"I'll be careful"

As Wei Ran spoke, he ran forward more than ten meters with his camera, surpassing the young man named Multaza. He first took a single photo of him, and then took a photo of him and the "fully armed" sheep behind him.

, and two other people took a group photo.

"This is the Imperial Cemetery..."

Wei Ran, who had completed his return mission ahead of schedule, couldn't help but look into the distance. Unfortunately, except for the khaki road, he didn't see any signs of towns or human activities in his field of vision.

After a while, the sheep carrying heavy burdens passed by both sides of his body, and he once again walked with Mahbub and Habibullah.

To be cautious, Wei Ran did not rush to ask about the three people's battle plans, but just asked Jia Chang aimlessly.

It was also during the chat that I learned that Habibullah was Mahbub’s youngest son, and Multaza who was walking in the front was the grandson left to him by his eldest son, who had already

He died in the second year after the war started.

When it comes to the war, it seems that all related branches are particularly heavy. Wei Ran stopped asking more questions about his family and instead talked about what they were doing.

"We are responsible for sending weapons, ammunition and you, a freelance journalist, to the guerrillas."

Mahboob smiled and said, "Isn't this what we agreed on from the beginning? Have you regretted it?"

"Of course not"

Wei Ran smiled and said, "What do I mean by sending me and the weapons and ammunition to the back? Will you stay or go back immediately?"

"Maybe I'll stay, maybe I'll go back."

Mahbub replied with a smile. Obviously, he still had reservations about Wei Ran, who assumed the status of a freelance journalist.

Although the other party did not answer the last irrelevant question, Wei Ran, who had already obtained the answer to the key question, stopped asking more questions on this topic and chatted with the other party about his experience working in Moscow.

If you only look at Mahboob's old appearance, it would be hard to believe that he was once a university teacher.

It was even more difficult for Wei Ran to understand how he turned from a university teacher to a guerrilla.

"My eldest son is a soldier who led the guerrillas to fight against the Soviets"

Mahbub said, “My second son was also killed by the Soviets two years ago, including my eldest son’s wife, my second son’s wife and children, as well as my wife, and many of my students.

One after another they were killed by the Soviets.

Reporter Victor, is this a good enough reason?”

"That's enough." Wei Ran ended the topic apologetically.

For a moment, the team, which had fewer people than sheep, fell into silence, and the only sounds left were the sounds of sheep's hooves, donkey's hooves trampling the ground and rocks sliding down.

Following the three generations of ancestors and grandchildren, they climbed over barren mountains with only stones. As noon approached, Multaza, who was walking at the front, tied the sheep he had been holding in his hand to a protruding stone.

“Let’s have something to eat”

Mahbubu took out two enamel milk cans, one large and one small, from the cloth bag on a donkey, as well as two oil stoves issued by the Soviet army, which were only half the size of civilian lunch boxes.

After taking the small milk can, the young man named Multaza found a ewe and started milking it skillfully.

At the same time, Habibullah also took over the oil stove and began to pump air and pressure.

Mahbub, on the other hand, carried another enamel milk can and walked farther and farther along the ravine, and was finally blocked by the mountain.

Seeing that three generations of his family were busy, Wei Ran simply took off the hard cowhide suitcase that seemed to belong to him, opened it, and checked the contents inside.

The things inside are arranged in very neat categories. Several sets of underwear and socks, two pairs of pants, a sweater and a windbreaker occupy the most important positions.

In addition to a few bottles of condiments and some medicines such as amoxicillin, the rest of the space also contains a telescopic tripod, external flashes, shutter cables, etc., and even twenty boxes of film, or even a full box.

Button battery.

It's a reporter again...

Wei Ran muttered secretly, fastened the leather buckle of the suitcase, and put it aside temporarily.

In just a short time, the youngest Multaza had squeezed out a can full of goat's milk. Habibullah also lit the small oil stove and placed the milk can on it.

He handed over the job of looking after the milk tank to his nephew Multaza, and he began to pump gas and pressure into the second kerosene stove.

"Can I communicate with you in English?" Wei Ran asked.

"Yes, but my English is not very good." Habibullah replied slightly nervously and flustered. Obviously, this is a young man who will be labeled as a "social phobia" in future generations.

"I think your English pronunciation is very standard," Wei Ran said with a smile.

"I want to visit the United States, especially New York."

While cheering, Habibullah added a precondition to his previous wish, "If there is no such war."

"You will have a chance in the future," Wei Ran said as he pressed the shutter towards the young man.

"Well, the war is about to end." Habibullah said, "After the war is over, I will go to the United States to see if I am still alive by then."

Having said this, he glanced at his nephew Multaza who was boiling goat milk, and after Weiran took a photo of him, he said, "Multaza also wants to visit the United States."

"You will all have a chance." Before Wei Ran finished speaking, Mahbubu also came back carrying the milk can.

Almost at the same time, Habibullah also lit the second oil stove, reached into the donkey's pocket, took out a glass bottle, opened it, squeezed a small amount of black tea from it, put it into a cloth bag the size of a cigarette box and tied it tightly.

, then opened a glass jar, pinched a pinch of coarse salt and threw it into the jar containing goat milk.

Immediately afterwards, Mahbub carried the milk can and asked everyone, including Wei Ran and himself, to simply wash their hands, and then placed the remaining half can of water on the lit oil stove, and

He threw the cloth bag containing the black tea in.

While the goat's milk and black tea were boiling, the grandfather and grandson each spread their blankets on the ground, held their hands together in front of them, and started the noon ceremony devoutly.

Pressing the shutter on the three of them again, Wei Ran politely took off the camera and placed it on his suitcase, and then took over the task of looking after the goat milk and black tea.

When the goat's milk and black tea were boiling, and the grandfather and grandson also completed their prayers, Mahbub also took out two pieces of naan bread from the donkey's cloth pocket, broke them in half, and gave each person half.

Piece of cake.

At the same time, Multaza also dug out four enamel jars. Habibullah picked up the small milk jug and poured the goat milk in it equally into the four enamel jars.

Behind him, Mahbubu also picked up the jug and followed the boiled black tea inside.

“Eat whatever you want”

Mahbub said apologetically, "We only have this to entertain guests now."

“This is already good”

Wei Ran thanked him politely and took the initiative to donate his suitcase to serve as a dining table.

When the elder Mahbubu was the first to eat, he followed their example, holding a broken piece of naan bread with his right hand, dipping it in the enamel jar containing milk tea and then putting it into his mouth.

It’s hard to describe this meal as delicious or not, but in this cold weather with temperatures in the single digits above zero at most.

A cup of hot tea that is enough to warm up the body and replenish protein and salt, as well as enough carbohydrates, already makes him very satisfied.

Listening to the grandfather and grandson chatting about unknown topics in a language he didn't understand, the only thing Wei Ran could do was to raise his camera and take another photo of the three of them having a meal together.

After finishing a simple lunch in almost an hour from preparation to packing up, Wei Ran followed the three of them on the road again, heading towards an unknown destination step by step.

Inevitably, he is also curious.

What kind of existence is the Afhan guerrillas from another perspective, and what kind of war will he record when he once again steps into the battlefield as a reporter.

But at the same time, he was paradoxically aware of another fact: the aggressor this time was the Soviet Union, which had been invaded before. The invaded this time, in Grozny a few years later, would be carried out in a bloody and cruel way.

revenge.
Chapter completed!