Chapter 62: Mountain Chicken

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  Lian Chang Jil Kuo stood on the snowy ground, holding a sturdy cylindrical object in his hand, opening it and observing in all directions.

  This is a night vision device, good stuff for night battles, expensive to manufacture, rarely equipped with individual soldiers, only reconnaissance units are equipped with this one, with this thing, at night, you can observe hidden enemies.

  Although it had been confirmed that this place was safe, Gilgamesh still looked around in a circle, and there were no ambushes on the surrounding mountains.

  The snow was still falling, the cold wind was biting, wearing close-fitting military coats, everyone's face was frozen bright red.

  Jill Katchang looked down at the ground, the snow would soon cover up the footprints left in front of her, now she had to continue the pursuit.

  Jill Quigley made a gesture and the whole team followed her, chasing after them through the endless snowy valley.

  Their uniforms were all white, in such a place, even if they were only separated by hundreds of meters, they couldn't be seen clearly, and they completely blended in with the snowy ground around them.

  When the sun rises again, the heavy snow finally stops, but the temperature continues to drop. The cold wind blows the snowflakes, and a few meters away, people can't be seen clearly.

  In this case, even the most cold-resistant Eskimos would choose to stay in the house and warm themselves by burning wood.

  All around was a deep silence, except for the whistling of the wind, and the two teams almost a thousand meters apart.

  Gilkocha's men had caught up, and if he gave the order now, he could ensure that the entire transport detachment was destroyed, killing those Afghan guerrillas. But he didn't give the order.

  These people are not his prey; he wants to follow this transport team and find the guerrilla's base by following the vine.

  It was a long process, they were like a pack of hungry wolves on the prairie, quietly stalking their prey.

  "How much farther, Khwaja?" James asked, riding on horseback.

  "In two more days," Khwaja said. "Once we cross the mountain in front of us, we should head south. The mountain roads are not easy to walk on, especially after snowfall. The roads between mountains are much more slippery than the canyons here."

  When I came, it was on horseback and took a whole day, but now I'm carrying things, almost at the same speed as walking.

  James pulled out a flask from behind his back, which he had filled with high-proof brandy on the way.

  James raised his head and wanted to take a sip, only to find that the wine in the wine jug had all been frozen solid.

  "No," said James, "I'll make a fire."

  "Mr. James, the bonfire will expose our target." Khwaja said, this American really doesn't get it, thinking that just because it's winter now, we're completely safe?

  Khawaja had just finished speaking when he saw James pull out a gun from behind his back, release the safety catch and pull the trigger.

  "Bang." A bullet flew out of the barrel, and in the silent valley, the gunshot echoed far away.

  At this moment, Khwaja was shocked. This American guy didn't reveal all of his own whereabouts, he wasn't willing to give up.

  "Ride!" James ignored Khwaja, slapped his horse's rump and galloped forward.

  A pheasant flapped its wings trying to take off, and on the snowy ground, a red mark was left behind.

  James jumped off his horse and grabbed the pheasant, it was cold and the pheasant hadn't eaten much so it wasn't very fat, but after eating dry rations for over a dozen days, having this pheasant to eat was just great.

  James took off the steel helmet he had been carrying on his back and put on a woolen hat, although it was cold. He still carried the steel helmet on his back to guard against surprise attacks, which came in handy at this moment.

  Turn the steel helmet over, fill it with snow, prop it up, and boil it. First remove the chicken feathers!

  Watching James fiddle with excitement, Khwaja felt a burning fire in his chest. This guy, if he were one of his own guerrilla fighters, Khwaja would have already slapped him with the back of his hand.

  James had no other thoughts, he was just too tired. The hardships along the way made him feel that he needed to reward himself. There happened to be a wild chicken, which he plucked and roasted to eat, then drank some liquor, suddenly making him feel how wonderful life is!

  As for the Soviets, it's so cold here, where would there be Soviets! The Soviets must all be hiding in big cities.

  When escorting Pakistanis, James was very cautious, but now that the guerrillas have arrived to take over, James has completed his mission. He is now under no pressure at all.

  "Lord James, we must press on," Khwaja said. "I'll leave one man with you to escort you back to base."

  Khawaja won't wait for James to have a barbecue here, it's dangerous until he gets back to base.

  "Don't wait for me," James said. "You go ahead and I'll catch up with you after I've eaten. I'll be right behind you."

  Khawaja had brought a dozen or so men with him, and was leading several tens of mules; he didn't have enough hands to begin with, and now left James one, only out of consideration for his friend.

  Now James said no again, so Khwaja led the transport team with a smile at the corner of his mouth and continued on their way.

  Khawaja saw through James' thoughts at a glance. This guy, having shot and roasted a mountain chicken, had just enough for one person to eat. If he left a guerrilla fighter behind, he would have to share half with the guerrilla fighter, which he was unwilling to do.

  This American... Khwaja was speechless. Anyway, this guy has a horse and once he's eaten his fill and drunk enough, he'll catch up.

  The transport squad moved out, leaving James standing in the middle of the road, smugly watching as the snow in his helmet melted, steamed, and then he put the pheasant inside, just right.

  Shedding his chicken feathers, wearing a studded knife, James started his own barbecue. He didn't know that his stay would make some people behind him suffer.

  Jill Korchagin crouched in the snow, looking at the guy in the distance with binoculars, frowning non-stop.

  Just now, the Afghan in front of him fired a shot, which suddenly startled Gilko Chakim. The men under his command immediately opened the safety of their guns, fortunately without firing.

  He just realized that it was one of them who shot and killed a pheasant!

  He was also a young and inexperienced guy, transporting these weapons, what a top-secret mission, yet he shot and killed a wild chicken! Are these guerrillas really that hungry?

  James was dressed in thick clothing, only his face exposed, and several days' growth of beard had turned into a long mustache, which made Gil Kozlovsky, who was behind him, not realize that this guy was originally an American.

  Gill Katcha Gold took his men and hid behind, waiting like this until the transport detachment disappeared from view.

  Chased for one night and half a day, all in vain.

  Could it be that our whereabouts have been leaked, and this guy is here to intercept us? Doesn't seem like it at all. Looking at how he's gathering firewood, starting a fire, boiling water, and scalding his hair, turns out he's a complete foodie.

  Jill Ke looked at the guy in the distance with a stern expression, this mountain valley was like a narrow pass that could be defended by one man against ten thousand, and this guy was blocking their way forward.

  Both sides were cliffs, and going around would mean climbing the cliff? Gilgamesh shook his head, it was too dangerous, especially after the snowfall, and last night's severe cold, under the thick snow, there was black ice everywhere, making it impossible to climb up.

  Kryshevich made a throat-slashing gesture to Gil Kozlovsky, indicating that it was time to take him down.

  Now, that guy is intently barbecuing, sneaking up close to him and taking him out would be easy, the entire reconnaissance platoon is dressed in white, even their guns are white, on snowy ground, they won't be discovered.

  However, this guy is obviously a big shot in the guerrilla team. Otherwise, he wouldn't be riding alone on horseback and eating alone here. It's easy for our side to take him down, but after taking him down, it's possible that the guerrilla team ahead will become suspicious.

  After discovering that the people behind them were gone, the guerrilla team would know that there was a follower behind them. Once they found their base, it wouldn't be easy to deal with these guerrillas, as each of them had a very strong backbone. Even if a prisoner was captured and interrogated to death, they still wouldn't reveal the secrets of the guerrilla team.

  Gill Kozak shook his head vigorously, so Krzyszewicz had no choice but to give up.

  James, who was busy barbecuing, didn't know that he had just walked through the gates of hell. He concentrated on his barbecue, as grilling mountain chicken was a skillful task. If it was overcooked, it would be tough and not tasty; if the heat wasn't enough, it would be raw.

  When he saw the grease dripping from the pheasant, James could no longer bear it, tore off a piece of meat with his hands and started eating.

  He took a few bites and then had another swig of wine; James was eating with great relish.

  The smell of roasted mountain chicken wafted with the wind and reached the back, where the entire Soviet soldier squad was constantly swallowing their saliva.

  Watching the guy in front of him devouring his food, Krzyszewicz made a gesture to Gil Kozlov again, he applied to go and take out that guy, then...then eat the remaining chicken meat he roasted, even if it's bones, can be chewed away.

  At this time, the sun had already moved to the west and lasted for two hours.

  At last, Gilgamesh nodded slightly, unable to wait any longer. The more time dragged on, the farther away the vanguard of the guerrilla troops would run. Who knows, maybe this guy was intentionally blocking their way and hindering their pursuit.

  Seeing Gil Kozlov nodding, Krzyszewicz drew a dagger from behind his back, grasped it in his hand and slowly crawled out of the snow cave.

  This is not an ordinary dagger, it's the NRS-2 dagger pistol equipped by Soviet special forces, a product combining a dagger and a silent gun, the handle of this dagger can shoot 7.62mm special bullets, killing silently.

  Damn Afghans! Krieger cursed to himself as he slowly crawled forward, getting closer and closer to James.

  At this time, James was eating with relish, his appetite greatly increased.