"The Sniper" by Liam O'Flaherty (1923)

The longJune twilight faded into night. Dublinlayenveloped in darkness but for the dim lightof themoon that shone through fleecy clouds, casting a palelight as of approaching dawn over the streets and thedark waters of the Liffey. Around the beleaguered FourCourts the heavy guns roared. Here and there through

the city, machine guns andrifles broke the silence of

the night, spasmodically,like dogs barking on lone

farms. Republicans andFree Staters were waging

civil war.

On a rooftop nearO'Connell Bridge, aRepublican sniper lay watching. Beside him lay his rifleand over his shoulders was slung a pair of field glasses.His face was the face of a student, thin and ascetic, but

his eyes had the cold gleam of the fanatic. They weredeep and thoughtful, the eyes of a man who is used tolooking at death.

He was eating a sandwich hungrily. He hadeaten nothing since morning. He had been too excitedto eat. He finished the sandwich, and, taking a flask ofwhiskey from his pocket, he took a short drought. Thenhe returned the flask to his pocket. He paused for amoment, considering whether he should risk a smoke. Itwas dangerous. The flash might be seen in the darkness,

and there were enemies watching. He decided to takethe risk.

Placing a cigarette between his lips, he struck amatch, inhaled the smoke hurriedly and put out thelight. Almost immediately, a bullet flattened itselfagainst the parapet of the roof. The sniper took anotherwhiff and put out the cigarette. Then he swore softlyand crawled away to the left.

Cautiously he raised himself and peered overthe parapet. There was a flash and a bullet whizzed over

his head. He dropped immediately. He had seen theflash. It came from the opposite side of the street.

He rolled over the roof to a chimney stack in therear, and slowly drew himself up behind it, until his eyeswere level with the top of the parapet. There wasnothing to be seen-just the dim outline of the oppositehousetop against the blue sky. His enemy was undercover.

Just then an armored car came across the

bridge and advanced slowly up the street. It stopped onthe opposite side of the street, fifty yards ahead. Thesniper could hear the dull panting of the motor. His

heart beat faster. It was an enemy car. He wanted tofire, but he knew it was useless. His bullets would neverpierce the steel that covered the gray monster.

Then round the corner of a side street came an

old woman, her head covered by a tattered shawl. Shebegan to talk to the man in the turret of the car. Shewas pointing to the roof where the sniper lay. Aninformer.

The turret opened. A man's head and shouldersappeared, looking toward the sniper. The sniper raisedhis rifle and fired. The head fell heavily on the turret

wall. The woman darted toward the side street. The

sniper fired again. The woman whirled round and fellwith a shriek into the gutter.

Suddenly from the opposite roof a shot rang outand the sniper dropped his rifle with a curse. The rifleclattered to the roof. The sniper thought the noisewould wake the dead. He stooped to pick the rifle up.

He couldn't lift it. His forearm was dead. "I'm hit," hemuttered.

Dropping flat onto the roof, he crawled back tothe parapet. With his left hand he felt the injured rightforearm. The blood was oozing through the sleeve of hiscoat. There was no pain-just a deadened sensation, asif the arm had been cut off.

Quickly he drew his knife from his pocket,opened it on the breastwork of the parapet, and rippedopen the sleeve. There was a small hole where the

bullet had entered. On the other side there was no

hole. The bullet had lodged in the bone. It must havefractured it. He bent the arm below the wound, the arm

bent back easily. He ground his teeth to overcome thepain.

Then taking out his field dressing, he rippedopen the packet with his knife. He broke the neck of the

iodine bottle and let the bitter fluid drip into thewound. A paroxysm of pain swept through him. Heplaced the cotton wadding over the wound andwrapped the dressing over it. He tied the ends with histeeth.

Then he lay still against the parapet, and,closing his eyes, he made an effort of will to overcomethe pain.

In the street beneath all was still. The armored

car had retired speedily over the bridge, with themachine gunner's head hanging lifeless over the turret.The woman's corpse lay still in the gutter.

The sniper lay still for a long time nursing hiswounded arm and planning escape. Morning must notfind him wounded on the roof. The enemy on theopposite roof covered his escape. He must kill that

enemy and he could not use his rifle. He had only arevolver to do it. Then he thought of a plan.

Taking off his cap, he placed it over the muzzleof his rifle. Then he pushed the rifle slowly upward overthe parapet, until the cap was visible from the oppositeside of the street. Almost immediately there was areport, and a bullet pierced the center of the cap. Thesniper slanted the rifle forward. The cap clipped downinto the street. Then catching the rifle in the middle, thesniper dropped his left hand over the roof and let ithang, lifelessly. After a few moments he let the rifledrop to the street. Then he sank to the roof, dragginghis hand with him.

Crawling quickly to his feet, he peered up at thecorner of the roof. His ruse had succeeded. The other

sniper, seeing the cap and rifle fall, thought that he hadkilled his man. He was now standing before a row ofchimney pots, looking across, with his head clearlysilhouetted against the western sky.

The Republican sniper smiled and lifted hisrevolver above the edge of the parapet. The distancewas about fifty yards-a hard shot in the dim light, andhis right arm was paining him like a thousand devils. Hetook a steady aim. His hand trembled with eagerness.Pressing his lips together, he took a deep breaththrough his nostrils and fired. He was almost deafenedwith the report and his arm shook with the recoil.

Then when the smoke cleared, he peered across

and uttered a cry of joy. His enemy had been hit. Hewas reeling over the parapet in his death agony. Hestruggled to keep his feet, but he was slowly fallingforward as if in a dream. The rifle fell from his grasp, hitthe parapet, fell over, bounded off the pole of abarber's shop beneath and then clattered on thepavement.

Then the dying man on the roof crumpled upand fell forward. The body turned over and over inspace and hit the ground with a dull thud. Then it laystill.

The sniper looked at his enemy falling and heshuddered. The lust of battle died in him. He became

bitten by remorse. The sweat stood out in beads on his

forehead. Weakened by his wound and the longsummer day of fasting and watching on the roof, herevolted from the sight of the shattered mass of hisdead enemy. His teeth chattered, he began to gibber tohimself, cursing the war, cursing himself, cursingeverybody.

He looked at the smoking revolver in his hand,and with an oath he hurled it to the roof at his feet. The

revolver went off with a concussion and the bullet

whizzed past the sniper's head. He was frightened back

to his senses by the shock. His nerves steadied. Thecloud of fear scattered from his mind and he laughed.

Taking the whiskey flask from his pocket, heemptied it a drought. He felt reckless under theinfluence of the spirit. He decided to leave the roof nowand look for his company commander, to report.

Everywhere around was quiet. There was not muchdanger in going through the streets. He picked up hisrevolver and put it in his pocket. Then he crawled downthrough the skylight to the house underneath.

When the sniper reached the laneway on thestreet level, he felt a

sudden curiosity as to

the identity of the

enemy sniper whom hehad killed. He decided

that he was a good

shot, whoever he was.

He wondered did he

know him. Perhaps he had been in his own companybefore the split in the army. He decided to risk goingover to have a look at him. He peered around thecorner into O'Connell Street. In the upper part of thestreet there was heavy firing, but around here all was

quiet.The sniper darted across the street. A machine

gun tore up the ground around him with a hail ofbullets, but he escaped. He threw himself facedownward beside the corpse. The machine gun

stopped.Then the sniper turned over the dead body and

looked into his brother's face.

"The Sniper" Plot Graph and Open-Ended Question

Step1: Read "The Sniper." As you read, usethe numbers 1 through 10to identify the ten key moments of the story.Put the number in the margin next to the sentence describing each event.

Step 2: On a piece of graphing paper drawan x-axis and y-axis (make sure there are a least ten spaces to the right of the

y-axis).

Step 3: Label each increment of the x-axis 1-10. Each number will represent 1 keymoment of the story.

Step 4: Label the y-axis with the different synonyms of confident (positive) and doubt (negative).

Bynow your graph should look like this:

ironfident,

certain

hope fill

(neutral)

1

imlikeh

doubtful

imattain? ble

Step 5: Now your task is to graph the sniper's reaction to each of the ten events you've chosen. To start determine

how you think the sniper feels at each of your ten chosen moments. Find the point where the feeling you think he has

and the number of the event intersect. Plot a point at that intersection. Continue this process for each event of the

story.

Step 6: Connect each dot to the next in the story.

Step 7: On a separate piece of paper, explain your logic behind your choice for each event. Justify how you think the

sniper felt at each moment. If you say the sniper felt confident at Key Moment 1, explain why. Then continue for each

key moment. Number each explanation 1-10.

Step 8: On the same paper as step 6 answer the following open-ended question with evidence from the text (a direct

quote). Please copy the question on your paper above your answer.

What moment caused the sniper his greatest conflict? Support your answer with evidence from the text.