My afternoon with assassins

It’s frightening but I think I’d make a good professional assassin. Until I almost killed a sniper.

Most people take the RER C train from Paris to visit the Sun King’s chateau at Versailles. I took it and got off at Satory, the following stop, headquarters of the GIGN, the elite police tactical unit of the French National Gendarmerie. Marc, a member of the GIGN, had invited me for coffee at a cafe by the train station. I wasn’t sure why we met here, what I’d learn or if this would be ‘it’. 

A friend in the Paris Homicide police force set this up insisting ‘you should meet him and see where he works’. That morning, the weather - a cloudless June day - the tree-lined streets beckoned and my sandals broke. So I wore terribly not chic flip flops trés Americaine and Marc, surprisingly wore jeans and T-shirt. ‘No photos’ he said, ‘but ask me what you’d like to know’. This meeting had been set up on the fly, very last minute so I confessed my ignorance of what work Marc’s unit did. Somehow I must have passed the test, seemed harmless and ignorant enough, that he said ‘let’s go and I’ll show you.’

So off we drove in his Renault towards Satory’s outskirts to the GIGN hq which is a military base, site of their helipad, barracks and training facilities. Marc’s tour of his work place was off the cuff, seat of the pants and for rule conscious military French stellar and unique - so what I saw was arbitrary and what he showed me selective. How could this happen? Lucky for me, this visit happened a few months before 9/11. This could never happen now with tight security in place. Marc owed my friend a favour, felt curious, gotten off work early that afternoon had time and wanted to show off his elite unit. Right place, right time and the stars aligned. 

Marc introduced me to his squadron leader, the authority and chain of command to introduce a visitor on base. If there was a protocol to follow for a secure military base, it felt loose. 

I discovered that the GIGN are the cowboys, risk takers which you’d need to be to do this kind of work. I learned the GIGN specialise in counter terrorism, special weapons, assault tactics, hostage rescue, VIP protection, paratroop and water operation. The day was quiet and the unit on call were training in another area. That’s when I met a sniper and almost killed a paratrooper at the firing range. Déde, the paratrooper, was a big bear of a man. Huge, dark haired, Gallic nose and with remarkable patience at the firing range. That is until I just about shot him.

The informal firing range, set in an old airplane hangar, held targets. But it was dark, smelled of hay. No one wore eye protection or ear guards. Maybe this was a firing range simulating a real life situation, I wondered. Before I knew it Marc and Déde were offering me a choice of pistols - a Manhurin which all GIGN are issued or a Sig Sauer that the Paris police now use. Decisions. My flip-flops felt every ejected bullet casing on the concrete floor. Not the footwear for a firing range. Had I shot before? Of course but I gave vague details. In reality it had been once with friends at a shooting range near the SF airport.

With Marc and Déde on either side, I steadied my stance, extended my arm, locked on target. Shot. What a kick to my shoulder and hand. Of course, as an amateur I had no control. Tried again and again. Why couldn’t I hit near the target?

Upset I turned to ask Déde what was I doing wrong. Before I could speak, he jumped on me, covered my body as Marc did and grabbed the gun from my hand. Which by the way had been pointing at Déde.

They apologized and so did I, profusely. They must have been regretting giving an amateur a gun. I’d been on the ground, out of commission before I knew what happened. And I’m glad. 

If I’m ever in a hostage situation I want Déde in my corner. Postscript: when I returned home and unpacked my roller bag, my husband noticed my flip-flops and asked if this was a new style. New style? Covering the rubber soles of my pink flip-flops were embedded bullet casings from the firing range at Satory. These had gotten through airport security - your tax dollars at work (:

Cara - Tuesday