"William Forstchen - Crystal Warriors 1 - Crystal Warriors" - читать интересную книгу автора (Forstchen William R)

Mark fell in at the back of the column, running alongside the Japanese captain.

The Chinese gave a shout of triumph as their comrades crested the opposite hill. Within seconds a light
machine gun opened up on the fugitives, stitching a line of tracers up the slope. A Japanese soldier in
front of Mark crumpled with a loud grunt as a bullet ricocheted off a rock and struck his helmet a
glancing blow.

"Nishida!"

One of the Japanese privates was bent over his stunned comrade, trying to help him up. Mark looked
over to his captor. Ikawa yelled at the soldier who had stopped, then ran back to help the private pick
up his comrade. Together they started off towards the narrow defile that offered their only hope.

Mark felt as if his lungs were about to burst. Every breath was an agony of fire. Fifty yards, thirty
yards--the machine-gun bullets whined around them. Another Japanese went down, his head smashed
like an overripe melon, and the radio on his back a shattered ruin. Overhead there was a sharp
crack-whine: The Japanese in the defile were opening up with cover fire.

He stumbled into the protection of the rocky path where the rest of the men, Japanese and American,
were bent in exhaustion. The officer and private finally came in, dragging their dazed comrade and
dropping him behind the protection of the rocks.

The captain shouted some quick orders in Japanese. His men stood, loaded their weapons, and laid
down a pattern of fire that slowed the Chinese column. Kochanski came up behind Mark.

"Damn it, Captain," Kochanski whispered to Mark, "there's less than twenty of them. Once we get out of
this scrape they'll finish us off or hand us over for interrogation. Let's jump them while we have a chance."

As if sensing their conversation, the Japanese officer turned away from the firing line and came up to
Mark.

"Don't even think about it. You're in trouble just as bad as we are."

Mark eyed his captor closely. He was taller than Mark had expected. His deep-set eyes seemed to look
straight into Mark. The officer had a casual, almost relaxed stance, strangely different from the accepted
image of an Imperial Army officer.

"Where did you learn such good English?" Mark asked, "When I first heard you I thought you were one
of us."
"I studied at MIT before the war. My name is Ikawa Yoshio--Captain Ikawa to you."

"What the hell is going on here?"

"The Chinese are a renegade band left over from the old civil wars. They cut off my garrison six days
ago. I had to pull out, and was trying to withdraw to our lines, but they flanked me this morning. We
were being pushed into a pocket when you so conveniently arrived to divert them, giving us the time to
gain this defile."

"Why didn't you just kill us or leave us to them?"