Here and there through the city, machine guns and rifles broke the silence of the night, spasmodically, like dogs barking on lone farms. Republicans and Free Staters were waging civil war.
His face was the face of a student, thin and ascetic, but his eyes had the cold gleam of the fanatic. They were deep and thoughtful, the eyes of a man who is used to looking at death.
The sniper thought the noise would wake the dead.
The Republican sniper smiled and lifted his revolver above the edge of the parapet...his hand trembled with eagerness.
Then when the smoke cleared, he peered across and uttered a cry of joy. His enemy had been hit.
The body turned over and over in space and hit the ground with a dull thud. Then it lay still.
The lust of battle died in him. He became bitten by remorse…he revolted from the sight of the shattered mass of his dead enemy. His teeth chattered, he began to gibber to himself, cursing the war, cursing himself, cursing everybody.
He felt a sudden curiosity as to the identity of the enemy sniper whom he had killed…Perhaps he had been in his own company before the split in the army.
Then the sniper turned over the dead body and looked into his brother’s face.