll go take a look, if Sahar brother has an acute illness, we need to send him out for treatment immediately." Muhammad said: "Let's go, saving lives is urgent."