Samurai & Snipers полностью

After a few minutes of crawling, he reached the vicinity of third base. Fortunately, there was more than brush to provide cover out here. The wing of a downed plane lay in the weeds, having been there long enough that a few vines crept over it. He could see a chunk of the fuselage in the outfield, which might give Philly some cover. Deke couldn’t tell if the plane was Japanese or American, and he didn’t much care. In addition to providing decent cover, the broken wing also made a good bench rest.

Juana joined him, and they both rested their rifles on the metal skin of the plane’s wing, searching for targets in the stands. Deke had the advantage of having a telescopic sight on his Springfield, although Juana had proved herself more than capable with the iron sights on the Arisaka rifle.

Through the scope, the details of the stands sprang closer. A long, deep overhang protected the stands from the elements, but in this case it created shadows that hid the enemy. The baseball stadium had mostly been constructed out of concrete, which is what made it an appealing defensive position for the enemy. The stands themselves were mainly filled with plain wooden benches, draped with patches of weeds and ivy that had grown up during the wartime years of disuse. A small Japanese soldier could worm himself under a bench while having a commanding view of the baseball field. The entire baseball field spread below him, like a shooting gallery. With a rifle in his hands, that commanding view made that soldier a very effective sniper.

The challenge was finding him. Or them. There had to be several Japanese hidden away. Maybe even dozens of them. Deke wondered, Where the hell are these Nips?

Finally, one of the Japanese got trigger happy and fired. Deke spotted his muzzle flash.

“Got him,” he whispered to Juana.

He squeezed the trigger and saw the figure of the enemy sniper go limp.

One of the Jap snipers got the bright idea to shoot back and received a bullet from Juana for his trouble.

Beside him, he heard the slip-snick of Juana working the bolt of her rifle. The sound brought a grin to his lips.

By now the rest of Patrol Easy and their Filipino friends would be in position, facing off against the Japanese snipers.

Bases are loaded, Deke thought.

Both sides held their fire, hoping for a target. Deke had to hand it to the Japanese snipers, who had more discipline than he had expected. Maybe they really all were a bunch of damn samurai.

The tense impasse did not last for long. The attack that had been prepared against Japanese positions now began, with soldiers advancing like angry outfielders rushing the mound after a pitch had hit the batter.

Unfortunately, the Japanese had been waiting for this moment. Machine guns opened fire from the dugouts, red tracers slicing the air. A couple of GIs spun and fell into the deep weeds, not moving again. Still more went down, helmets flying off, rifles falling from lifeless fingers. Those who hadn’t been cut down kept running forward, but it was a hopeless situation. The intent of the frontal attack had been to rush the Japanese positions and overwhelm the enemy, but it soon became clear that this strategy was mostly based on wishful thinking.

The Nambu machine guns in the dugouts kept up their ruthless tap, tap, tap until not a GI was standing. Those who weren’t dead lay with their heads buried as deep into the weeds as they could go. Meanwhile, enemy snipers fired from the stadium heights at anything that moved on the baseball field.

From behind the airplane wing, Deke watched it all with a growing sense of rage. The Japanese had turned the dugouts into pillboxes by piling sandbags in front of the entrances, offering just a slit for the machine guns to shoot from. His rifle felt useless against those defenses. Instead, he concentrated on picking off the snipers in the stands. He fired again and again. Beside him, he could hear the sharp crack of Juana’s rifle as she did the same.

Normally, each of the snipers had trained to work with a spotter who could call out targets seen through binoculars while also watching out for any threats coming at them from their flanks or rear. But in this case, the two paired off and work like a team, alternating their fire.

They fell into a steady rhythm, Deke firing, then Juana shooting while he worked the bolt of the Springfield. It was like a one-two punch. Any snipers in the stands who made the mistake of revealing themselves paid dearly. The sniper fire from the stands slackened. Back in the day, vendors might have been selling cold beer up there and tossing out bags of peanuts. Now, the Japanese were tossing out lead.

The sun felt warm and he could smell Juana sweating beside him, the honest clean smell of work sweat. It reminded him of toiling in the fields alongside Sadie.