Farming Life Starting in Africa

After thinking for a long time, Rosen finally took out his phone and called their company commander, Fahd.

In the dead of night, the wind howled, and the tattered tents in the camp rattled and swayed like an old woman's teeth. In the distance, you could hear a few soldiers drinking and playing drinking games, their voices as loud as a pig being slaughtered.

Temperatures in Africa can get quite low at night, with a significant difference between day and night temperatures. Most nights the temperature is around 10 degrees Celsius, but sometimes it can drop below zero.

The phone rang seven or eight times before it was answered. It was noisy on the other end; you could tell they were at a dinner party.

"Feed? Who?"

"I'm a honey badger. Come out here, I'm right outside your camp gas station."

"Okay, wait and see."

Just a few minutes after hanging up the phone, Rosen saw a large, dark-skinned man strolling over from the barracks. The way he walked, swaying like he was walking on cotton, clearly hadn't been drinking much.

As you get closer, the smell of alcohol hits you first—goodness, how much did they drink? Vodka or Erguotou?

Fahad, sporting a full beard, had only the bottom two buttons of his military uniform fastened, his chest open to reveal a patch of dark chest hair. He grinned, his breath reeking of alcohol: "Hey buddy, calling me late at night? Want to come in for a drink?"

Rosen couldn't help but chuckle at his antics. These government soldiers, they all drank every night. The easiest way to wipe them all out was to slip a sleeping potion into their drinks; they wouldn't wake up until the sun was high in the sky the next day.

"Brother," Rosen offered a cigarette, "did anything happen to you guys today?"

Fahd took the cigarette, lit it, took a deep drag, and sighed. The sigh intensified the smell of the alcohol, making Rosen lean back.

"Oh—don't even mention it!" Fahd waved his hand. "Today, Omar's squad went out on a mission and got ambushed by a group of rebels. It was a disaster; they almost got wiped out. If it weren't for a US armed helicopter passing by and helping them out, those guys would all be dead."

After hearing this, Rosen's lips twitched, and he was speechless.

He knew the US military's true nature all too well. Those guys never helped anyone for no reason. Unless the benefit was huge, the chances of them having nothing better to do than them flying over just to join in the fun were less absurd than Stephen Hawking participating in a marathon and setting a world record.

However, he was still a little curious and asked, "What kind of mission are they on? Running around in broad daylight."

Fahd looked around, then leaned closer and whispered, "I heard Omar received a distress message; a village is being massacred. There's a beautiful woman in that village, Omar's old flame."

"A massacre of a village?" Rosen frowned. In this day and age, who would bother with those poor bastards? Those small villages, you couldn't find much money even if you searched them thoroughly. It's hard to say whether you'd have enough bullets to kill them.

Fahd nodded and continued, "That village is next to the oil pipeline; I reckon it's a deterrent or retaliation. People from several neighboring villages have already started moving out."

Upon hearing this, Rosen's brows furrowed even more.

Oil pipelines? Aren't those all owned by the Americans?

This doesn't sound like something terrorists or robbers would do. If terrorists were to do something like this, they'd blow up an oil pipeline; they wouldn't have time to massacre a village.

He had some doubts, but he didn't say anything. There were all sorts of weird things happening in this place; those terrorists were on drugs and their minds were all messed up, so it wouldn't be surprising if they did something drastic.

Rosen put the cigarette back in his mouth, then took another one out of his pocket and tossed it to Fahad: "By the way, I heard the Steel Army has been quite active lately? They even blew up a signal tower this morning."

"Yeah, that's right." Fahad took the cigarette and tucked it behind his ear. "Our boss is having a terrible headache right now. Several companies are protesting, saying that communications can't be guaranteed and they can't take on a lot of jobs. Our boss has already announced that they're going to launch a siege against the Iron Army soon."

Upon hearing this, Rosen immediately laughed: "So, are you guys short on gear? Tell your boss, I have some good deals. And in a few days, I'll be getting a batch of American-made M4 carbines, the real deal."

Fahd's eyes widened immediately. "Where did you come from? Did you get in touch with some bigwigs at the US military base?"

"No, no, I just made a few friends." Rosen waved his hand, firmly denying it, "The goods didn't come from here, and the price is negotiable."

He had no desire to have anything to do with the US military. There were plenty of people here who hated the US military; those guys always caused families to be ruined and people to die, and they never did anything worthwhile.

Seeing that he was unwilling to say more, Fahad didn't bother to ask any further: "Okay, I'll call the boss tonight and talk to him about this. Remember, my commission can't be reduced."

"No problem!" Rosen slapped his thigh. "By the way, are you still procuring military vehicles? If you are, I'll give you a 20% commission."

"How would I know? It depends on what the higher-ups want." Fahad scratched his beard, his eyes darting around. "When I go back to St. Francis next month, I'll ask my father-in-law. By the way, brother—could you help us modify a car into a bulletproof one? I'll give you a discount."

His father-in-law was the second-in-command of the country's Ministry of Defense. Although he wasn't the absolute authority, he still wielded considerable power; otherwise, he wouldn't have come to Uller to retire at such a young age.

Without a second thought, Rosen replied, "Sure, $100,000. Its bulletproof performance is no worse than my Hummer."

Fahd shook his head vigorously, "No, no, that's too expensive, I definitely can't afford it. How about 15,000?"

Rosen looked at him as if he were an idiot.

Want to buy an armored car for just over ten thousand yuan? You can't even dream of that. That price is only enough to weld a few steel plates onto his car and replace it with a decent used engine.

"Don't make things difficult for me," Rosen sighed. "We can't even cover the costs. Didn't your boss just get some money from upstairs? How come we're broke again?"

"Who knows?" Fahad shrugged, looking nonchalant. "The higher-ups have already divided up all the money. We lower-ups are lucky to even get a little pocket money. We can't think about it too much, it'll just make us anxious."

When Rosen returned to his lodgings, he found Swagger still waiting on the first floor. Patrick had already gone back to his room to sleep, and his snoring could be heard through the door.

When Swag saw Rosen enter, he jumped up from his chair, staring intently at him: "So? Any news?"