BOOM! (1/4)

All that I’ve had to endure during this camp, Thérèse’s craziness, Elias’ immaturity, Yann’s complaining, the way Mathieu grinds his teeth in his sleep in the tent...

All that was worth it for today.

After posting at the Spirit I started walking up the mountain to the Fort des Sallettes. As soon as I exited the east gate of the city I saw six of the Régiment du Passé standing around the old guards’ quarters. Although the event didn’t start for another hour, I wanted to get a good viewpoint of the soldiers as they filed up the path to the fort. I got to the fort at 2:45, the soldiers marched up the path and promptly locked themselves inside the fort at three. The crowd of tourists that had followed them up were left with me standing outside wondering what was going to happen next.

Finally at 3:40 three tour guides showed up, organized the tourists into groups, and the fort was opened. All the tourists filed into the courtyard, but the guides said nothing.

Musket barrels poked out of the inward-facing gun slits of the fort’s lower firing gallery.

And then they fired, one after the other. And whatever sound effects you’ve heard used for musket fire in the movies is fake; muskets are LOUD. You can feel the impact of the sound against your body, and if more than two fire in quick succession your ears ring. I can’t even imagine how loud a full-scale battle must have been.

After that the three groups of tourists separated to take different routes through the fort, but I hung around the courtyard to watch the “cadets” of the Régiment go through marching drills. Most of them were younger than me, probably around 17. And that made me think, how many soldiers in all the wars of history were 17? The enlistment age for the Romans was 15, and I don’t even think medieval armies cared about age as long as you could wield something sharp. Even in the eighteenth century alone, how many boys exactly like these were being taught to march in time and fire muskets, only to have themselves blown apart in battles like Yorktown and Assaye? The thought was kind of eerie for me.

I thought I was going to be the only photographer there, but the Régiment had their own, dressed exactly as they were. Out of mutual respect, we tried to keep out of each other’s way while shooting the other soldiers. His girlfriend was there too, and she looked damn hot in a bodice. But as has been iterated countless times in Yachting circles, most girls look good in a bodice. Later, while everyone else was busy I glimpsed to two of them having a photo shoot by themselves in the Upper Gallery.

I think he’s the French me.

I sat in on one of the lectures given by one of the senior officers on the history of the regiment they were playing. It was formed in 1735 as a Scots regiment when the French tried to invade England via Scotland and reinstate the Stewart dynasty. After the campaign failed, the Scotsmen were relocated to Briançon. I noticed then that all the soldiers were wearing fresh-picked thistles in their tricorns.

The officer went on to explain how the troops learned all the steps of firing a musket by constant drills, so that in battle they never had to think about what they were doing. After another soldier demonstrated the fourteen movements involved in drawing the ramrod and placing the cartridge, the officer explained that a good soldier could repeat the sequence in twenty seconds, and an expert veteran in ten. Y’all remember how when we learned American history back in elementary school we were taught to be impressed that the colonial Minutemen could fire one shot every sixty seconds? No wonder we only beat the British once the French got involved.

I was also reminded of an idea I had discussed earlier with Niels when he remarked that the Fort des Sallettes would make a cool CounterStrike map. How come almost all the shooter games we have now are set in WWII or later? Wouldn’t it be cool to have an eighteenth-, or early nineteenth-, century first person shooter? Being only able to fire once every fifteen or so seconds with a musket, taking longer to reload with a far more accurate Baker rifle, or having the choice to charge blindly with a rapier, would dramatically change the FPS tactics involved. Or, knowing the impatience of the average 13-year-old gamer, maybe it would just result in everyone chasing each other with swords and bayonets.

This day was the perfect crowning touch to my month in the Alps.