Chapter 63: Accidental Success

  The pistol's range was not high, and this gun was extremely difficult to aim at. It had to be close enough to have sufficient accuracy. Kreshchevich kept staring at James, who only knew how to eat, slowly crawling forward. As long as he got within ten meters, he could take out the Afghan guerrilla fighter and open up a path for his own side.

  That chicken, save some for me! How did you finish both chicken legs? Kryshewich cursed this glutton in his heart while crawling.

  Suddenly, James, who was eating, raised his head and looked around. When he glanced in Kryshewich's direction, Kryshewich immediately lowered his head. Had he been discovered by this guy?

  Boil water, scald the chicken feathers, roast and eat. Unconsciously, James has spent more than two hours. Seeing that the sun had already set in the west, James knew he couldn't delay any longer. After dark, it wouldn't be easy to find the road.

  Having eaten his fill, James wrapped the leftover chicken in his clothes, not fearing that the greasy chicken would dirty his clothes. He poured the water from his helmet onto the fire, extinguishing it, then mounted his horse and rode off.

  Looking at the figure riding away on horseback, Kri?evi? couldn't help but rush up immediately, with only a short distance of 15 meters between them! He just needed to get closer by five more meters, and within a distance of ten meters, he could have taken out this guy with a silent dagger gun. But now, he could only watch as the guy ran away with half a roasted chicken.

  "Follow him!" came a voice from behind.

  Now that it was almost dark, the night pursuit would become even more difficult. Gilgamesh knew they had no choice but to press on quickly.

  The Afghan guerrilla in front, although riding a horse, did not dare to ride too fast in the heavy snow, and the Soviet soldier behind could follow him at ease.

  James had no idea that so many Soviets were behind him, he hesitated and let the guerrillas go first. Originally, he planned to follow the footprints of those guerrillas to catch up, but when night fell and it started snowing again, in the reflection of the snowy ground, everything around him turned into a vast expanse of snow once more, and he couldn't see the traces left by the people in front of him. James suddenly became anxious.

  The guerrillas wouldn't be walking in the Wakhan Corridor forever, after a while they would enter the mountains to the south. James looked ahead and saw no signs of human passage, then looked left and saw a mountain road, immediately turning his horse's head and following it into the mountain road.

  Actually, James knew in his heart that waiting here was the best choice. He thought that Khwaja would definitely send someone to search for him from behind, but he remembered that he had fallen behind because of his greed for food. If he let others come and find him again, James felt that he would have no face to see Muhammad again. He believed that his luck was good and he could catch up with the guerrilla team.

  So James left the Wahen Corridor and plunged into the mountainous region of the Pamir Plateau.

  The Soviet soldiers behind him did not know that James had gotten lost, and they could no longer find the traces of the guerrilla troops in front of them. They could only follow the guy in front of them, with the heavy snow falling on their bodies, which quickly melted away.

  James walked for half the night, feeling somewhat tired. The half-roasted chicken in his arms had frozen stiff. He tore off a piece of meat with force and put it into his mouth to chew on.

  The heavy snow has stopped again. The starry sky can be seen above, and the white snow around me is also reflecting the light. Everything around me is so unfamiliar.

  Where am I? James kept recalling his route in his mind, and his heart began to get a little anxious, as if he had gotten lost!

  Damn it! How could I get lost! James was extremely disheartened in his heart, with all the heavy snow everywhere, and once his dry rations were gone, he wouldn't be able to find the guerrilla troops and would definitely freeze to death here!

  He would still be back where he started, and Khwaja would certainly send men to search the surrounding area! James thought of this, just wanting to turn his horse's head, when he heard a shout from ahead: "Halt, who are you?"

  In the snowy ground ahead, two people appeared, wearing Afghan robes and headscarves, with only their eyes exposed, and ice crystals on the scarves in front of their mouths. Their feet, however, were bare, standing barefoot in the snow, their skin already turned black.

  In the hands of these two, they held Efield Mk III rifles, which were weapons from the time of the Third Afghan War. They pulled back the bolts with a clatter and pointed their muzzles at James.

  "Thank God, I've finally found you! Take me to see your captain at once!"

  Having said that, James patted his horse and was about to move forward.

  "Halt!" The two guerrilla fighters were even more tense and asked: "What are you after all?"

  In such snowy weather, who would be out and about? Unless it's a Soviet person!

  "I am an American," James said: "I have come to provide you with weapons."

  James ripped off the scarf from his face, revealing a Westerner's countenance, indeed not a Soviet.

  American? The two guerrilla sentries relaxed slowly: "Are you here to supply us with weapons?"

  Their guerrilla team, the weapons are too outdated, they are sentries, holding these two rifles, and in their guerrilla base, there are less than twenty guns in total, some people even hold curved knives.

  Now this guy is actually here to provide us with weapons? Or is he an American? That would be just too good!

  However, they still couldn't relax. One of the guerrillas gave another a signal and he came forward to search James and his horse. On the horse's back, they found several cans of American canned food, and both of them began to drool immediately.

  "Give it to you." James said, at this time, he has already begun to wonder in his heart, looking at the appearance of these people, which is completely unlike Muhammad's guerrilla team, and he should have encountered another guerrilla team.

  This guerrilla force has not yet received outside assistance and is very poorly equipped.

  Although the United States and other Western countries spared no effort in supporting the Afghan guerrillas' resistance against the Soviet Union, there were too many of them. Three or five people, ten or more people, organized together, could fight against the Soviets. Such guerrilla groups had a restraining effect on the Soviet army. At the same time, due to their large numbers, the US side simply couldn't keep track of them all.

  And as for America's principle, as long as there are guerrilla troops that can be in contact with them, they will support them. Now, since they have encountered this guerrilla troop, James naturally would not give up the opportunity.

  "Thank you." The two said, holding the can, neither of them knew how to open it. A guerrilla fighter took out a bayonet and pried the can open, looking at the beef inside, which was frozen hard as stone, but still picked up a piece and stuffed it into his mouth.

  Mujahideen, sounds very powerful, but now many of them are struggling to make ends meet. They fight against the Soviet Union without pay and have to find ways to get guns and ammunition on their own. The Afghan people were already poor, now they are even more impoverished.

  Under the leadership of people like Mohammad, who keep winning victories, with external assistance and also by snatching weapons and food from the Soviets, such guerrilla forces are now rare in Afghanistan.

  "Come with us." After eating the canned food, the two men's attitude towards James suddenly changed. They put away their guns and walked into the valley with James, trudging through the snow.

  James felt a slight sense of joy in his heart, at least he could have a good night's sleep tonight.

  After walking for five or six miles, in the center of the mountain valley, a cave appeared. At the entrance of the cave, an AKM automatic rifle with two legs was set up, which was already their strongest firepower.

  As they brought a man back with them, the guerrilla fighter in front of the submachine gun at the entrance to the cave immediately asked: "Heris, who is this?"

  "He's an American, come to provide us with aid, wants to see the captain."

  "Who wants to give us aid?" a voice came from inside the cave.

  A middle-aged Afghan emerged from the cave, wearing a long robe and a pair of Soviet military boots on his feet, with a pistol hanging at his waist, his eyes sunken.

  "Hello, I'm James, from the CIA." James said to the guerrilla leader: "The US strongly supports Afghanistan's anti-Soviet struggle and hopes to establish contact with various guerrilla groups to provide weapons and equipment."

  "Mr. James, what kind of weapons can you provide for us?" asked Lamierre, the leader of the guerrilla band.

  "Like this AKM rifle, bullets, RPG rocket launcher." James said: "We can all provide, and let every guerrilla here have one."

  "Thank you very much, welcome our guests." Ramail was overjoyed when he heard this. Now his troops didn't even have rocket launchers and could only kill a few isolated Soviets, they were completely unable to confront the Soviet army.

  James walked into the cave and saw that this was indeed the guerrilla's lair, with dry grass spread on the ground. Several guerrillas had just lazily gotten up from there, and at the entrance of the cave, there was a large pot, next to which was only half a bag of grain.

  The area in the cave is not small, it can accommodate twenty or so guerrilla fighters, no problem.

  Sitting on a heap of dry grass, James said: "I came here to find the brave men who resisted the Soviet Union, get in touch with them, determine the number of weapons needed, and when the snow melts next year, we will transport the weapons."

  Lamayile's eagerness for the weapons was almost unbearable, but he also knew that now was not the time. The heavy snow had blocked the mountain roads, and it was difficult to even walk on them, so those weapons could not be transported for the time being.

  "We need equipment for thirty men," Ramail said. "My boys are just short of weapons, otherwise they would also make a big contribution. Now the prestige of our guerrilla force here has been taken away by the Pashtun Khwaja!"

  Lamail said this, still somewhat indignant. James suddenly discovered that the guerrilla fighters in this cave, although they were also big beards, were different from those of Muhammad's guerrilla team. They weren't Pashtuns, but Tajiks!