In his short stories and novels, the author Liam O'Flaherty illustrates the impact of various events on human psyche. 'The sniper', an extremely tightly written and gripping story, proves to be no exception to this. In this short story the author illustrates the havoc disaster and loss that warfare wrecks in human lives. Through the central figure of a sniper the author brings out the futility of violence and shows how it destroys the lives of those who unleash it themselves.
The story is narrated from the third person limited point of view. In the long twilight of a summer day in Dublin when the moon beams were piercing through the fleecy clouds and casting a faint light, there was heavy firing around the besieged Four Courts. The two conflicting groups namely the Republicans and the Free Staters were indulging in a civil war in Ireland for establishing their supremacy over the city of Dublin. The Republican sniper, a crack shot with his gun, perched himself on the rooftop keeping a close vigil on the enemy hiding on the opposite roof.
He had a rifle laid beside and a pair of binoculars slung over his shoulders. He had the thin and earnest face of a student, but his eyes were profound, thoughtful and fearless. His determination and dedication to his cause could be visible from the cold gleam in his eyes that characterised a fanatic. He was eating a sandwich greedily as he had not eaten anything since morning. He quenched his thirst by having a draught of whisky and in spite of being fully aware of the risk he could not resist the urge to have a puff of cigarette. Immediately on seeing the flash a bullet struck itself against the parapet. Just having another whiff he quickly put off the cigarette. Quite wearily he peeped over the parapet and invited another bullet that went past his head. He noticed the opposite direction it rushed from.
He rolled over the roof, almost levelling his eyes with the top of the parapet, but found nothing as his enemy, another good shot like him, was well-concealed. Just then an armoured car approached. He grew excited and was desperate to shoot at the 'grey monster' inside the turret. Considering the futility of that effort he restrained himself. Thereafter an old lady in a torn shawl came across the street and talked to the man in the turret; she was an informer and pointed to the hideout of the sniper. But no sooner did the machine-gunner stick his head out of the turret than the sniper shot him dead. He also fired at the woman and her lifeless body fell into the gutter.
At that crucial moment a shot ran out from the opposite roof and his rifle was knocked against the roof. He was shot in his right arm. Blood was gushing heavily through his sleeve and he dressed his wound with implements from his first-aid packet. He ripped the bullet open with his knife. He felt numbness as if his arm had been severed. A violent fit of pain ran through him. Then he lay still and watched the armoured car retreating with the machine-gunner’s head hanging lifeless over the turret.
Considering the impossibility of his flight in broad daylight he thought he must kill the opponent and make his escape in the darkness. But he could not use his rifle owing to his wounded arm. He devised a plan. He put his cap on the muzzle of his rifle and stuck it out for grabbing the enemy’s attention. Immediately a bullet pierced the cap. Then he dangled his unwounded arm holding rifle over the parapet lifelessly and after a while dropped his rifle down to the street.
The enemy sniper fell into the deception and came out in the open taking the Republican sniper to be dead. At the crucial moment, the sniper fixed his aim and despite the unbearable pain and considerable distance of fifty yards he shot his opponent right in his head and watched his mutilated body fall to the street below.
This pathetic sight affected him intensely. He was overcome with pity, fear and remorse. His lust for battle was exhausted and out of sheer frustration and exasperation he cursed himself and the cause of war. He flung his gun to the roof. A bullet whizzed past his head bringing him back to normalcy. Then out of curiosity he ventured to discover the identity of the dead sniper. He undertook great risks and when he finally turned over his corpse, to his utmost horror, he saw his brother’s face.
Thus, the shocking incident clearly brings out the tragic irony of the situation. The identity of the killed induces one to think about the havoc loss of lives wrought by warfare. The author, thus, drives home the universal message that violence is but useless and self-consuming.
It wrecks havoc in the lives of its perpetrators who blindly dedicate themselves to the cause of warfare. The sniper in this story had to pay the heavy price of his brother’s life to come to this vital realization. Perhaps, through this story, the author also meant to expose the hypocrisy lying behind the hollow sham that warfare is. For the pleasure of selfish warmongers young lives get nipped in the bud and those who remain alive get disillusioned. Herein lies the universality of the theme of the story and the timelessness of its appeal.