Post by phrostphyre on Apr 30, 2011 21:16:15 GMT -5
The two men seemed to blend in against the backdrop of forest around the small town in France. Adolf Hitler was visiting the troops, in order to boost morale after the landings in Normandy. The sniper and his backup were both Scottish; their fathers had both been in the Lovat Scouts during the Boer War and the Great War. The straw-berry blonde one with blue eyes the color of the far north oceans was taller than his companion at six foot three inches, but both were killers. Not murderers, per say, but killers for their nation. Straw-berry, as we’ll call him, nodded to the brown haired Highlander beside him as they crawled forward, olive drab, light gray, and dark brown helping them blend in with the spring forest. Straw-berry’s correct name was Alexander Michael Fraser MacRae. He was a Sergeant in the Twenty-Second Special Air Service, or the Desert Rats. He was on special assignment for this mission: shoot Hitler. His rifle was a German Karabiner 98k, with a telescopic sight manufactured by a German company. It had bullet drop compensation marks in increments of fifty meters, up to one thousand meters away.
Sawney, as Straw-berry was known, crawled forward another meter, then stopped. He propped the rifle up on a log, and put his eye to the scope. The town jumped closer, and Sawney closed his left eye. James Michael MacKenzie stopped next to Sawney and screwed a silencer onto Sawney’s rifle. It reduced the range from a little over a thousand meters, to just under a thousand meters, but they were only eight hundred meters from the town, or half a mile. The blue eye watched as Hitler exited the local headquarters of the SS and smiled just the slightest. He adjusted for bullet drop and wind, and was about to fire when Hitler stooped. The man picked up a child. Sawney swore softly in Scottish Gaelic, but continued watching. Reichsführer Heinrich Himmler appeared next to him. Sawney placed the scope over Himmler’s eye, and pulled the trigger. The muffled puh-tunk of the silencer worked; the only indication the SS and Hitler had that Himmler was dead was the red spray erupting from the back of his head. Sawney swiveled the rifle as he worked the rifle’s bolt to Hitler, and as Hitler dropped the child, time seemed to slow down.
“Sawney, where are you going?”
“I cannot tell ye, my bonny Maggie. If all goes well, I’ll be back in about a week. Just ken that I love ye, aye? If I do die, tell Jamie I’m proud of him.”
The morality of killing Hitler had bothered Sawney only once, late at night as he lay next to his slumbering wife he had left safe in Inverness, in the Highlands, with their eight year old son. Hitler was someone’s husband, friend, son, uncle, family member. The taking of another life wasn’t right, but to save more, Sawney felt, it was justified. It was probably the same reasoning Hitler and his ilk used, but damned if Sawney didn’t believe he was in the right.
Now the morality of it attacked him again while time was slow, and Sawney went with what was right. He pulled the trigger. Hitler’s brain matter exploded against the wall as a Luftwaffe plane flew over head. The plane banked, and began firing its machine gun into the forest as Sawney and Mikey leaped to their feet and began running. Sawney felt the rounds throw puffs of dirt into the back of his legs, and then they entered his back, pushing him forward onto Mikey and pushing him down. Mikey looked once, ripped the identification tag from Sawney’s neck, and began running once more, his silenced Sten slung across his back as Sawney rolled over and began to bleed out into the dirt. His eyes widened at the sight of what seemed to be God and His angels descending, then they glazed over forever, as the grenade Mikey had pushed under Sawney went off, destroying his body, and the evidence of what had happened, forever.
Sawney, as Straw-berry was known, crawled forward another meter, then stopped. He propped the rifle up on a log, and put his eye to the scope. The town jumped closer, and Sawney closed his left eye. James Michael MacKenzie stopped next to Sawney and screwed a silencer onto Sawney’s rifle. It reduced the range from a little over a thousand meters, to just under a thousand meters, but they were only eight hundred meters from the town, or half a mile. The blue eye watched as Hitler exited the local headquarters of the SS and smiled just the slightest. He adjusted for bullet drop and wind, and was about to fire when Hitler stooped. The man picked up a child. Sawney swore softly in Scottish Gaelic, but continued watching. Reichsführer Heinrich Himmler appeared next to him. Sawney placed the scope over Himmler’s eye, and pulled the trigger. The muffled puh-tunk of the silencer worked; the only indication the SS and Hitler had that Himmler was dead was the red spray erupting from the back of his head. Sawney swiveled the rifle as he worked the rifle’s bolt to Hitler, and as Hitler dropped the child, time seemed to slow down.
“Sawney, where are you going?”
“I cannot tell ye, my bonny Maggie. If all goes well, I’ll be back in about a week. Just ken that I love ye, aye? If I do die, tell Jamie I’m proud of him.”
The morality of killing Hitler had bothered Sawney only once, late at night as he lay next to his slumbering wife he had left safe in Inverness, in the Highlands, with their eight year old son. Hitler was someone’s husband, friend, son, uncle, family member. The taking of another life wasn’t right, but to save more, Sawney felt, it was justified. It was probably the same reasoning Hitler and his ilk used, but damned if Sawney didn’t believe he was in the right.
Now the morality of it attacked him again while time was slow, and Sawney went with what was right. He pulled the trigger. Hitler’s brain matter exploded against the wall as a Luftwaffe plane flew over head. The plane banked, and began firing its machine gun into the forest as Sawney and Mikey leaped to their feet and began running. Sawney felt the rounds throw puffs of dirt into the back of his legs, and then they entered his back, pushing him forward onto Mikey and pushing him down. Mikey looked once, ripped the identification tag from Sawney’s neck, and began running once more, his silenced Sten slung across his back as Sawney rolled over and began to bleed out into the dirt. His eyes widened at the sight of what seemed to be God and His angels descending, then they glazed over forever, as the grenade Mikey had pushed under Sawney went off, destroying his body, and the evidence of what had happened, forever.