Against the Tide Imperial: The Struggle for Ceylon (The Usurper's War: An Alternative World War II B by James Young (story reading txt) 📕

barked in Japanese. The petty officer immediately followed orders, turning towards the lieutenant with a questioning look on his face. It was an error, as the American chose that moment to spit again directly into the man's face. Enraged, the Japanese NCO immediately turned to strike the American once again, then remembered his orders.

"Your monkey's pretty well trained," American enlisted man sneered.

Yuta ignored the man, looking at the commander.

"I have demonstrated that I will control my men," Yuta said conversationally. "Will you do the same courtesy, commander..?"

The senior American officer started to crack a smile, but the pain of moving his visibly bruised jaw stopped the gesture. Instead, he opted to shake his head.

"Sure, complain about a little spit in the face after your sailors worked us all over," the man replied angrily.

He has a point. Still, it is dishonorable to allow oneself to be captured. The man should not be surprised at his treatment.

A runner came rushing back from the Akigumo's bridge and bowed to Yuta, then approached to talk lowly. The officer nodded grimly twice, then spoke rapidly in response to whatever he'd been told. The petty officer bowed, and turned to move back towards the destroyer's bridge.

"Well, commander, it would appear that the time for niceties is over," Yuta said apologetically. "Vice Admiral Yamaguchi is demanding we obtain information regarding your forces."

Isoro watched as the American officer's eyes narrowed. Behind him, the man who had spat in the petty officer's face sneered in contempt, even as the other three Americans began to look on in apprehension.

"Commander Joshua Jacobs, service number 724…"

The man's recital of his name, rank, and service number was interrupted by a sudden, violent punch to the kidneys. In moments, the scene on the Akigumo's stern was bedlam, as the two enlisted Americans immediately attacked the nearest Japanese sailor and one of the ensigns screamed in terror.

What kind of men are we?

The sick taste in bile in his mouth increased as he watched the spat upon petty officer kick his assailant repeatedly in the groin. The American shrieked, clutching himself as he fell to the deck with a two burly sailors grabbed his shoulders.

"Bind them this time!" Yuta shouted angrily.

Isoro stomach turned as the petty officer took a step back then savagely kicked his target again, causing the other man to begin vomiting. Even as rope was brought forward, the petty officer produced a pair of pliers from his pocket.

What are you doing?

Isoro watched in horror as the man grabbed the American gunner's hair and pulled his head back. Before he even realized it, Isoro strode forward and punched the petty officer hard in the face, stopping him from whatever he was doing. The man flew backward in shock, eyes wild as he began to step forward then suddenly realized what he was about to do. Coming to attention, he quickly bowed to Isoro.

"The man is no good to us if you rip his tongue out," Isoro snapped. Even as the words left his mouth, he considered his justification.

Yes, what a brave samurai I am.

"I see you have a knack for this," Yuta said from behind him.

Isoro tried to ignore the sound of the youngest ensign sobbing uncontrollably in fear as it carried across the stern. Several of the Japanese sailors chuckled at the man, his flight suit obviously soiled from where he had wet himself and eyes wide with fear.

"What is your name?" Isoro asked, his English halting.

"Sir, don't tell them shit," the man lying on the deck in front of them gasped. "Let the little yellow bastards figure it out."

Before Isoro could reply, Yuta gestured with a grunt. The petty officer he had struck nodded, dropped the pliers, and produced a small knife. Before Isoro's horrified eyes, the petty officer sawed off the enlisted sailor's pinky. The American let out a hoarse gasp, then to Isoro's amazement started laughing.

No one will mistake that for humor.

Seeing blood start to pour from the man’s hand, Isoro looked away so that he did not vomit.

"Fuck you, you little Jap bastards! Fuck you!" the man screamed before someone shoved a gag into his mouth.

"M-m-my name is Ensign Stan Van Horn," the soiled officer said, his voice quiet. The man licked his lips as he looked at where Commander Jacobs lay prone.

I hope he is not dead, or this was an exercise in futility.

A Japanese sailor came rushing from belowdecks with a pail attached to a rope. Isoro watched the man throw the metal bucket into the Akigumo's wake, only to have the object yanked from his hands by the water pressure from the destroyer's passage. A nearby petty officer screamed at the sailor, striking him with an open slap across the face that made Ensign Van Horn jump.

"Will you stop hurting these men if I tell you what you want to know?" Van Horn asked, looking at where one of the other ensigns was attempting to scream past his own gag. The two sailors gleefully attempting to dislocate his shoulder seemed focused on their task, and Isoro was surprised that Van Horn's accosters were not similarly attempting to harm him.

Wait, they are deferring to me.

"Yes, yes we will," Isoro said.

I am now not just a bystander, but an accomplice.

"But only if you are quick about it."

"There are four carriers," Van Horn began.

"Yuta, stop your men!" Isoro shouted in Japanese, then turned back to Van Horn.

"Go on," he said as the destroyer officer came over. The American sailor who had lost his pinky attempted to yell something past his gag, but was immediately silenced by the knife being placed next to his eye.

"Go on," Isoro repeated quietly, using the tone one would to calm a scared child. He locked eyes with the petty officer holding the gunner's head.

Over the next five minutes, Isoro quickly came to realize just how grave the Kido Butai's danger was. Quickly explaining the important things to Yuta, he questioned Van Horn with a level tone, double checking the ensign's answers by asking things