Chapter 67: Flaying Alive

  As long as they can survive, no one wants to risk their lives. All those who joined the guerrilla forces were people whose relatives had been killed by the Soviets.

  Lamai's hatred ran deeper, his more than thirty men all died in one night, slaughtered by the Soviets! This vendetta must be avenged by those who are still alive!

  Whether they are Soviet people now or Americans in the future, once they fall into the hands of Afghan guerrillas, their greatest wish is to die one minute earlier.

  War is cruel, didn't the Soviets also start up their tanks and thoroughly crush into minced meat both the dead and the still living bodies of their compatriots?

  Having heard the proposal of the person beside his ear, Ramay felt the flames in his eyes suddenly burning fiercely.

  Osama handed a military sword to Lamile with a smile.

  His arm still bleeding, Lammered walked step by step towards the Soviet prisoners.

  "James, you're still alive, that's great." After finishing off the doe, Muhammad finally had a hand free to speak to James, who was covered in wounds.

  James's injury was not serious, all of which were bumps and bruises from the fall, extremely disheveled. He looked at Muhammad and felt even more unable to lift his head.

  If it weren't for that gluttonous chicken, how would we have ended up like this? Thinking about it now, James is filled with regret.

  "Thanks for your quick thinking and bravery, James," Muhammad said. "You realized the Soviets were following you, so you took them elsewhere, securing our cargo's safety. I'll report this to my superiors."

  As soon as these words came out, James's face suddenly became excited.

  James killed the chicken, roasted the chicken, all to hinder the Soviets behind him. Moreover, he took the Soviets with him and drilled into the depths of the mountains alone, completing these things, it was truly too brave! James immediately became self-satisfied.

  "It's not entirely like that." James' face hadn't been thickened by training yet, and now hearing Muhammad say this, he also smiled awkwardly: "The Soviets came with a whole company, we couldn't resist at all, and they even killed an innocent guerrilla squad."

  This time the Soviets who came to the mountainous area were absolutely not just those dozen or so people, looking at the footprints on the side of the cave would know that Muhamed knew there was a large contingent of Soviets nearby.

  The battle on this side was over quickly, and it all ended in less than five minutes. The noise was not small, especially the sound of the explosion from the burning Il-2, which could be heard tens of kilometers away. The remaining Soviet troops might have been rushing to arrive soon.

  "Take the prisoners and prepare to retreat," Muhhamed said. Now, there's no need to tangle with the Soviet troops, it's better to go back and see what good things the Americans have brought, and also install those rocket launchers. The Soviets will wander around in the mountains for a few days, can't find the target, and then they'll leave.

  At this time, Muhammad didn't have a lover's quarrel on his mind, all his thoughts were on those equipment.

  As soon as Muhammad gave the order, a miserable cry was heard from the prisoners.

  "Ah..." The sound was too miserable, too loud, as if it could spread throughout the entire Pamir Plateau.

  What's going on? Muhamed hastened his pace and entered the circle surrounded by guerrillas.

  All that can be seen is the Soviet prisoner lying on the ground, with his hands and feet tied up. At this time, a slit has been cut in the middle of his belly, and along this slit, Lamayile, who had just been rescued, is constantly pulling out the skin with a military knife, cutting towards the inside. With his skilled movements, the skin is being slowly peeled off, no different from peeling a sheep.

  The Soviet prisoner's cries grew more and more mournful, he struggled ceaselessly, but was held down by several guerrilla fighters.

  What is this? Muhammad's face turned black in an instant, the Geneva Convention, prisoners of war cannot be treated like this, this thought only flashed in his mind for a moment, and Muhammad heard the words of the guerrillas around him.

  "Strip, strip off his skin! In those years when the Soviet devils entered our city, they raped many of our women!"

  "Yes, all the elderly in the village were hanged from trees and beaten to death by them!"

  "Flay him and hang him from a tree!" Another voice: "Avenge our dead!"

  One after another voice filled with righteous indignation, Muhammad knew that he was powerless to stop such behavior from happening.

  One side of the belly was completely stripped, Lamayile looked at the Soviet prisoner who was almost dying and said: "Give him some water, don't let him faint."

  Fainting would make one unaware of the suffering, only by keeping this Soviet prisoner awake could one experience such suffering!

  The water in the kettle had frozen, and all around was snow. A guerrilla fighter grabbed a handful of snow and stuffed it into the captive's mouth, the icy snow stimulating him to come back to life again.

  His throat was hoarse from shouting and now his greatest wish was to die one minute sooner.

  "Herman, return to the base immediately and leave twenty people to guard it. The rest will ambush on both sides of Sanliwan's high mountain. S-type mine in the middle of the valley." Muhama said to a guerrilla fighter outside.

  "Yes." Herman took a last look at the scene of skinning, and mounted his own horse.

  This will infuriate the Soviets. Infuriated Soviets are terrifying and prone to mistakes, which Mohammed will seize upon with alacrity.

  I was too cautious just now, since the Soviets have come, why not just let them stay here and keep them all! It's just a company, more than 100 people, my own guerrilla team also has more than 100 people, a beautiful ambush can wipe out these Soviets!

  The guerrilla fighters of Afghanistan are venting their anger, Soviets are Satan, they are invaders!

  Poor Askoff, the skin of his entire chest was stripped off, and blood flowed onto the snowy ground beside him, quickly congealing. The pain and cold made him exceptionally clear-headed, and for a moment he couldn't die. Thus, he could clearly hear the sound of the knife cutting open his skin, and his vision gradually blurred.

  Muhammad sat quietly, gazing into the distance, he knew that the Soviets would arrive soon.

  He turned his head again, and saw Osama standing outside the crowd, extremely quiet. Muhammad suddenly remembered that when he was communicating with James, Osama was with Lamile.

  It was all Osama's instigation that made Lamilei do so! In an instant, this thought flashed into Muhammad's mind.

  Osama has a rebellious and ruthless streak, he doesn't take killing seriously, he doesn't take human life seriously, this is also one of the reasons why he can launch suicide attacks.

  Osama has already shown this kind of character now.

  Thinking of Osama, Muhammad finally got a headache. This guy is like a sharp knife for killing people, if used well, but if not, it might bring trouble to himself.

  Muhammad found Osama looking at him and couldn't help but show a harmless expression, pointing to the Soviet prisoner on the ground and making a gesture.

  Kill him directly, it's too cheap, Muhamed knew Osama's meaning, just like this, it's also too bloody and brutal.

  At this moment, Muhammad's expression on his face became serious again.

  "Mount up, retreat!" Muhammad shouted.

  "Yes." After months of training, this guerrilla troop was able to strictly follow discipline, obey orders and listen to commands. Just now they were still watching from the sidelines, but immediately quickly ran towards their war horses and mounted them.

  They came with one war horse per person, but now there are also Lamier and James.

  Muhammad mounted James on his own warhorse and Osama walked towards Ramla.

  Lamai was still very carefully making his own moves, the military knife in his hand flowing smoothly, the tip of the knife not piercing the skin, this time the peeled off skin was extremely intact.

  He did not hear Muhammad's order.

  "Ramai, let's go! The Soviets are coming!" Osama shouted, and at that moment, the figures of Soviet soldiers appeared at one end of the valley.

  "Not yet," Lamelle said, continuing to peel.

  "Wouldn't it be better to let him?" Osama said: "Let the Soviets know what they'll get for invading our land, are you going to stay here and wait for death or follow us to fight against the Soviets?"

  Following you? Lamia had prejudices against the Pashtun guerrillas, but after witnessing their methods and seeing the crash of the helicopter, her inner self was slowly changing.

  No matter what ethnic group you are from, as long as you can beat the Soviets, you're a hero!

  At last Ramai got up, leaving behind the blood-soaked Soviet captive and Osama mounted on the same horse.

  "Rat-a-tat-a..." The crisp sound of gunfire came over, and the Soviets had already opened fire from a distance.

  Unfortunately, they were too far away, and their bullets did not hit the riders, only seeing the horse hooves trampling on the snowy ground, quickly leaving in another direction.

  Jill Kozak looked unwell.

  When he heard the loud explosion coming from afar, Gil Kocha knew that the Afghan guerrillas had appeared. At this time, he was still a little excited. The Afghan guerrillas were hiding and it wasn't easy to find them. Now, they actually took the initiative to show up, which was a great opportunity to surround and annihilate them!

  But when he arrived with his men, there was a sense of foreboding. The soldiers from his own infantry company were lying dead all over the hillside.

  Without any tactics, Gilko led his men in a charge, the guerrillas fled, and what was left on the ground was a soldier who had been flayed.

  Class Monitor Askerov.

  At this time, Askov was not dead yet, but the skin of his entire upper body had been stripped off. He was alive, more painful than death. Even if he was sent back and taken to the hospital, Askov's life could not be saved.

  Gill Katcha looked at Askoff's mouth shape, Help me! Help me!

  Jill Quaid raised her own gun.

  "Rat-a-tat." The AK-74 emitted a crisp report, and Askov relaxed.

  "Kill all these Afghan guerrillas!" Gil Korchek shouted loudly, his voice echoing throughout the valley.