Short Story: The Sniper's Farewell

Short Story: The Sniper's Farewell

Auld Tam Gourley lay in the bed nearest the door of the ward. He had fallen into the coma that would end his days - only a few hours were left to him. To any who observed, he was entering that state of death with dignity. He breathed in deeply and exhaled loudly, and slight nervous twitches showed upon his tired, old face. His mind was active and reliving all his life’s experiences, and as each event occurred, so the relevant expression appeared upon his face.

“Mr Gourley.” The student nurse’s voice tried to break into his coma.

“Mr Gourley.” He heard but could not react.

‘Poor girl,’ he thought. ‘She is trying so hard, and she’s so young.’ He could feel the coolness of her comforting hand on his forehead.

`“Mr Gourley, I’m going to wash your face now,” the voice said, just before the wash sponge touched his face.

The roughness of the towel rasped sensations through the skin of his face, causing his eyelids to flutter.

“Mr Gourley. Sister, Sister, Mr Gourley’s coming round.”

“Nurse, leave the poor man alone,” said the old Nursing Sister. “You’re young, girl, you’ll learn. He’s in a final coma. He’ll not ‘come round’, as you put it, nor can he hear you. Just let him slip off in peace.”

“Oh, Sister,” was all the nurse could find to say.

Tam lay, his brain registering every word she said, but he was physically unable to signal a word of comfort to the young nurse.

“Poor child,” he thought. “She’ll surely just have to learn, as we all have to.” A pleasant thought entered his mind and he forgot what he’d heard.

“Tam Gourley, you wicked devil, how dare you!” chastised the girl he had made eyes at all night. “Just because you’re all dressed up to go to the front line and fight for King and Country, it doesn’t give you the right to take liberties.”

“Come on, Agnes, give us a kiss,” said Tam, pulling her closer.

The ensuing struggle caused him to want her even more. His strong hands encircled the whalebone-corseted waist like a vice. He kissed her with abandonment, until there was no fight left in her and she gave herself to him.

Sweet Agnes’s surrender wasn’t the only memory to be relived in his hospital bed. The cold mud of France penetrated the thick woollen overcoat he wore as he lay out in no-man’s land. He had crawled out under cover of darkness until he found himself a concealed firing position. His task was to remain hidden for the next six hours, his orders to kill a senior German officer who was known to be visiting the front line.

Tam Gourley was one of the Regiment’s finest shots and had undergone intensive training to perfect his killing art. Not so the art of making love, he thought, as his mind went back over the events with Agnes once again. Up to that moment, they had both been virgins, but that hadn’t mattered. When he had left her, he had felt man enough to fight a dozen wars.

Hour after hour dragged slowly past as he lay motionless. Any movement on his part could betray his position. His body was slowly becoming colder and wetter, until only the warmth of the passing of urine heated his legs.

“Nurse.”

“Yes, Sister?”

“One of the things that occurs when the body is in a terminal coma is that the bladder loses control. Make sure he is kept dry and comfortable, and don’t fuss unduly. Now just change his sheets and pads.”

“But, Sister…”

“Do only what you are told, Nurse.”

“Aye, Sister.”

‘God,’ thought Tam. ‘I surely would enjoy a pint and a whisky right now.’ It was a pleasant passing thought as he lay entrenched in the mud. He did not feel hungry - only thirsty. But any movement would be spotted, so he couldn’t attempt to drink from the water bottle.

“His lips seem dry. Can I moisten them, Sister?”

“Yes, Nurse. It won’t do him any harm.”

Tam pressed his dry lips down on the mud and enjoyed the comfort of the liquid that he dared not swallow. The ground could contain poison of some kind, such as gas, old blood, decayed flesh or vermin droppings. ‘If only I could feel again the moisture of your lips, Agnes,’ he thought, ‘I would thirst no more.’

Risking a slight movement of his head, he looked over to the German lines.

“Nurse, wipe Mr Gourley’s eyes, and clean the spittle from his face.”

“Aye, Sister.”

The wind was blowing directly into his eyes, the freezing blast making them water, but he could just see a movement, the fussing of junior officers and senior NCOs organising their men into position for the expected arrival of an officer from General Staff.

“This is what I’ve been waiting for,” thought Tam, as slowly he eased the rifle forward, inch by inch, each minute movement carefully planned. The rifle he was using was the latest, high-powered Lee Enfield 7.62 calibre, with recoil springs housed in the butt cushion. His ammunition was extra grained powder, and the bullet was made of tungsten steel - designed to penetrate a steel helmet. the telescopic sights were honed in to strike at the point of aim. Tam had spent many hours and countless rounds of ammunition on the range to ensure his sights were perfectly aligned.

With the rifle fitting snugly into his shoulder, he sighted down the telescope to find his target.

“Nurse.”

“Aye, Sister?”

“Stay with Mr Gourley, I fear the time is near. Is this your first death?”

“Aye, Sister,” she answered, sadly fearful of what was expected of her. Her training had covered this eventuality: now she had to face it in practice.

“Well, Nurse, this is one duty that training school can do nothing to prepare you for. You’ll see plenty more of the same in your career, but remember your first will govern how you handle it in the future.”

“Yes, Sister.”

“Right you are then: give of your best.”

Tam lay tensed up now, the cold and dampness forgotten. Only the next few minutes ahead would count - his first assassination. Looking through his telescopic sight he surveyed the enemy trench works. He could see soldiers much like himself: dirty, unshaven, uniforms covered in mud, clasping rifles with bayonets at the ready. Only the colour of the uniform differed. Was it right that such men should kill one another? Several officers moved along the trench and approached the forward viewing ramp. Then Tam spotted his target: a tall portly man with short-clipped hair protruding from under his spiked helmet, his puffy heavy-jowelled face sporting a large walrus moustache. The collar decoration on his uniform revealed the fact that he was a staff officer of very high rank. This was it.

Tam held the rifle rock-steady as the cross hairs of his sight came to rest on the centre of the man’s face.

“Hush, Mr Gourley. You are with me. We’ll see this through together.” said the young nurse, taking Tam’s right hand She stroked it gently, mainly to calm her own nerves.

Tam felt his right hand go itchy and rubbed it on the stubble of his beard. His mouth felt dry. He re-sighted onto his target. Gently, without disturbing his aim, he applied pressure to the trigger. Slowly the trigger moved back until the first pressure was taken up. Tam re-adjusted his sight, tightened his grip on the rifle, and added the final pressure to the trigger. The rifle bucked into his shoulder and the loud report of the detonation shattered the silence of the morning air. Through the telescopic sight, Tam saw the bullet strike the target.

The nurse sat staring into Tam’s face. At the moment of death, she was sure she had felt the pressure of a finger movement against her hand.

“Is it over, Nurse?”

“I fear it is,” answered the nurse.

“Did it go well?”

“It did, Sister. It was a first time for both of us.”

“Then he is at peace, and you are a much better nurse.”

“Aye,” was all the nurse could say.