I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve never paid much attention to the military history of Switzerland. Of course, everyone knows about famous Swiss neutrality. The country hasn’t been involved in a war for centuries. So it felt a little incongruent to learn that military training is still mandatory here.
Almost all Swiss men are conscripted into service at age 18, where they complete basic training and then attend regular refresher courses well into their 30s or 40s. A logical part of that training? Proficiency with their service weapon—which includes annual mandatory shooting practice.
Now, most of you who know me know my history with guns is limited—mostly of the water or Nerf variety. Occasionally, I’ve graduated to heavier artillery, like when a friend once lent me a pellet gun to shoot at a wasp nest. That’s about it.
So when Yvan invited me to join him at the rifle range for their obligatory shooting day, I said yes… albeit a little hesitantly. I was genuinely curious. That’s how I found myself piled into a local French chef’s Renault hatchback with Celine, David, Yvan, and Gaetan, on our way to the range. Most of the plans were lost in translation, but I did catch one very important detail: after shooting, there would be a raclette party.
Now that I was trained for. I may not know my way around a SIG assault rifle, but I’m fully proficient with a raclette machine—at least the Wal-Mart version we have back home. So the deal was: shoot, eat cheese, drink wine, party. Who wouldn’t say yes?
We arrived at the range, and it was… serious-looking. To be fair, this was the first rifle range I’d ever visited—well, technically the second, if you count the time I walked through the RCMP range we helped build back in Chilliwack.
We were all required to show ID, which made sense. That’s when I realized I’d given most of mine to Sheila for safekeeping. No passport, no driver’s license—just my Costco card. Apparently, that was good enough. I must’ve looked sufficiently badass in my Costco photo, because next thing I knew, I was handed a weapon.
My “basic training” was exactly that: a very kind Swiss man who spoke zero English showed me the long pointy side where the shooty part comes out (technical terms), held up a diagram of a rifle sight, pointed toward a tiny row of black squares on the far wall, and nodded. Then he showed me the safety switch, smiled, and sent us upstairs to join the rest of the Swiss snipers.
Now, for those of you familiar with the 80/20 rule, don’t be too horrified. Yes, this all sounds insane—handing a total novice a weapon designed to hit a five-franc coin at 300 meters—but let’s just say some creative license was taken in the last paragraph. Mostly for entertainment. Mostly.
Here’s what’s not embellished: after a brief tutorial and being handed 18 rounds to fire at a tiny A10 target (with a 10 cm bullseye, 300 meters away, iron sights only—no scope, no gadgets), I actually managed to hit the reasonable vicinity of the target 12 times. Not bad for someone who’d never shot a real gun before. Probably not enough to qualify for my Obligatorisches Schiessen, but also not bad enough to embarrass myself—or my friends.
I was feeling pretty good… until I saw the scores of my compatriots, who were casually collecting their marksmanship medals.
Adrenaline still pumping, I headed downstairs—only to find out the best part of the day was still to come.
As we were getting our scores and thanking the woman at the front desk, she turned around, opened what looked like a bank-grade safe, and pulled out a huge half-wheel of raclette cheese, which she handed to Yvan.
I was stunned. Turns out, if you bring five people to complete their obligatory shooting at this range, you get cheese. Incredible.
At that moment, I was genuinely considering signing up for Swiss service. I began wondering what kind of military service might be required to earn free chocolate, or maybe fondue kits.
Yvan explained that he and his friends come here specifically for the cheese bonus. The range, struggling to attract shooters, had introduced the “free raclette” incentive. It worked. Yvan and his crew now make it a tradition: go shooting, earn cheese, and host a raclette potluck the next day.
It’s genius.
And for me, it’s now officially one of the most uniquely Swiss experiences of the trip so far.
