The Sentanced Sniper

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: War and Military  |  House: Booksie Classic


Sniper in WW2 in a unwinable battle against the allies. The Germans suffer a terrible defeat by the hands of the Allies and some routing soldiers get shot in the back.

Submitted: March 26, 2018

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Submitted: March 26, 2018

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It was dark and silent; the fog was depressing the last of my resolve when I saw movement on the front. No-mans-land was no longer that. The enemy flooded from beneath the hill like a plague of locusts, threatening to make knees buckle. My comrades broke down in tears as the horde that was my enemy came flooding out. The odds already looked to be deeply in their favour as our meagre line of seventy-four was faced in three to one odds filled with snot nosed Tommies and a scattering of poorly equipped Russians.

I looked to my right and saw my commanding officer picking up his sword to make an announcement that would fall on deaf ears. We didn’t want to hear about how this so-called fight would be for the glory of The Great Third Reich. Or that we would die honourable and proud. We were sick and tired of honour and glory, tired of the fact that our lives were meagre playthings for our rulers to throw around and break apart as they saw fit. Our leaders are like children squabbling over the newest or flashiest toy. I already saw some of my comrades; the weaker willed ones; start to turn around, start to question whether the potential, though in these circumstances certain sacrifice that was required of them. A couple were already running off and as I watched our CO shot them down and spat on the dirt as if he just took care of a mutt with rabies.

‘Bah, bunch of weak willed, wobbly kneed, traitorous bastards. Better off without them’ he grunted. Without so much as a thought, almost as if it was second nature, he roared a challenge to the world and ran off at the enemy. His courageous, yet suicidal actions appealed to some of the soldiers who had hadn’t seen the horrors of war first hand yet. As they took off after him I picked up my Mauser sniper rifle, thinking that my comrades truly were dense, self-righteous fools that would soon know what it felt like to be gutted like a pig.

I leaned into my scope, looking for the commanders that were leading the assault, seeing the only person waving a sword in the air, I took aim. Held my breath, adjusted, and released. The exhilaration of picking off someone without them knowing was breath taking, I never quite got used to it. I saw his brain splatter off onto his personal guard standing on his left and right. The horror that it evoked in them, and the sudden back pacing that ensued. I took out another soldier before the artillery started, devastating our ranks, and causing even more deserters to show their true nature, though I guess I couldn’t blame them. The so-called glory of the guns didn’t feel so glorious when I was on the receiving end.

I reached for my next bullet and my hand came up empty. I was out. And the enemy was almost through with our forces. I scanned for any remaining comrades and realised that miraculously my CO and my only mate, Mathias were still holding out on their own, I started sprinting down hoping to god that I would reach them in time. More comrades were sucked into the churning mud, too weak to rise back up. I was thirty feet away now, twenty, five, and Mathias was gutted, my only mate, the friend that had bantered and laughed with me. Red hot fury fuelled me as I continued my charge, I speared the soldier that had killed Mathias and kicked his head in as he fell to the floor, wanting to do more to his corpse for his crimes but not having the time I turned around to scythe the other enemy’s but I accidently cut my Commanding Officers achilles, rendering him incapable of moving and sentencing him to a certain death, possibly even torture. I started to cry, I couldn’t see through the tears, my hand went limp under a slice, a bullet pierced my left thigh and I could start to taste blood in my mouth. a berserker soldier ran straight into me, running himself through in the process but cutting my guts open as well making my blood cascade into the roiling mud. I fell to the ground, letting the mud take me as it had all my comrades and Mathias. As I lay there in the mud that strangely smelt of gunpowder and mown grass I realised all my petty feuds were just that, petty little feuds, and as I sank I realised that the mud felt like angles taking me away from this world and into the next.

‘For Fuhrer and Fatherland.’ I spluttered laughing through the pain as I realised this war was as petty as my little feuds. Darkness started to encompass me, and I fell into unconsciousness, soon to be in the grips of death and reunited with Mathias.  


© Copyright 2018 dont judge me. All rights reserved.

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