Chapter 116: Released in Batches

  The bulldozer stopped working, but the Soviets wouldn't stop. They switched to tanks, rumbling forward with their turrets turned backwards, and with a loud crash, they knocked down the houses in front of them.

  Afghan locals who were forced out of their homes earlier, watched helplessly as their houses were demolished, clenching their fists in silence.

  The tank took the most brutal action, anyway these houses were very old, after being knocked down and crushed several times, they also became ruins that could not be hidden.

  In this way, the isolation zone was rapidly established. By nightfall, the area within a 200-meter radius centered on the hospital had become an isolated island.

  On the outskirts of the island, there were dense Soviet troops, two regiments, thousands of people, surrounding this place, and also a regiment of government troops...

  "Moscow has sent a congratulatory telegram." Belgrade said: "Today, we will thoroughly eliminate the rebellion in the north, and from now on our north will be very stable, which is extremely beneficial to our Soviet strategy."

  Dorofeyev's face wore a smile: "Yes, we've gone to great lengths and finally surrounded all these rebels. They won't be able to escape now."

  "Yes, these rebels have always been disrupting the normal order of Jalalabad, giving us a big headache. This time we were able to get rid of them, all thanks to your command, sir." Belgrade continued.

  Actually, he has nothing to do with Dorofeyev. This guy was just transferred not long ago and can only be said that his luck is too good, having such a great achievement, and will soon be promoted to army commander.

  "Now we are waiting for good news from Nikubdin," Dorofeyev said.

  Those medical staff and patients will not give up unless absolutely necessary.

  "Report, photographs taken by reconnaissance planes." Just then a secretary came in and reported to Dorofeev.

  These guerrillas actually have toxic-tipped anti-aircraft missiles! Now they've completely confirmed this, so... For the time being, no helicopters were dispatched, only reconnaissance planes flew over from high altitude and took some photos with a high-definition camera.

  Now, looking at the photo, it's a square in front of the hospital building. There's something special on the flagpole - someone is hanging there!

  "After comparison, we confirm it is Mr. Nikubutin." The secretary said.

  Reconnaissance aircraft imagery requires specialized interpreters because most photographs are taken from directly overhead.

  Nikolai! He's actually been hanged from the flagpole! Doesn't that mean that the guerrilla troops opposite have refused to release the hostages? Do they really think that with those hostages, we won't dare take action? Do they naively believe that by taking those native residents as hostages too, we won't dare launch an attack? Wiping them out would be the greatest victory. Even if it comes at a greater cost, Moscow will absolutely not say anything. They'll only praise us!

  "Orders, tonight, launch a rescue operation, regardless of success or failure, attack at dawn tomorrow!"

  At least he tried himself. If it can't be saved, General Terekov should forgive himself, he has done his best.

  "Yes." The chief of staff said beside him.

  Just as we were about to leave, a combat liaison officer rushed in: "Report, a group of people has been found. They are crossing our isolation zone!"

  "Who is it?"

  "There were several of our medical personnel and a group of indigenous residents."

  They've already started releasing people? Dorofeev was suddenly very pleased: "Let's go take a look, and temporarily control those indigenous residents!"

  Dorofeyev sincerely hoped that among those released this time, there would be Irina, which would be the most suitable. As for others, forget it! Launch an attack tonight! Dorofeyev was already looking forward to sending a battle report back to Moscow.

  When Dorofeyev arrived with the people at the outermost circle of the encirclement, he saw the controlled Afghan indigenous residents and those few medical personnel.

  The medical staff were all frightened, and even now their faces are still pale. Dorofeev was annoyed to find that Irina was not there.

  "What's going on?" Dorofeev asked a medical worker personally.

  "That Mr. Nikubdin was hanged on the flagpole, and that Muhammad, very brutally beat Mr. Nikubdin half to death, and some of the rebels said they would flay Mr. Nikubdin." a medical staff who looked slightly sober said.

  "I'm talking about you!" Dorofeyev said, not caring about Nikubdin's life or death. When Nikubdin brought those guerrillas to Jalalabad, his value had already been lost.

  "That Muhamed, let's send word over to him, he'll release us in batches and also release the residents inside in batches," said the medical staff.

  In batches? Looking at these people, if they are released in batches, how long will it take? The other side is definitely stalling for time!

  However, what's the use of delaying time? The other side won't have any more reinforcements. All the guerrilla troops in northern Afghanistan are here. Even if they delay, it has no value.

  "Have those residents been checked?" Dorofeev asked a company commander who was on guard here.

  "We've checked them out, they don't seem like guerrillas. And they all have their own identification papers," said the company commander.

  Guerrilla fighters have to use guns, and due to shooting with guns, including constant training, a callus will form on the shoulder, and the right index finger will also become hardened. By these signs, it can be easily judged whether someone is an armed personnel or a civilian.

  The guerrillas have started releasing those civilians, so we need to be even more vigilant. If these guerrillas disguise themselves as civilians and escape, it would be a great loss.

  "How did you get out?" Dorofeev asked one of the residents.

  The resident was clearly very flustered: "I, I don't know either, yesterday I heard gunshots, I've been staying at home, not daring to come out. This afternoon, I was pulled out of my house by several people with guns and told to follow the crowd."

  "Who are those people?"

  "It's neither government troops nor your friendly forces... it seems like... mountain rebels."

  The guerrilla forces would never admit they were rebels; in their eyes, the government was a puppet regime.

  "So where are you planning to go?"

  "There's nowhere else to go, and I have a relative in Kabul," said the resident.

  I asked a few, didn't ask out any remarkable things, these people should all be ordinary residents, the guerrilla inside won't be so foolish, the first time they let them out and mixed with guerrillas. These people have no experience of holding guns, even more won't be guerrillas.

  "Sir, do we need to take care of these people?" The company commander asked.

  "Let them go." Dorofeev lost interest in keeping an eye on these people, at least for a day, and didn't see the need to provide them with free food.

  Just as he was about to leave, Dorofeyev turned around and said: "Send someone to tail them and see where they go."

  Chris's figure looked so lonely in the dark night, most people had settled down in the villages around Jalalabad, while Chris set foot on the road to Kabul, he went to join his relatives.

  As they were leaving, the Soviets also provided them with food, a can of military canned goods. How could this can of food be enough for their journey?

  Chris didn't say much more and just kept walking, step by step, into the deep of night.

  Very tired, Chris sat on a rock, looking back at the dark road behind him, with a hint of his unique smile.

  A Soviet soldier sat down behind a stone fifty meters away from Chris, glanced at the blurry figure in the distance, seemed to be going to sleep, and simply rested for a while.

  That stupid instructor issued such an inhumane order, supervising these residents who came out!

  How can they be supervised? They are all scattered around and even the team leaders have sent out more than half of their people, so in the end, it's just one person supervising another.

  He's the most unfortunate one, following the surveillance target for so long, he's already exhausted. These Afghans can really walk!

  Everywhere is mountainous, traveling except for mules, relies on two legs, they have long been practiced.

  But this Soviet soldier was not a candidate for surveillance at all. He was a combat soldier, not a KGB agent.

  Seeing his target fall asleep, he finally decided to relax and take a rest while he had the chance.

  In the second half of the night, the moon rose, and the surroundings gradually became quiet and peaceful. The Soviet soldiers lay down behind the rocks, sleeping soundly.

  Slowly, slowly, a light, almost inaudible footstep sound came, a figure, under the moonlight, slowly approached him, one step, and another.

  When he got close to one step away, he raised what was in his hand high up, it was a big stone!

  "Thud!" The stone heavily hit the Soviet soldier's chest, he suddenly woke up, opened his eyes wide, and only saw the ferocious Afghan civilian in front of him, who was exactly the target he had been tracking.

  This man is not an ordinary civilian! He must be a guerrilla fighter! The soldier's mouth was constantly coughing up blood, and he was definitely injured in the lungs. He weakly crawled around, watching as his opponent snatched away his military knife, the shiny blade reflecting light into his eyes.

  Blood spurted out, and the Soviet soldier closed his eyes forever. Ahga squatted down, unfastened the equipment of this Soviet soldier, put it on himself, picked up the AK-74 rifle, and quickly flashed into a nearby mountain ditch.

  Aga and Anna were in Jalalabad when the guerrillas attacked, and Aga happened to be near the hospital, where they were both trapped.

  Aga is a native of Jalalabad, with government certification. For over a year now, Aga has been following Anna to develop the intelligence agency, without returning to the guerrilla or training, and the cocoon on his shoulder has long since disappeared.