Creative Writing: The Republican Sniper

The sniper decides to light the cigarette. “Almost immediately, a bullet flattened itself against the parapet of the roof.” This means that there is danger everywhere, vigilant and waiting for the sniper to make the wrong move, a move that might cost him his life. The informant relays the sniper’s position to the soldiers in the armored vehicle. After shooting both the informer and the soldier on the street, a shot consequently rings out. “ ‘I’m hit,’ he muttered” No matter how well of a marksman he is, he can still be wounded in battle and he has. “The woman’s corpse lay still in the gutter.” The informant would be on the side of the Free Staters as the sniper is a republican; however, since she had acted upon her beliefs, she had been assassinated attempting to flee. No matter who believes their cause is the ‘right one’, there will be casualties and injuries during the conflict on both

r gave up.The IRA Sniper showed determination by staying focused on his job.(O’Flaherty.2) Grounded his teeth to overcome the pain.The IRA Sniper had given away his position by smoking and shooting the informer and turret man.The free stater was able to shoot him when he was.taking these shots.he couldn't lift is rifle and was bleeding.Even though he was in pain he kept going.”His enemy had been hit”(o’flaherty.4).This quote shows determination by the IRA Sniper dressing his own wounded and tricking the other sniper into thinking he was dead.The free stater Sniper gave his position and IRA sniper took a shot and hoped for the best.He was successful.Even though the IRA Sniper was shot,bleeding and tired he was was determined to do his job or die trying.The IRA Sniper showed

Right now I’m in these trenches writing a heart-filled letter for y’all. But these unbearable conditions have been unsettling to me. Everytime I want to get away from the gruesome war, I think about you. The shots of the machine guns, getting exposed to mustard gas, and having to see my fellow soldiers having to deal with trench foot, all makes me feel hopeless of me staying alive. All day and night, we had to be on the lookout. Planes from the sky makes us vulnerable for air attacks. All aside from all of those problems, the one main goal is to one day find my horse Joey. Maybe both of us will somehow meet me once again during or after the war. I’m very sorry to you guys if I don’t make it home alive, but I’m going to make a big promise, never in a day or night, will I forget about you guys.

Hi Mom! Hope you're doing well. I'm sorry that I haven't been writing to you in a while, things have just been pretty hectic here. None of us have been getting any sleep around here because we are all stuck in these trenches and are always on guard. Every morning, we'd get up and look around. We always have to stay in the trenches unless our "leader" yelled "Over the top", which means the call to attack.

only for an hour or two but 1 day a green light gas came threw

Today has been the most eventful day in all my life. I almost got my leg cut off, tried to kill myself, and became a war hero, in line to be promoted to Lieutenant. I cannot remember much from the first battle, in which I almost lost my foot, besides the blinding pain the came during it. I suspect the feeling will not leave me for the rest of my days. Pain so blinding I could not even manage a scream of pain. If was as if lightning had struck me and all the hornets in the world had decides that I was their worst enemy. The torture felt as if it had lasted for hours though only seconds after the attack I passed out and was dragged off of the battlefield. I woke up in the hospital tent, surrounded by bloody knives and surgery instruments, and looked outside to see what was to become my fate, a man hobbling along on one foot, being supported by tree branches alone.

I write to you today from a hospital bed in France. I know that may sound bad, but truly I am one of the lucky ones. I have lost so many friends in this past battle. I am sure you have probably heard news of this back home in England already. The first day of the battle on the Somme was a dark day indeed. I have heard it word here that it could have been one of the bloodiest battles to date. I do not even know how to begin describing the war, but I have to describe it to someone. I would never want to tell my parents of these horrors I am facing; it would be far too much for them to bear. You are my closest friend back home, and I know if it were not for your health issues, you would be here fighting too, so I feel I can tell you about all this. I know I volunteered for this, but I never in a million years could have predicted what war would truly be like. Looking back on it though, we are truly lucky that Britain is a country that relies on volunteer

Both local newspapers began to signal, albeit discretely, that war could be approaching its end. Reports spoke in guarded terms about German difficulties and in the ‘Letters to the Editor’ columns, there were encouraging words, leaving readers in no doubt that a resolution was close. Talk in shops and at church services built on the speculation. When news of the imminent German surrender reached soldiers in the front line it was greeted with silence. ‘We did not cheer,’ one soldier recalled. ‘We just stood, stunned and bewildered.’ He continued: ‘On the stroke of 11a.m. the CO raised his hand and told us that the war was over. Then we cheered, with our tin hats on and our rifles held aloft. For old hands like me, it was funny realising that the day we had waited so long for had come at

Jimin wakes up to the sound of explosions and fire. A thousand and some men meet their demise each day, and Jimin prays at night he’s not one of them. The war rages around him, and he gets off the make-shift bed to get changed into his gear to help out. He caps the patterned helmet and looks at himself in the mirror. His reflection stares back, sad and weary, a youth gone wrong. He smears camouflage onto his face, high on his cheekbones until there is nothing left of him but an empty vessel of war.

After the battle of Somme, I was alone. All the men I had signed up with were gone. There was no time to grieve for them; Our division had to meet up with the others at Vimy Ridge. Immediately, we were handed maps of the Ridge. It was odd. We all had our own map to keep and study and we were explained exactly what to do. We even had to go through a scale model to know the lay of the land. Talk about overkill. It was nerve racking because of our tactic called a Creeping Barrage. After firing shells at the Germans for three weeks straight, we slowly aimed higher and higher while we followed the line of fire slowly. That way, the Germans would not be able to leave the trenches until it was too late. In those days that lead to a victory, Canada

War is unforgiving. He’s seen the bodies scattered around the fields, hastily buried in shallow graves before they begin to fester and rot. He’s seen them shot down before him, bodies hitting the ground and sinking into the mud- whether friend or foe, it matters not. They’ll all die here in the end. All he can do is wait it out, pray to survive until at least this war is over, and return home to a life of suppressing the memories and forgetting the images of men wiped out and dying, forgotten, in these turgid pits of death.

Then he cursed as though he learned it from a manual for sergeants, and his curses merged with the metal slapping air sound of a prop turbine. Dad heard the Bunge’s voice sputter. It sounded as if he stored his anger deep inside him. In order for him to access it, he had to pump it out, using every muscle in his stomach, back, and neck. Sarge cursed, rocking with the effort until his voice became a high-pitched hum.

“I thought this would be a good idea for me. Also I did not want to be drafted.” Before he made this huge decision in his life he worked at a bubblegum factory. When he decided to join the military he was only 18. “I was probably the most nervous person there.” he said. Tom was very brave and Frank his brother was strong. They both went over to Vietnam and they stuck together throughout the war.

I close the door of the elevator behind my husband. Our eyes join, like they have so many times before, and we are motionless; pausing our lives, only for a second. I hadn’t expected him to go out for recruitment. Although I suppose I should have; he’s far too proud to let others fight for him. That is where we differ. I desire safety, and he would go to any length to prove to me that he will always keep me safe, even at the expense of his own safety. Almost like we’re the perfect match of opposites. In this moment of stillness, he looks so much smaller than I remember. Too small to go to war. I long to make him stay somehow. If only our eyes could speak when our mouths are speechless and taken by premature grief. I go to open the door again,

Long ago, when there was no written history, these islands were the home of millions of happy birds; the resort of a hundred times more millions of fishes, sea lions, and other creatures. Here lived innumerable creatures predestined from the creation of the world to lay up a store of wealth for the British farmer, and a store of quite another sort for an immaculate Republican