The Sniper.

I'm a freshman in high school. I know my level of understanding literature is way above the level that I'm put at. Tonight in my English class, I had to read a story. The story was titled, "The Sniper". It was not at all, a bad portion of the book itself. From the part I read this book is clearly about a guy in the army. The author calls him, the sniper. He's hiding on top of this building, trying to refrain from being caught or discovered. He peers over the ledge a few times and takes swigs from his flask. For a moment he debates on whether or not he should take a hit of his cigarette. The flame from the match makes him perceptible. He gets shot in the left forearm. He lays there misrepresenting himself as dead. The shots stop. He quickly picks up his gun and fires at his enemy. Dead. He had killed the other man. He rolls over to poor his whiskey over the injured part of his arm, opens a pocket knife and covers it with a cotton ball and ties a part of his sleeve over it to contain the blood from oozing out even more than it did. He peers over the wall and detects an old women walking over to a car. She tells a man in the car where he is hiding and points to make it clear as to what the conversation was like. They start shooting. The sniper, gets shot again. He dangles his arms over the wall and drops his sniper down to the floor. The speed away. The sniper crawls to cascade down to the ground. He hides behind a corner, listening. There are faint shots in the background but all is quiet in his area. He hustles across the street to see who the man was. Maybe he knew him. About half way across the street, a machine gun fires at him. The sniper throws himself face first to the floor to, once again, make it seem as if he was dead. Fortunately, he was next to the man he shot. He rolls the body over. To his astonishment, he was staring at the dead lifeless face of his own brother.