The Sniper

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
A German sniper trying to stop the Soviet advance at an abandoned farmhouse near a field. What started out to be a simple reconnaissance mission turned into something bigger.

Submitted: January 28, 2017

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Submitted: January 28, 2017

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Sniper

 

The face of him was slightly bearded and eyes brown. He wore a heavy light brown coat and had a hard steel helmet on. On his lap laid a rifle. Didn't matter though, those weren't going to save him. With a slight move of the finger the bullet flew and hit his target. Althaus raised the rifle and made a run for it. By now the Soviet forces have undrestood where the bullet came from. That moment of realization is the time when the snipers run. Those who stay to admire the grotesque they've created die. Snipers who get caught, sadly, live long. Soviets LOVE torturing German snipers.

Althaus left the house and threw himself on the ground. He was on a field. With nose full of mud and grass, he crawled to a nearby fence and looked at the Soviet convoy. Two tanks and atleast thirty soldiers to support them. He rested his rifle on the ground and looked through the scope. Shooting Soviets is hard because one can't undrestand who's the one in charge of small convoys like that one. The lack of leadership in Soviet army has costed a lot of lives and now another one will be taken.

Althaus pressed the trigger again and one Soviet soldier got a bullet in his gut. As a sniper, your biggest weapon isn't the scoped rifle. It's human mentality. Seeing your friend getting shot and screaming of pain ruins the morale and usually the first thought is “Run away and don't look back!“. That's one of the lessons a sniper who has survived the first week learns. Destroy the morale and a whole battallion can be stopped. One bullet at the right time in the right part of body is all it takes.

Althaus rolled to the left, following the fence. Soviets still hadn't noticed him, otherwise he'd already be dead. Again he looked through the scope. Remaining enemies were cowering behind the tanks. The wounded soldier on the ground shrieked of pain and tried to put his red guts back into his body. Useless effort, once your guts fall out you die, as easy as that. Next to him laid the first victim, a bullet wound in heart. The turrets on the tanks were rotating around. Althaus knew that they were looking for him and waiting for him to do the mistake of shooting and giving away his position. He was smarter than that.

Hours passed and still the Soviets were cowering behind the tanks and Althaus hiding, holding his rifle at the ready. There was such stalemate until the German felt ground shaking and heard the roaring of a tank behind him. He turned around and felt relief when he saw the Wehrmacht insignia on the tank. The Soviets tanks also spotted the tank and were starting to face it. German tank shot a shell and with a ricochet it bounced off the Soviet tank's steel. The soviet tanks answered with shots themselves. Both shells hit the German tank's frontal armor and bounced off.

Soviet ground troops started running to a nearby forest and Althaus started picking them off, one by one. The system for him was simple. Aim, shoot, release the bolt so the bullet's shell can fly out, repeat. Then again the German tank shot and with an explosion, one Soviet tank was knocked out. The screams of the burning crewmen inside the tank were very clearly hearable. The other Soviet tank now started driving towards the German one. It seemed that he undrestood, that his armament will not be enough to pierce the German tank's frontal armor at long range.

German tank shot and missed, so the Soviet tank won a few secounds. It stopped a few metres from Althaus's hiding place and shot at the German tank. The shell ripped off half of the frontal armor. One more shot and it would be over for the Germans. Althaus knew it and took a grenade from his belt and ran at the Soviet tank. Remaining russians from the forest opened fire at him but missed. It was known that the Soviets shoot before aiming and hitting a moving target from hundred metres can be hard for unexperienced soldiers. Althaus got to the tank, pulled the grenades' pin and threw it into the tank's turret. Then he jumped off the tank and covered his ears. With a thump, the main armament on the soviet tank was destroyed. Crew from the tank were surprised and opened their hatch to escape. Althaus expected it and shot the head clean off from the first tank crewman. The secound one wasn't as stupid. He baited out the German's shot and then put his head out, pistol in hand and screaming something in Russian. Althaus felt how one bullet pierced his hand and another one his shoulder. From the pain, he fell on the ground, breathing heavily. He searched for his own pistol from the belt and finally got hold of it. There were three alive Soviets who crawled out of the tank. Luckily for Althaus, they thought he was dead. Then Althaus raised his head and hand, opening fire at the remaining Soviets. Two of them fell under his bullets but the third one charged him, knife in hand. Althaus had ran out of bullets so he took out knife of his own. Then the Russian stopped running and a few metres apart they were circling around each other, waiting until one of them makes a move. Then the soviet had had enough and tried stabbing Althaus. The German waited for it and caught the blade under his healthy hand, with another hand he tried to stab the Russian but his opponent used his hand to catch Althaus's knife, which he then started twisting out of his hand. Althaus screamed of pain, the hand his opponent twisted was the hand he got shot in. Russian, mad with anger hit Althaus with his forehead, breaking the German's nose. Althaus fell on the ground but luckily still had his knife with him. He felt blood crawling into his nostrils. In a few secounds there will be a fountain of it.

„You either have a little brain, or big balls to destroying a tank the way you did.“, the Soviet commented Althaus. Althaus undrestood it because he had learned Russian from the Soviet prisoners. He smiled at the Soviet. Germans from their own tank were coming out too, weapons in hand. It seemed that their tank got hit so bad that it was out of action. Althaus knew that the Germans running at them will be too late to save him from the Soviet so he did the only thing he could. He charged at his opponent and ignored the stab to the gut his opponent inflicted on him. The German hit his knife into the Soviet's neck. The hand around the knife in his body loosened and the Soviet soldier fell to the ground, dead.

Althaus didn't feel the pain. He was in too great of a shock. All he could do was look at the knife inside his stomach and see the blood slowly drip out between his flesh and the cold steel. He fell on his knees and looked at the German tank's crewmen running in his direction. Then one of the crewmen raised his rifle and shot Althaus. The bullet pierced his lung and he felt how air gets sucked out of him. As he was drowning in his own blood he heard one of the nearby German soldiers swearing loudly: „Fuck, he wasn't a Soviet, he was one of ours!“


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