Chapter Thirty: Disarming with Bare Hands (Seeking Recommendations, Clicks, and Bookmarks)

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  "Bang." In the moment of retreat, Muhammad already had a pistol in his hand. The sound of gunfire rang out. A sturdy Soviet soldier looked at the hole in his chest and let out an unwilling roar, then continued to pounce on Muhammad.

  "Bang." Another shot, right in the middle of his opponent's brow. The Soviet soldier's head shook, and his body followed with a tremor, falling to the ground half a meter away from Muhammad, his eyes never closing.

  Muhammad didn't go to see him, bayonet fighting is a last resort, in modern warfare, this kind of face-to-face combat has become very rare, even handguns are rarely used, the basic principle of combat is that you must have an assault rifle, if you only have a handgun, then you have to rely on the cover of the handgun to find an assault rifle.

  Muhammad bent down to pick up the AK-74 rifle on the ground, his own gun had jammed, otherwise, this bayonet fight wouldn't have happened.

  Mohammad had just bent down when Duranni's loud shout came from nearby: "Sir, watch out!"

  Muhammad's body flashed quickly to the side, and behind him a rifle butt came crashing down, which would have struck Muhammad in the back if Duranni hadn't warned him.

  Although it can't compare to a large hammer, the impact of the gunstock on the body is still enormous, capable of damaging internal organs and causing someone to spit out blood instantly, losing their combat effectiveness.

  Muhammad flipped over, rolled over, and followed suit, raising his handgun to shoot at the opponent.

  Before he could pull the trigger, the rifle butt swung past again, sweeping across Muhammad's wrist, and the pistol was knocked to the ground.

  A sharp pain shot through his wrist, Muhammad looked up at the opponent who had reversed the gun, and then the muzzle was pointing at himself.

  In an instant, a fierce glint flashed in Muhammad's eyes as he grabbed the opponent's gun barrel with both hands and violently pushed it upwards.

  "Bang, bang, bang." The other side had already pulled the trigger, and the bullets flew out of the barrel. At this time, Muhammad had pushed the muzzle towards the sky, and all three bullets were shot into the air.

  A hot flow on the barrel, Muhammad felt his hands were about to be scorched, his hands went down and grabbed onto the opponent's gun stock, the gun swung over.

  Disarm with bare hands! Although there was professional disarmament training during training, when it came to actual combat, this was still a gamble with the god of death. Whether various tactical movements would work depended on the skills and physical strength of both sides.

  The guy opposite him was a head taller than Muhammad, with thick arms. Now both were holding their guns horizontally and tugging at each other. The opponent's strength clearly exceeded Muhammad's. As he held the gun tightly in both hands, the opponent raised one foot to kick towards Muhammad's lower body.

  The warrior's physique was robust, and if it weren't for the dimensional crossing, Muhammad might have tried to go head-to-head with his opponent. Now, however, this body clearly wasn't up to par, so Muhammad could only change tactics.

  The gun, the opponent will definitely not let go, Muhammad's two legs exerted force, his hands grasped the gun, and his body suddenly soared into the air.

  The Soviet soldier's leg kicked out into empty space, and by the time he felt a fleeting shadow in front of him, it had already vanished.

  Muhammad somersaulted in the air and landed behind his opponent. His left hand grasped the opponent's chin, while his right hand supported the back of the head. With a swift motion, he pulled both hands apart, producing a crisp cracking sound from the enemy's neck. The Soviet man's head then drooped down.

  He took down the guy, Muhammad swiftly handled the AK-74 rifle of this guy, looking around, a dozen Soviets had escaped, and the guerrilla fighters beside him were fighting with the remaining Soviets.

  "Rat-a-tat." Muhammad held the gun and started firing, shooting one by one, killing off the struggling Soviets.

  "Sir, let's go after them." Having been choked by a Soviet soldier and nearly strangled to death, he was luckily rescued by Muhammad. Khwaja stood up, holding his sniper rifle, and said to Muhammad.

  "Quickly withdraw, don't chase," Muhammad said.

  The hand-to-hand combat was too intense, and everyone was so focused on the fight that they didn't even notice their surroundings. The only thing they could do was take down the person in front of them before thinking about anything else. This kind of battle was also the most brutal. They took out nine Soviets, but lost four of their own men.

  Fighting means killing people, especially in the Afghan war, where the losses of the guerrilla forces far exceeded those of the Soviets. The side with inferior equipment can only fill this gap with human lives.

  The battle is cruel.

  It's not that Muhammad doesn't want to chase, it's just that there is no more time.

  A rumbling sound came from the distant sky, and the doe returned flying again.

  Slovich sat on the ground, panting heavily, this encounter battle was a mess, when hand-to-hand combat, Slovich still wanted to charge forward bravely, but when he heard the sound of the long neck being twisted and broken, his heart suddenly felt a wave of fear, he finally realized that courage and brutality were two different things, when he ordered the tank to crush the corpses, when he let the tank cannon fire, those were brutalities, not courage.

  Although the combat quality of Soviet soldiers far exceeded that of Afghan guerrillas, this kind of close combat was also their first experience. Those guerrilla fighters seemed to have turned into beasts, and the momentum they emitted made him feel shocked.

  As he watched the helicopter flying overhead, he felt an indescribable sense of relief all over his body. It's finally over, let the helicopter take care of them!

  The sounds of battle outside gradually subsided. Next to two abandoned infantry fighting vehicles, Saha's heart remained uneasy.

  That huge explosion, was it tank fire or helicopter bombing? Have they found the guerrillas? Did they wipe them all out?

  The Soviets have arrived in large numbers, along with the government army. It would be easy to wipe out a few guerrilla groups and then relax. Sakha kept reassuring himself that the guerrillas had already been eliminated and he was safe long ago. The Soviets wouldn't abandon him, after all, they needed to rely on Afghans themselves if they wanted to establish a foothold in Afghanistan.

  Saha stood up and sat down again, with sweat constantly flowing from his forehead. He wiped the sweat with the back of his hand, gazing into the distance.

  The sun gradually fell to the west, a day had passed, and it was about to enter the evening. By nightfall, our side would be more likely to be ambushed.

  With just over a dozen people, after one night, by the next day, not a single one will be left.

  Can't wait any longer, if it's evening and there's still no order coming over, might as well just run away, being alive is more important than anything.

  Just as Sa Ha was thinking this way, he heard a rumbling sound in the distance. He looked up to see an infantry fighting vehicle approaching.

  The Soviet people came, and Sa Ha's face suddenly changed into a smile, and he went up to greet them.

  "Sahar, line up, bring your people on board." A head poked out of the turret of an armored vehicle, shouting at Sahar.

  "Yes." Saha ran over hastily and climbed up through the hatch at the rear of the infantry fighting vehicle.

  "The sweep operation is over, return to Jalalabad." said the Soviet man in the car.

  "Yes." Saha nodded in the cramped vehicle, when suddenly there was a loud "boom" and the armored car shook.

  Saha suddenly fell prone and hugged his head: "Save me!"

  The Soviets burst out laughing as they had just fired a shot and destroyed that abandoned infantry fighting vehicle.

  "Boom," another shot, the second infantry fighting vehicle was also destroyed. Looking at the thick smoke rising from the two vehicles, the Soviets drove their infantry fighting vehicle and left here.

  Saha stood up again, as if nothing had happened. This infantry fighting vehicle with thin skin would be pierced by a heavy machine gun bullet, let alone a shell.

  The battle has ended, and their sweep this time ended in failure. All the tanks were blown up, several infantry fighting vehicles were lost, and more than a hundred people were killed or wounded. More than 50 Soviet soldiers were killed and over 30 were injured.

  There was no heavy equipment, only two companies of cars, which were still intact. The mighty procession that set out had vanished, and these great mountains seemed to be able to open their huge mouths and swallow them up.

  Slovik also recalled a dozen or so Afghan government soldiers he had dispatched a infantry fighting vehicle to pick up, who were to rendezvous with them in the mountains ahead.

  Sitting on the rumbling infantry fighting vehicle, Sa Ha finally felt at ease. These two days had been really nerve-wracking. At this moment, what he was thinking about in his mind was that woman in the Jalalabad base, or the warmth of home.

  Night falls, gradually descending.

  The armored vehicle continued to move forward without turning on its headlights, and the driver was driving carefully through the simple infrared night vision device.

  Everyone in the car was drowsy and about to fall asleep.

  Although we have not yet left the mountainous area, now that we are on our way home, many people's vigilance has decreased.

  The driver also yawned, after passing the most dangerous cliff road just now, he relaxed and stepped on the accelerator, speeding up.

  Suddenly, a few people in front of him swayed and he instinctively moved his foot onto the brake.

  "Screech... screech... screech." A sharp whine came from the rear of the vehicle, and the armored car quickly came to a stop.

  The people in the back were unsteady on their feet, several of them fell off their seats and hit the steel plate, cracking their heads.

  "What's going on?" asked the Soviet squad leader from the turret, his eyes fixed on the sight.

  "There are several government soldiers." said the driver in front.

  On the side of the road, those soldiers wearing government army uniforms were standing there, without helmets but with headscarves, and their thick beards on their faces were very dense. From their attire, they were absolutely government army soldiers. Moreover, they stood there waving at people in a carefree manner, without any guard.

  But how did they appear?

  "Turn on the big light." The class leader said, opening the turret and looking at the government soldiers who were covering their eyes with their arms due to the glare of the light. He shouted: "Which unit are you from? What are you doing here?"