This week, Punk History fans, we’re talking about bad people who do bad things… for money. And no, I don’t mean lawyers. Back when I studied ‘proper’ history (as opposed to dicking around with the punk version) a lecturer asked, “what is War?” Of course, earnest young students answered “evil”, “wasteful”, “a failure of politics.” The lecturer smiled. “Of course, it’s all of those things. But most of all, remember wars are expensive.”

Follow the money is a solid rule for any historian. Since humans started killing each other in a semi-organised way, standing armies have been eye-wateringly costly. From ancient Greece to Trumpian America, the issues never change: pay, equipment, logistics, domestic political disruption, loss of the nation’s best sons and daughters… no wonder the temptation to buy off-the-shelf armies is strong. Even if the profession of (private) arms has always attracted a certain type of character. The word Mercenary has always been a virtual synonym for rogue, charlatan, thug, adventurer and chancer – and therefore catnip for a punk military historian!

Mercs – the Early Years

Although we now take professional, standing armies for granted, they’re a relatively recent phenomenon. Traditionally armies were made up of levies (basically some poor fucker with a pitchfork) and a small cadre of professionals (knights, housemen and men-at-arms). These would be bolstered with mercenaries (the origin of the word coming from the Latin word merces, meaning ‘pay’).

Sumerian kings were hiring mercs in 2000 BC, and the Pharaohs hired Celtic sell-swords. Everyone’s favourite speedo-wearing uber-warriors, the Spartans, produced accomplished mercenary generals, serving the Persians and Carthaginians. Even the bodyguards of the Byzantine Empire, the Varangians, were Russo-Viking mercenaries. Not content with plundering East Anglia and occupying northern France, the Scandiwegians tabbed all the way to Turkey and Greece to find work splitting skulls for coin. Where did it all go wrong?

1300-1700: The Glory Years

Medieval and Renaissance Europe was nothing but a series of bloody wars interspersed with interesting paintings, poetry and a spot of plague. Religious conflict, nobles and kings kicking off, wars of territorial acquisition and greed… it was like the present-day Middle East but without the sunshine or petrol. And for a mercenary, a time of plenty.  Mercenary companies (called Condottiero, Italian for ‘contractors’) were big business, and none more so than The White Company. A grisly crew of English and German sell-swords, they terrorised France and Italy. It’s eventual leader was an Essex-boy called Sir John Hawkwood. Hawkwood turned the company into a profit-making machine that would make Blackwater blush, switching sides, getting excommunicated, getting un-excommunicated and generally behaving like Lord Flasheart all over the shop. Woof! Hawkwood favoured a mixture of guile and brutality in combat – ambushes, feigned retreats and espionage. I know, he sounds like the average HR manager, but trust me he was worse.

The White Company rampaged across Italy, making so much money Hawkwood invented his own version of the AGC – an entire regiment of notaries, lawyers and clerks to handle all the moolah he was making. When he was 57, Hawkwood married the 17-year-old daughter of the Duke of Milan, stinking rich having hacked and slashed his way to respectability. Which goes to show you can take the boy out of Essex…

Bring me my Switzers (and Wild Geese)!

What is it about neutral countries? The Scandies, Swiss and Irish have always produced outstanding soldiers. Notable mercs in the 1500-1800s came from both Ireland and Switzerland, with the Swiss in demand as royal bodyguards (the line ‘bring me my Switzers’ coming from ‘Hamlet’, the King of Denmark’s troops being Swiss mercenaries). Before finding fame as anally-retentive bank managers, the Swiss were masters of the pike, their infantry in demand across Europe. Unusual tactics included stone-throwing (seriously), Swiss skirmishers known for their accuracy with mountainside rocks. This reputation as stubborn, hardened mountain-men made them a popular choice, many serving in the ranks of France’s armies.

With the Jacobites defeated in Ireland in 1691, many Irish soldiers served in continental armies. These men were the original ‘Wild Geese’, serving in the Spanish, French, Italian, Austrian and even Polish armies. American troops during the Mexican war in 1846 found themselves up against an entire regiment of Irish infantry! Irishmen have a proven history of scrapping with absolutely anybody, even each other; Wild Geese serving the Habsburg empire would sometimes face fellow Irishmen fighting for the other side (although if you’ve ever seen a pub fight in Kilburn you’ll know that’s par for the course).

The practice of mercenary recruitment made illegal in Ireland in 1745, but the continent’s loss was England’s gain – soon they’d start recruiting into the British army, which soon established Irish regiments of its own.

Africa and the Dogs of War

Let’s make a recipe for a bit of the old ultra-violence, shall we? Take a slice of post-colonial mayhem, add a heaped teaspoon of Cold War ideology, a splash of precious natural resources and dust liberally with gnarly WW2 veterans looking for fun and profit. Voila! Now you have the Central Africa of Mad Mike Hoare, Foreign Legion veteran Rolf Steiner and French lunatic Bob Denard (in his 60s, Renard came out of retirement for ‘one last job’, trying to invade Comoros with thirty mercs in rubber dinghies).

The mind boggles at the craziness of UN soldiers being sniped at by former foreign legionnaires leading African auxiliaries, of private armies deposing and replacing governments at the whim of superpowers and multinationals. The mercenaries themselves were cutthroats and adventurers straight out of pulp fiction – ex-SS men, criminals, dispossessed Boers, drunks and more than a few professional soldiers who simply adored action. Others, like Renard, cited their hatred of Communism as Africa became a proxy battlefield between the West and USSR. Mike (Mad Mike) Hoare, who sadly passed away in February 2020, ended up as technical advisor on one of my favourite films, ‘The Wild Geese’, before getting into a spot of bother in 1981, er, trying to invade the Seychelles.

Military Inc – the rise of PMCs

I tried to get my head around the different Private Military Companies, like Blackwater which has been renamed about a hundred times (seems like they get caught doing something naughty so re-badge themselves). Then you’ve got Aegis, Sandline, Olive, Executive Outcomes… some are still going under other names, some aren’t… it’s a smoke and mirrors world. I even wrote a novel about the subject, please buy it.

I was also surprised to see G4S is technically one of the world’s largest PMCs which probably explains the state of the world right now. Some bloke in a high-viz vest and a silly hat is probably stopping people from leaving Syria because they didn’t fill in the right form.

The typically 21^st Century thing about PMCs, though, is the boring crap they do. Training. Admin. Intelligence. Logistics. Consultancy. I know a few people on that circuit, and none of ‘em are slotting baddies with poisoned crossbow bolts. The White Company it ain’t.

Still, governments view PMCs as a viable, and politically palatable, alternative to using their armed forces for the dirt-under-the-fingernails stuff in high-risk areas. The US, it’s said, spent $320 billion on PMC services in 2017. It’s annual defence budget? Nearly $700 billion.

The ‘Forever Wars’ in the Middle East are exactly the type of low-level conflicts where PMCs might shine, but what about the re-focussing onto what the Staff College types call ‘Near-Peer Adversaries’? That’s to say wars with countries with access to decent armies and air forces? PMCs aren’t going to get tanks and artillery any time soon… are they? Although, given Russian tactics in places like Ukraine, using psyops and skulduggery, maybe there’s still a place for the 21^st century merc… except this time he’ll be armed with a laptop.