Horruit Proelio The wind blew its northern breeze across the towering grass. A welcomed feeling in the sweaty, confined space of the mask and protective gear. The open field with clusters of densely packed tress was a sniper’s dream and the place of my ambush. With a sniper I could see, aim, and fire, killing him before he could exhale his last breath. Hanging his head in defeat, the recently departed soul would go back to the house and wait till the battle was over, plotting the revenge he now hungered for. This was how Airsoft worked. Last man standing wins. Most wars, as we called them, consisted of twenty or so boys dressed in so much camo an owl would not be able to tell the fake from the real. AK’s or M4 assault rifles draped across shoulders, pistols at the hip, black masks showing no fear and the man behind giving no quarter. This was the only way to survive, anything less and you were a snowman in summer. Today was different though. Instead of the usually slayer type game play it would be me verses two others. I had my perfect ambush, but I had no sniper and this would be a game of patience. …show more content…
Minute passed upon minute, leaving only still silence to excite the nerves and whisper to conspire against you. They were like shadows tormenting a forgotten child in a dark alley. On cue, the clouds blocked the sun, adding to the gray hue November usually brought. The cramp in my back worsened as the rest of my motionless body lay in the field. I resembled an old, unnoticed, building around the rising skyscrapers; invisible from ground level. All I could do was scan the surrounding for a sign of movement. There! There at last he came creeping out of the dark shadows of a menacing pine and crouched forward. His presence was a welcome relief; however, if I did not hit this relief he would hit
The night was tempestuous and my emotions were subtle, like the flame upon a torch. They blew out at the same time that my sense of tranquility dispersed, as if the winds had simply come and gone. The shrill scream of a young girl ricocheted off the walls and for a few brief seconds, it was the only sound that I could hear. It was then that the waves of turmoil commenced to crash upon me. It seemed as though every last one of my senses were succumbed to disperse from my reach completely. As everything blurred, I could just barely make out the slam of a door from somewhere alongside me and soon, the only thing that was left in its place was an ominous silence.
The mood of the story is dark and weary. In this scene the sky is gloomy and there are Republican and Free Starter soldiers fighting in the Irish Civil war, “The long June twilight faded into the night. Dublin lay enveloped in darkness but for the dim light of the moon that shone through the fleecy clouds.. machine guns and rifles broke the silence of the night, spasmodically” (O’Flaherty 1). Although the mood of the story is creepy and dim for the most part, it is silent with the sudden sounds of guns firing. As the story progresses, the sniper’s emotions begin reflecting on his actions. He begins to feel guilt and remorse for killing someone and the mood shifts to tension and violence.
The theme of The Sniper was the civil war and how war can destroy a man both in body and mind for the rest of his life. Liam O’Flaherty suggests the horror of war not only by presenting its physical dangers, but also by showing its psychological effects. We are left to wonder which has the longer lasting effect-the visible physical scars or the ones on the inside? The theme of The Most Dangerous Game was hunter hunted and shows the author's point of view on how one who has intellect can overcome one who has intelligence or instinct. The two stories are similar in showing that even under pressure a man can use his reasoning to keep him alive.
The sniper is injured and must find a way to escape, and that way is by killing his brother. "He stooped to pick the riffle up. He couldn't lift it. His forearm was dead. "I'm hit," he muttered" (112). The sniper would have never been shot and injured by his brother if there was no war. War tears families apart as the entire time two brothers are fighting against each other without even knowing it. "The distance was about fifty yards--a hard shot in the dim light, and his right arm was paining him like a thousand devils. He took a steady aim. His hand trembled with eagerness. Pressing his lips together, he took a deep breath through his nostrils and fired. He was almost deafened with the report and his arm shook with the recoil" (113). The sniper had to...
In conclusion, the author’s use internal conflict, mood shifts, and imagery to convey how dehumanizing effects of war can change a person, also one’s relationship with loved ones. The author’s use of mood shift in the story foreshadows that the sniper will hurt or even kill relations with someone, but this comes to be known that it will come back to heart him more than it did the other person. As at the start is war foul and cruel as we thought or is it uses as humans that make war such evil things.
In “The Sniper” the conflict is man vs man, which means main character is tasked with killing his enemy, but it proves to be quite a challenge. Even though there were many challenges the sniper followed through with his job and persevered even after he was shot in the arm. Wanting to kill his enemy, stay alive, and be one step closer to ending the war was his main goals. Being brave, he took off his hat, placed it on his gun, and raised it above the edge of the roof. Instantly the enemy shot at it and the sniper, pretending to be dead, waited until the enemy got up for him to shoot him. He did some quick thinking and, with determination, handled the conflict quite well.
The Sniper exhibits qualities that are both experienced and amateur. O’Flaherty describes the Sniper as “a man who is used to looking at death”, from which we can infer that the sniper has seen many deaths, since a person who is exposed frequently to death gradually grows senseless to it. In the passage, “There was a flash and a bullet whizzed over his head. He dropped immediately.”, we can tell from the “dropped immediately” that the sniper has exceedingly quick reflexes, something usually apparent in those who are experienced in the techniques of war.
Mr. Liam O’Flaherty portrayed the theme of the short story, “The Sniper”, by implying that you have to do what you have to do. When in war, Soldiers must remove all emotions so that nothing can hold them back from doing their job. If a soldier is placed in a situation where he must kill to stay alive he needs to be
Novelist and short story writer, Liam O’Flaherty grew up in a village on the western coast of Ireland. He was a good student when he was young, and when he grew older, he enlisted in the British Army. Later, after enlisting in the army, he began to write stories while he was in the war. Many of Liam O’Flaherty’s short stories about war, have become very popular throughout the world. One of his greatest, most popular stories, “The Sniper” has some of O’Flaherty’s experiences of being in the war. The short story, “The Sniper”, was published in the London paper, The New Leader, on January 12, 1923. Liam O’Flaherty was a World War I veteran. He wrote most of his stories while in the war. The stories he wrote, became very popular after the
Bullets, of course, are another big danger in war. The author shows with bullets how close you are to death in a war. In the event where the sniper lights his cigarette, he is twice almost killed with the “enemy” sniper’s bullets! The sniper’s own bullets are quite dangerous, too, as seen when he easily kills the tank commander and citizen woman informer. After shooting them, the “enemy” sniper sees him, and “His fore...
I was enlisted in the army on 23 June 1999 as an Infantry rifleman in 4th Battalion Singapore Infantry Regiment. Initially I hated the army and signing on in the army never cross my mind. I hated the army for many reasons. The regimentation, waking up very early in the morning everyday, no freedom and sometimes even been punished by the Sergeant for no apparent reason. I only decided to take up Army as a career after I ORD in 2001 when I actually miss being a soldier. The army life is so full of adventure, toughness and camaraderie.
I slowly trudged up the road towards the farm. The country road was dusty, and quiet except for the occasional passing vehicle. Only the clear, burbling sound of a wren’s birdsong sporadically broke the boredom. A faded sign flapped lethargically against the gate. On it, a big black and white cow stood over the words “Bent Rail Farm”. The sign needed fresh paint, and one of its hinges was broken. Suddenly, the distant roar of an engine shattered the stillness of that Friday afternoon. Big tires speeding over gravel pelted small stones in all directions. The truck stopped in front of the red-brick farmhouse with the green door and shutters. It was the large milking truck that stopped by every Friday afternoon. I leisurely passed by fields of corn, wheat, barley, and strawberries. The fields stretched from the gradient hills to the snowy mountains. The blasting wind blew like a bellowing blizzard. A river cut through the hilly panorama. The river ubiquitously flowed from tranquil to tempestuous water. Raging river rapids rushed recklessly into rocks ricocheting and rebounding relentlessly through this rigorous river. Leaves danced with the wind as I looked around the valley. The sun was trapped by smoky, and soggy clouds.
Walking, there is no end in sight: stranded on a narrow country road for all eternity. It is almost dark now. The clouds having moved in secretively. When did that happen? I am so far away from all that is familiar. The trees are groaning against the wind’s fury: when did the wind start blowing? Have I been walking for so long that time hysterically slipped away! The leaves are rustling about swirling through the air like discarded post-it notes smashing, slapping against the trees and blacktop, “splat-snap”. Where did the sun go? It gave the impression only an instant ago, or had it been longer; that it was going to be a still and peaceful sunny day; has panic from hunger and walking so long finally crept in? Waking up this morning, had I been warned of the impending day, the highs and lows that I would soon face, and the unexpected twist of fate that awaited me, I would have stayed in bed.
With a slow dawn I remembered. Had I slipped or had he hit me with something? My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as I relived the figure advancing towards me. It was dark. The street light that shone from behind the man in the faceless thickset man in the grey hoody ensured anonymity. Now he was coming. How long had I been here? My head ached as I struggled to assess my surroundings.
I looked up at the black sky. I hadn't intended to be out this late. The sun had set, and the empty road ahead had no streetlights. I knew I was in for a dark journey home. I had decided that by traveling through the forest would be the quickest way home. Minutes passed, yet it seemed like hours and days. The farther I traveled into the forest, the darker it seemed to get. I was very had to even take a breath due to the stifling air. The only sound familiar to me was the quickening beat of my own heart, which felt as though it was about to come through my chest. I began to whistled to take my mind off the eerie noises I was hearing. In this kind of darkness I was in, it was hard for me to believe that I could be seeing these long finger shaped shadows that stretched out to me. I had this gut feeling as though something was following me, but I assured myself that I was the only one in the forest. At least I had hoped that I was.