September 2, 2009

We're Not That Different

One thing that I've noticed over my many years of fencing within the Society is the segregation of the fencers and the armored fighters. It isn't at all uncommon for fencers to think of their armored counterparts as big, dumb stickjocks, just as there are a fair share of armored fighters who see us as nothing more than wire weenies. Now, it's not as bad as it used to be: we're getting more armored fighters doing fencing as well as more fencers trying their hand at armored fighting, but the problem is still there. Especially among the newer fighters.


I wish I could say that our opinion was a reaction to the armored community's view of us ("They don't like us? Well, to heck with them!"), but no. Historically, it's the other way around. In the early days of fencing, we (yes, I'm including myself) looked at the differences between fencers and armored fighters. We saw that they wore metal and fought with sticks while we wore cloth and fought with steel. They were whack-heavy while we focused on the thrust. They were heavy, while we were light. And we saw that these things made fencing more difficult - after all, armored fighters don't have to dial down their hits to where their opponents barely feel it, they just bash each other as hard as they can.


Here's the thing: fighting's fighting. It doesn't matter what style you do, the basics are the same. You don't believe me? Let me tell you a story. Back when I was with the 163d, we were heading off to do a Combatives (hand-to-hand) class and to motivate us, our sergeant said that whoever did the worst would have to go clean weapons afterwards. He then began going through our section, weighing the odds for each of us. Now, even though S1 and S4 are usually considered REMFs, we weren't exactly the paper-pushers you might think. Out of the 7 of us, we had 3 11B , an 11C, and a scout. Leaving me as one of only two members of the group not in combat arms. Needless to say, odds were pretty good that I'd be the one cleaning weapons. When the sergeant mentioned that, I replied, "But I fence!"


I'm sure you can imagine the results: everyone started laughing. Well, we got to the class (my first Level II class), and I found myself helping the other members of my section. It wasn't because I was an expert in Combatives. It wasn't even because of some belt I earned (I know just enough Aikido to fall without killing myself). It was my fencing. You see, footwork is footwork. And what's a punch but a thrust without a sword?


Like I said: fighting's fighting. You want to know the difference between armored fighting and fencing? Armored fighters learn to put power into their attacks and fencers learn to take power out of theirs. The difference between a good armored shot and a tip cut? Six inches and power. Between a heavy hit and a draw cut? The power. That's it. Oh sure, there are some conventions that are different: they allow body contact, and their forearms and lower legs are off-limits, but the basics are the same.


So back when fencing started getting a toe-hold in Artemisia, we fencers were doing our best to shoot ourselves in the foot. It was bad enough that our failing to see the similarities kept us from going to the armored fighters for help, but our putting ourselves above them did an incredible job of alienating them. I mean, think about it: it's only within the last few years that we've started to see any real sort of crossover between the two fighting styles.


We're finally starting to get beyond the playground games which hampered our attempts to legitimize fencing, but we're not out of the woods yet. Armored fighting has been around in Artemisia for a lot longer than fencing. We need to learn to recognized not only the traditions of armored fighters, but also the immense wealth of knowledge stored in that great body. Yes, their ways are different, but we can still adapt them to our needs.

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