Dusk, 5:10 PM, the sun just began to set in the west, not yet fully below the horizon.
South of Kandahar, Gamsha.
In a Lexus SUV driving from north to south, Song Heping opened a map on the dashboard in front of him, while holding a civilian version of a satellite GPS, constantly comparing it to the surrounding scenery.
As for map reading and navigation, Song Heping was certainly no stranger.
However, in an utterly unfamiliar country like Afghanistan, driving through vast highland basins to a dangerous area known for the most severe opium cultivation and highest production in the world felt like driving across the African savannah without a guide.
The difference is that in the wilds of Africa, the only things that can kill you are animals, but here, the only things that can kill you are people.
Song Heping shifted his gaze from the map to the window outside. To his right, he could see a river slowly stretching southward, its surface glimring under the afterglow of the sunset, giving off an enchanting golden hue.
This river was the well-known Helmand River of Afghanistan.
It is said that the birth of human civilization must be related to rivers.
Because all tribes would choose to "settle by the water," water is the foundation of life, and only water can nurture life.
The Helmand River runs from south to north, traversing the entirety of Helmand Province, making this highland basin province fertile and rich in resources, and a main provider of food for Afghanistan.
But war has destroyed everything, and now, to survive, most people here don't grow food crops, but opium poppies.
The reason is simple, because growing this stuff makes more money than growing food.
Song Heping had read the analysis provided by ISA before, just in Helmand Province, the cultivation of opium poppies accounted for 90% of Afghanistan's production. If this province had its own brilliance in the ancient tis, now it had lost its soul, gradually becoming dim.
"Don't be nervous!"
Mist, who was driving, turned his head to look at Song Heping on the passenger seat and said with a grin, "I've looked at the map, we're about 80 kiloters away from Hanix. I estimate we'll arrive in two hours. As long as we can see the river—"
He pointed at the Helmand River outside the window.
"If we follow it, we can get to Hanix! Hanix is right by the river."
He was right.
Song Heping felt that he really was unnecessarily nervous.
Everything had been arranged in advance, the calls that needed to be made had been made, and the people who needed to be told had been told.
Before setting out, Song Heping had a video call with the cook and Ferrari, instructing them that if he didn't co back from this mission, they should hand over all his money to his brother or sister to manage his affairs.
Besides, he had also transferred 500,000 US dollars into his sister's account all at once.
Of course, to the current Song Heping, this could only be considered a small sum, but he couldn't transfer the full 20 million US dollars to his brother or sister in one go; that would cause a lot of unnecessary trouble.
All he had to do now was one thing—co back alive.
So, he put away the GPS and tucked away the map, deciding to take the opportunity to enjoy the scenery here.
There's actually no scenery here, yet one could also say it's all scenery.
The land stretches vast and desolate, the sky like a huge grey curtain hanging low, appearing as if it might fall at any mont.
The dry soil has cracked open, forming crevices like the wounds of the earth, silently telling the tale of the passing years.
The indifferent wind howls past, sweeping up yellow sand and dust, rcilessly scraping across every inch of land.
Far in the distance, the undulating mountain ranges lie like slumbering behemoths, quietly resting there for thousands of years, witnessing the suffering on this land.
Occasionally, a few eagles circle in the sky, their gaze sharp as they survey the vast expanse below.
Their cries echo in the open wilderness, adding a touch of desolation and loneliness.
"Mist, how often do you guys get deployed before you can go back for a break?"
Song Heping suddenly thought of this interesting question.
"Normally 3-4 months, but when we're unlucky, even 10 months. Because we're Special Forces, so our overseas missions are short, but frequent and regular. Instead of being deployed, it's more like we go wherever there's trouble, and as soon as it's over, we're back. Before going to Illiguo, I was here, and now, as you see, after the mission in Mosul, I've been singularly dispatched here..."
Perhaps this question resonated with Mist, and he began to reflect, "That's why the divorce rate is so high among our kind. My predecessor once told that the wife of a Seal Team mber can't have both a top Special Forces husband and an excellent husband."
"Oh..." Song Heping rembered his own past and thus sighed from the bottom of his heart, "In China, we have an old saying that is quite similar, which goes, 'One cannot be both loyal and filial to perfection.'"
Mist asked, "What made you suddenly ask about this?"
Song Heping said, "Maybe I've stayed in Illiguo and places like that for too long, and now that I've co to Afghan, all I see are war and desolation, and it always feels very oppressive, almost driving insane."
Mist said, "That's why most people who co out of war have psychological issues, you need to learn how to adjust."
Song Heping fell silent for a mont and then said, "So you choose to find your psychological balance with won?"
"Mm."
This ti, it was Mist's turn to be sparing with his words.
Actually, he really wanted to share with Song Heping the love stories of his past years, those won with whom he'd been involved. His liaisons had caused him quite so trouble in his military career, yet he never tired of them.
He didn't want to commit himself to one person. To a Seal Team mber, commitnt was a troubleso matter, as the divorce rate among his comrades was as high as ninety percent; after all, no one liked marrying a man who was frequently deployed and couldn't even say where he was going.
Mist felt he couldn't play this deep love ga, so he'd rather seek brief pleasures with call girls, strippers, or drunk girls he t in bars, and not venturing into an intense, enduring so-called love with a pure-hearted woman.
As a seasoned Special Forces mber, even his approach to romance involuntarily carried a tinge of professional military scheming; taking part in dangerous and highly risky operations was irrational.
Night fell swiftly.
Song Heping took out his weapon—for this mission, he had abandoned all his previous gear, bringing nothing with him this ti. Niki had prepared the familiar AK package for both of them; the handgun was more to his liking. He chose a Beretta 92F he had used before because it could be bought anywhere here, nothing special.
Carrying a MK18 assault rifle with a silencer in this place, let alone using night-vision gear, might as well write 'US Army' all over your forehead.
Just like when he was on guard duty in a vehicle in Illiguo, Song Heping stashed the AKM assault rifle behind the car door, chambered a round, took out his handgun, checked it, and flipped off the safety.
He checked the GPS again. This ti, there was less than 20 kiloters to Hanix. Once there, according to the plan, they would find a random place to stay in a local village called Jabade, where soone from the Revolutionary Brigade would et them.
To outsiders, this approach might seem utterly unreliable, primitive, even comical. But Song Heping and Mist both knew this was the way of the experts.
With the US Army's military technology, they could monitor electronic signals in the area and even use electronic reconnaissance planes to intercept and decrypt signal content. Therefore, using a mobile phone to communicate here would be extrely foolish.
In places like Afghanistan, whether it be a Resistance Organization or a terrorist organization, their organizational structure is quite peculiar. Often, they choose the most primitive thods of communication, and leaders depend on ssengers to connect with their subordinates.
This was a hard-earned lesson from experience, paid for with blood and tears. At the start of the Afghan war, the US Army sent Green Berets to infiltrate the Northern Alliance Forces, not only providing continuous links but also electronic surveillance and intelligence support. This led to the rapid retreat of the Student Army governnt; less than a month into the war, their front collapsed and they were squeezed into mountainous areas.
Song Heping understood clearly that for outsiders like him and Mist to arrive in an unfamiliar southern Afghan village seeking shelter, it wouldn't take long for the news to spread to the ears of the Revolutionary Brigade's ard forces stationed nearby, through the village's informants. Then, naturally, soone would co knocking.
This was not a concern at all.
What he was more worried about was whether there might be bandits suddenly erging to rob them along the way, especially in the wilderness and in the most dangerous area of the Golden Crescent.
It would be a real sha to survive the Revolutionary Brigade and the Student Army, only to die at the hands of these scattered ard individuals.
Perhaps their luck was exceptionally good.
They didn't encounter a single living person along the way.
Both found this unbelievable.
"What the hell, is everyone here dead?"
Mist glanced at the rough road ahead while also looking around.
In this place, even lights were hard to see.
"Maybe it's because of the war, people don't dare to co out at night," suggested Song Heping. "Who knows when you guys will start bombing and attacking?"
Mist paused for a mont, then laughed bitterly.
He had to admit that Song Heping was speaking the truth.
"I feel like we're getting close," said Mist, slowing down the vehicle.
Song Heping took out the GPS, switched on a flashlight, and compared the coordinates.
"Yeah, we're here. This is a civilian GPS, so the signal's a bit off, but based on the map and ti, it should be about right," he concluded.
"Where's the village?" Mist was quite troubled.
Finding a village in the highland wilderness in total darkness.
Without night vision goggles, no military GPS, no communication equipnt to contact the command center for satellite positioning information...
It felt like the two of them were thrown into a dark room with no light, forced to grope their way alone.
"This road goes south, just drive slowly. The village should be near the road. I don't believe there won't be a single light," said Song Heping.
Sotis, after strict map-reading training in the Special Forces, one could imprint the map in their mind when in unfamiliar environnts. They would have a rough idea of the direction of the target and its position relative to landmarks.
Their vehicle ambled lonely across the empty highland, like a small boat in a tempestuous sea.
Beyond the reach of the headlights, the darkness was as thick as ink; it was impossible to differentiate anything.
Without night vision goggles, it was indeed inconvenient!
Finally, Song Heping saw an orange glow appear to the right front.
"Wait!"
He pointed toward the direction of the light.
"Lao Mi, look over there. Is that a light?!"
"It's a light!"
Mist excitedly confird upon seeing it.
He stepped on the gas, accelerating towards the source of the light.
Soon, a small village erged under the high beams.
Scattered on the hillside were houses and sheep pens in front of them, and then they heard dogs barking.
"Woof woof woof! Woof woof woof!"
At the sound of the dogs barking, Song Heping felt a jolt of alarm.
"Be careful, turn off the lights and drive the car into those woods over there! Let's get out quickly!"
Mist seed to have realized the danger too. He imdiately switched off the headlights and, relying on his mory of the direction, swung the wheel violently and floored the gas pedal toward the roadside woods.
Having the headlights on in the darkness indeed allowed them to see ahead, but it also made them visible to others. If soone hidden in the dark shot at the car, they'd both be dead.
This car wasn't bulletproof.
And sure enough, they had barely driven away when two gunshots rang out from a distance.
Pop pop—
Song Heping broke out in a cold sweat.
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