This was a lengthy flight.
Normally, there's just a Persia between Illiguo and Afghan, and crossing Persian airspace would make the journey quick, of course, that was impossible.
So, they had to detour from the Persian Gulf to the Arabian Sea and then enter Pakistani airspace, from there they transferred to Afghan, landing at Kandahar Airport.
Kandahar Airport was a military fortress in the vortex of war, an important base for the US Army in Afghan.
Although the US Army had been in Afghan for over two years conducting an "anti-terrorism" war, they still hadn't managed to control the entire territory.
This small Central Asian country, known as the "Empire Graveyard," had taught those who claid to be invincible a tough lesson with its unique resilience, making them experience the anguish that the Soviets had faced here years ago.
Even Kandahar wasn't absolutely safe, much like Illiguo, there were always sporadic attacks that kept the stationed Arican soldiers in a constant state of nervousness.
Song Heping and Mist exited the plane and were imdiately approached by a lieutenant who inquired, "You ca from Illiguo? Song Heping? Mist?"
While speaking, he sized up both of them.
"Yes, that's us," Mist saluted and pointed to his side at Song Heping, "He's Song Heping, I'm Mist."
After returning the salute, the lieutenant said, "I'm Lieutenant Jones, follow ."
Having said that, he didn't wait for Song Heping to greet him and turned to lead the way.
It was April by now, and the temperature inside Afghan was around ten degrees, the most comfortable season.
Song Heping followed behind Lieutenant Jones, looking around as they walked.
The security inside and outside the airport was stringent, with ard to the teeth Arican soldiers at every significant point, many entrances were directly guarded by a Humvee with a gunner on standby atop its mounted machine gun, ready to fire at any intruders.
The atmosphere within the airport was as oppressive and tense as it had been in Illiguo's airport; even under bright and sunny skies, the air that one breathed still carried a faint sll of gunpowder.
Here, planes were taking off and landing all the ti: fighter jets, transport planes, and even helicopters. Each takeoff and landing were accompanied by a deafening roar from the engines, torturing the eardrums.
As they were passing the helicopter area, suddenly the dull sound of rotor blades filled the sky, a Chinook swept over their heads like a giant bird, then landed on a helipad about dozens of ters away.
A dical vehicle emblazoned with a red cross rushed in, unloading several soldiers who looked like bloodied radishes from the helicopter, people around were shouting loudly, and swiftly, the wounded were loaded onto the ambulance which zood off before Song Heping's eyes.
"It's been over two years, and the fighting is still so fierce?"
Song Heping couldn't help but ask Mist.
Mist replied, "Guerrilla warfare, it can't be helped. The Hindu Kush mountain range is too vast to completely clear out, this place is even more troubleso than Illiguo."
Song Heping thought to himself that guerrilla warfare never seems to go out of style; even the United States, with the most advanced military technology in the world, couldn't avoid being dragged into a frustrating and low-level war of attrition.
Soon, both of them followed Lieutenant Jones into a vehicle, and shortly after driving out of the airport, they entered the outskirts of Kandahar city.
Song Heping looked out from the car, seeing nothing but desolation everywhere.
Kandahar wasn't the capital Kabul, and the situation here was even tenser.
When they initially invaded Afghan, the US Army, in conjunction with remnants of the Northern Alliance, had advanced from the north and the east. The student militia had retreated all the way, either into the Hindu Kush mountain range or further south because that area bordered Persia and Pakistan and was mostly mountainous. Thanks to the fortifications left from the era of the Soviet invasion, even the large Ground Penetrating Bombs used by the US Army were unable to eliminate the guerrillas in these areas.
Before coming here, Song Heping also knew that Afghan had always been very poor.
Decades of war had left it a scarred place; describing Afghan as poor seed an understatent.
Kandahar city bore no traces of a modern city; Song Heping only saw a landscape filled with war marks and human suffering.
The ruins and broken walls in the streets bore witness to countless battles and destructions, most of the city's buildings had been destroyed, leaving behind only so broken walls and collapsed roofs.
On the sides of the streets, once bustling shops and civilian hos had now turned into ruins, with rubble everywhere and weeds growing wildly.
So buildings still bore bullet holes and explosion marks, as if narrating the cruelty of war.
Occasionally, one could see a few dirty locals by the roadside, won wearing those loose-fitting burkas, who, seeing Song Heping and the others in the car, flashed a look of fear, halted their steps and moved as close to the side of the road as possible.
If Illiguo gave Song Heping a sense of chaos, then Afghan gave him a feeling of despair.
The vehicle traveled a few dozen kiloters and finally entered a military camp located on the west side of Kandahar.
The periter of the camp still had the usual HESCO blast walls, but here they were more cautious, stacking two layers of these blast walls and creating a passageway between them. Vehicles entering had to first drive through this entrance, and then follow the artificial pathway made by the blast walls to a second entrance before they could truly enter the camp.
All entrances to the camp had hairpin bends for decelerating, and were equipped with at least two checkpoints. The first was to check if the entering vehicles and people were dangerous and to verify their identities, and the second to recheck identities to ensure they were correct before allowing entry.
This indicated that the Arican soldiers here had a harder ti than those in Illiguo.
Such a strict security procedure was clearly the result of lessons bought with blood.
Most of the structures inside the camp were prefabricated houses and tents; the camp was like a small community, and like in Illiguo's camp, they had everything.
Song Heping saw so soldiers who were not on duty even playing football inside the camp; others had set up beach chairs outside their tents, treating the place like a beach resort and sunbathing.
The vehicle passed through the camp, heading towards the northeast corner.
At last, he stopped in front of a relatively secluded iron gate.
Lieutenant Jones turned to the two n and said, "We're here, get off."
Both of them got off carrying their luggage.
Song Heping stood in front of the iron gate, sizing up this quiet area.
It was an independent area, surrounded by a barbed wire fence, with dedicated personnel guarding the entrance, almost like a small kingdom within the entire camp.
Behind the barbed wire, Song Heping saw many barracks.
Inside there were about a dozen barrack buildings.
The guards at the gate instantly looked different from those Arican soldiers outside; their attire had no unit markings, they wore sunglasses, and on their ears clipped noise-canceling headsets typical of Special Forces.
Song Heping had dealt with the US Army before, and he knew very well that these unmarked individuals generally served in so special military unit.
However, he did not know which unit they belonged to and had no interest in finding out.
The US Army's Special Forces and secret units were far too nurous, and even outsiders knew only a small part of them, many of which were not widely known even within their own ranks.
Upon seeing Lieutenant Jones, the two guards greeted him and then opened the iron gate.
As they entered, Song Heping whispered to Mist, "Why do I feel like this gate leads to hell?"
"They are ISA personnel," Mist whispered back. "You're right, this is hell, welco to hell."
Jones led them to a small tent and pointed, "You'll be staying here for the next few days."
Song Heping looked around. Besides barracks, there were also several tents, and most strangely, there was a huge iron cage in the middle of the clearing.
Just as they were about to walk into the tent with their backpacks, they suddenly heard a miserable wail from behind.
The voice was hoarse as a broken gong, sounding as if soone had scread their throat raw.
Song Heping quickly turned around and saw two burly soldiers, as robust as bulls, one on each side, escorting a man in a soaked robe coming out of one of the large barracks.
The man in the robe was struggling and pleading, speaking a language Song Heping did not understand, probably the local Afghan language.
But he could guess it was a plea for rcy.
One could tell he had been tortured beyond his limits.
The robed man was almost dragged all the way to the giant iron cage, then one of the robust soldiers opened the cage, and like throwing away trash, they threw the man in the robe inside. Bang!, the iron door shut, and no matter the man's pleading, they turned and walked away without a care.
The surrounding guards and people present didn't even take another glance at this scene, as if it was all too normal.
Soon after, a blonde woman in her thirties or forties walked out of the barrack, tall and buxom, with the classic beauty of Western traditional beauties.
She had wheat-colored skin and, like the male soldiers, wore a short-sleeved T-shirt. Song Heping could see her deltoid and bicep muscles, which were very "fit."
"Tsk, tsk!"
Song Heping couldn't help but exclaim.
He thought, whoever ends up being her husband probably won't be able to handle this powerful mare.
"This woman, top-notch!"
Mist's eyes glead like a wild wolf prowling in the night.
"Damn!"
Song Heping whispered, "You have such heavy taste?"
"You're young, you know nothing!" Mist retorted in a tone that suggested he was more experienced and mature, which really annoyed Song Heping.
He was only about seven or eight years older than himself, what was he acting like!
The blonde woman walked out of the warehouse door, took off her disposable gloves, tossed them into the bin at the entrance, and said to the male soldiers beside her, "Good progress today, he should last another day, we'll definitely break him tomorrow."
As she spoke, she glanced toward Song Heping and Mist.
Mist imdiately straightened up, making himself appear more upright.
The woman seed to notice the two and walked directly towards them.
"Here she cos, here she cos," Mist said.
Instinctively, he rubbed his crew cut.
"Kid, learn sothing," he said.
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