Alchemist, warlock and soldier all in one
Yes, in our area such a person was called a gunner. Either a man at a gun, or a man with a gun, but somehow that's how the nickname came about. The first chronicle records of its use artillery In the territory of the Grand Duchy of Moscow, where many of us live today, date back to the late 14th century, specifically to 1374–1380. But back then, there were no cannon as such, only arquebusiers. It was only later that the arquebus degenerated in size and evolved into a hand-held weapon. weapons.
The Pushkarsky Prikaz, which oversaw large-arms matters in Rus', emerged sometime between 1550 and 1570. The first documented mention is in 1577. In 1701, the Pushkarsky Prikaz was reorganized into the Artillery Prikaz, following a decree by a certain bombardier named Pyotr Alekseyev, aka Pyotr Alekseevich Romanov, the Russian Emperor Peter the Great. Incidentally, the emperor's bombardier rank speaks volumes of Peter the Great's respect for the cannon industry.
But story Artillerymen are a completely different story, but gunners, also known as bombardiers, also known as büchsenmeisters, who were very important figures on the battlefields of the 14th and 15th centuries – that’s who we’ll be talking about.
The ruler of Burgundy, Duke Charles, nicknamed the Bold (called "the Wild" by his enemies), who spent exactly 25 of his 44 years at war, devoted great attention to developing his artillery, which he expressed both in gold ducats and in recruiting the finest gunners. This helped Charles to confuse Europe for many years, until the Duke encountered the Swiss, who cooled his hothead to the temperature of the surrounding environment at the Battle of Nancy, where he died in battle along with his army in January 1477.
So, the Burgundian army was armed with about 300 guns of various calibers. This is a huge number, considering that at its peak, the Burgundian army numbered up to 50,000 men.
And documents from those times have brought to us the financial obligations of the Duke of Burgundy to his soldiers.
It's all quite approximate, because each duchy could then mint its own coin, so Burgundy, located between Holland and France, used both the French gold franc and the silver Flemish patard.
So, according to the ordinance (what we understand as a price list) of 1473, a knight with two horses and a squire received a whopping 18 francs per month. That's 46,5 grams of gold.
A private pikeman received 2 patards in silver, which was equal to 3 francs through the monetary unit sol (1/20 franc).
A pikeman or archer received 4-5 pâtards or 6-7 francs.
But the master bombardier received not only gold, like a knight, but also 10-12 francs a month!
To give you an idea, with this money you could buy:
- 1 knight's horse.
- 3-4 cows.
- 30 sheep.
- 6 barrels of wine (a wine barrel then had a capacity of 180-200 liters).
Of course, no one spent their entire salary on wine, but the idea itself is impressive.
Moreover, as you understand, the mortality rate among bombardiers was significantly lower than that of pikemen who stopped the enemy’s knightly cavalry, but nevertheless, gold was not spared for them.
For the Middle Ages, all this was strange; there was a certain disproportion, but it explains everything important about the attitude toward gunners in the 15th century. They weren't just soldiers—they were carriers of a technology that no one really understood, everyone wanted, and practically no one could reproduce without their participation.
"Carrier of technology" for the 15th century is, of course, a very cool word, but nevertheless, it is absolutely true.
"Bombardier," "gunner," "Büchsenmeister"—the words varied in different languages of the era, but the essence was the same. A person who knew how to handle a gun: how to load it, how to aim it, how to avoid blowing themselves and others around them up.
For those who want to get a feel for the spirit of the era and the attitude towards the masters of artillery, I recommend the book by the German writer Willy Bredel, "The Vitalier Brothers," which tells precisely about the events of the 14th-15th centuries in the Baltic.
In the 14th and 15th centuries, artillery was just becoming a part of the arsenal of European armies, so gunners were a cross between artisans and military specialists. Many of them came from foundries and blacksmith workshops: someone with a knowledge and understanding of metal could easily master the chemistry of gunpowder, which together made them a gunner.
Given the level of literacy at the time, training was purely practical. There were no academies, no systematic treatises—or almost none: a few early German "Büchsenmeisterbücher," manuals on artillery, appeared only in the late 14th and early 15th centuries, and they were written more to preserve professional knowledge than for mass instruction. A gunner, meanwhile, learned from a master, working alongside him as an assistant, porter, or gun cleaner.
This is precisely what made the profession valuable and made the gunner himself indispensable. Knowledge was in the mind, not in a book.
In Muscovite Rus', gunners were also a distinct class: gunners were one thing, and gunners were another. Gunners included zatinchiki (shooters of large-caliber arquebuses, essentially snipers/marksmen), vorotki (in modern terms, gunners who used gates to rotate cannon barrels), blacksmiths and carpenters, and master craftsmen who made gunpowder, cannons, and ammunition. These craftsmen constituted a distinct corps of the urban population and a distinct category within the fortress garrison.
By the way, in the previous illustration you can clearly see the European collar, which, on command from the gunner, turns the gun frame.
People of the gunnery rank settled in special city settlements (Pushkarskie) and were subordinate to the siege commander, whose duties included organizing guard duty and the defense of the fortress.
The gunners were also well-paid. For their service, they were entitled to cash and in-kind (bread and salt), as well as land plots and space for residential buildings. The grain allowance was modest; in the article on the strelets, I cited the quantities of rye and oats they received, but this was a guaranteed amount (110–120 kg) received from the state, not including the amount grown on the allocated plot of land.
In addition to their salary, gunners also received certain privileges: exemption from taxes and the right to engage in trade. As the saying goes, whatever you want, as long as you know your business.
But to understand why the gunner received such benefits, one must first understand how exactly he worked.
Medieval firearms of the 14th and 15th centuries were fundamentally different from the cannons of later eras. Large "bombards," the primary siege weapons, were often not monolithic: they were assembled from forged iron strips, held together by rings, like a barrel.
An example of a bombardment from those years that miraculously survived to this day.
The barrel of such a cannon wasn't completely uniform, and each gun had its own unique characteristics. What worked with one cannon didn't necessarily work with another of the same type. More accurately, it didn't work at all. The approach to each cannon was strictly individual.
Gunpowder itself was a variable that constantly affected shooting. Before the invention of "granulation," a technique that produced uniform granules, gunpowder was a fine powder of coal, sulfur, and potassium nitrate. It would separate during transport (the heavier components settled to the bottom), absorb moisture, and change its properties depending on the weather. Two seemingly identical powders could produce different results.
A gunner knew his gunpowder. Literally. An experienced gunsmith could determine its condition by touch, smell, and color. He knew how to properly mix the powder if it had separated, and how to dry it if it had become damp. This knowledge was practical and difficult to impart. Literate individuals were few in this environment, so knowledge was passed on, as in a workshop: from teacher to apprentice.
We've more or less figured out the gunpowder. We took a measure, poured it into the barrel, and rolled in a cannonball. We waded it, that is, loaded the wad, which is important, especially when shooting at negative aiming angles.
Aiming a gun sounds simple. Especially today, when an iPhone duct-taped to a mortar barrel produces fantastic results as a ballistic computer.
But in the Middle Ages, in the absence of firing tables and standardized loads, in the absence of ballistic computers, the gunner relied on experience and intuition: he raised the breech to a certain angle, determined by him, and the cannonball landed where it was supposed to. He took a crosswind into account, effectively taking a lead. And so on.
The god of war was very... leisurely. Cannons were primarily used in sieges of fortresses, and those were very leisurely and monotonous affairs. If an army was conducting a siege—and it was in siege artillery that medieval cannons reached their greatest significance—a cannonman's workday was very tedious.
Rise before dawn. First of all, check the guns. After each night of standing in the open, it was necessary to ensure that the barrel was not damp, that the carriage had not sagged on the soft ground after the overnight rains. A "damp barrel" is no joke; it's a fact of life. The barrel, which was made of metal strips held together by hoops, could easily become waterlogged during a nighttime downpour. When fired, this water turned to steam, which burst through the joints. Then, the powder gases would rupture the barrel. In short, these cannons, which were not made of solid metal, were quite capricious.
The carriage, the wooden structure beneath the gun, was perhaps the most vulnerable element of the system. The wood deformed under load, loosened under recoil, and deteriorated from moisture. The gunner probably cared for the carriage's wood more closely than the gun itself. Indeed, wood is a seasonal material and was more exposed to the elements than the barrel itself.
Then the preparation of the charges began. Gunpowder was measured out in a standard dose for a given gun using special measuring cups. An overcharge could rupture the barrel—and such accidents are well documented in chronicles from the 14th and 15th centuries. There is a well-known case of several Scottish gunners being killed during the siege of Roxburgh in 1460: an overheated cannon exploded, taking the life of King James II himself, who was standing too close. An undercharge could drop a cannonball on the heads of their own men, short-firing.
Right in the foreground of the linocut, a gunner is shown taking out cartridges (bags) with measured portions of gunpowder.
Well, then the shooting at the enemy fortress began.
Firing was slow. Between shots, the barrel was cooled by dousing it with vinegar or water and cleaning it with a swab—a wooden brush on a long pole—to remove carbon deposits and unburned gunpowder. Metal temperature mattered: a hot barrel expanded, and the projectile interacted with it differently than with a cold one. After several hours of firing, the gun required a longer cooling period, otherwise the cannonballs would fly in the wrong direction. Conversely, in cold weather, the barrel required one or two warm-up shots.
The intensity of fire was low by modern standards. A large bombard could fire several shots a day—for it, that was already active work. Lighter guns fired more frequently, but not by much. The main value lay not in the rate of fire, but in the destructive power of each cannonball or stone block that hit its target; everything depended on what was loaded into the gun.
Gunpowder recipes also varied; virtually every gunner had his own, tailored to his specific weapon. Gunpowder, a mixture of coal, sulfur, and saltpeter, was a well-known formula: "15-10-75" (15% sulfur, 10% coal, 75% saltpeter). Nothing complicated, it would seem. However, in practice, gunners varied the proportions based on the quality of the specific ingredients and the intended use. Different compositions produced different combustion rates: faster for small guns, slower for large bombards, otherwise the barrel would rupture.
Furthermore, the gunner had to consider the quality of the components. Sulfur, coal, and saltpeter, taken from different regions, naturally worked differently. A gunner had to be a highly skilled chemist—or, more accurately, an alchemist in those days—to understand how a particular composition would work. And, of course, to be able to tailor the mixture of components to a specific weapon.
In those days, one gunner typically tended one gun, with a crew of anywhere from two to a dozen assistants. Cannons were cast or assembled individually.
There were also secrets to gun maintenance. How to clean the touchhole without risking accidental ignition of residual propellant. How to tell when a barrel is starting to crack from the inside: by the sound, by the change in recoil. How to handle damp propellant, and so on.
This knowledge was passed down orally in those days and jealously guarded. A gunner, moving from one employer to another, took with him professional capital in the form of knowledge of the processes occurring in a cannon barrel. This is why, in the wars of the era, there were cases where the defection of several experienced gunners to the enemy changed the balance of a siege. Not physically, but technologically.
And so the Swiss, having received Charles the Bold's cannons as trophies, were unable to use them. Almost all the gunners remained on the battlefield. A very small number of survivors found themselves serving the French crown, the Swiss cantons, and the German princes after the Battle of Nancy. Technological dispersal was as real a consequence of military defeat as territorial losses.
Conversely, when an artillery specialist worked long and fruitfully for the good without interference, he usually achieved significant success.
Jean Bureau, the French cannoneer to King Charles VII, who served the king in the 1440s, has gone down in history. Jean Bureau not only fired bombards well, but he accomplished even more: he systematically rebuilt French artillery, standardizing calibers and establishing a regular supply of gunpowder. And not just gunpowder, but a virtually standardized mixture, ground in mills in a single location, where the ingredients were brought from the same places.
That is, this approach provided the main thing - an understanding of how the composition will work and where the core will fly.
It was Bureau guns that decided the outcome of the campaign in Normandy and Guienne in 1449-1450, during the final stages of the Hundred Years' War. English troops, relying on traditional archers, found themselves under fire from guns that, while not as accurate as English arrows, could reach significantly further than even the most experienced archers.
Jean Bureau was ennobled and became a baron, and his title came with substantial land grants. In principle, this was the maximum a commoner could receive. In reality, it was a direct monetization of technological superiority.
Another example, closer to home, is a Hungarian military specialist named Orbán, originally from Braşov in Transylvania, who is famous for casting a massive cannon named Basilica for Sultan Mehmed II the Conqueror, which took part in the siege of the Byzantine capital of Constantinople in April-May 1453.
Here is the barrel of this bombard, the Basilica, which is now in the Turkish Museum
Thanks to Orban's artillery, the city was captured by the Turkish army on May 29, 1453. However, he himself died during the siege when one of his bombards exploded.
There's a nuance, though. According to Greek and Turkish sources, Orbán first offered his services to Constantine XI, but they couldn't agree on a price. He then went to Mehmed II, who paid him considerably more generously, cast several fearsome cannons for the sultan, which he used to breach the walls of Constantinople, and the city was captured.
True, there are sources that say Orbán lost his head in a more prosaic manner: Mehmed II, having learned that the gunner had also negotiated with his opponent, ordered Orbán's life shortened. To avoid further embarrassment, so to speak.
In short, while the war was going on, the gunner didn't complain about poverty. And after the war, he didn't complain either, although his life wasn't quite as comfortable. Medieval guns and their crews were simply valuable assets, treasured between wars. After all, if these assets weren't cherished and nurtured, they could easily fall into the hands of tomorrow's enemy, significantly complicating the life of the former overlord.
A gunner was never without work in peacetime. Idleness has always bred unnecessary thoughts, so it's better for a gunner to be busy. So the chief gunner oversaw storage, performed maintenance, and trained assistants. In the municipal arsenals of large cities like London, Paris, and Venice, this was a permanent position with a decent salary.
Storing the guns was straightforward and required only a few conditions. Bronze guns—the most expensive and high-quality—were relatively resistant to corrosion, but still required periodic lubrication with wax or grease to protect them from moisture. Welded iron bombards were significantly more vulnerable: rust attacked the welds, and if not regularly maintained, the gun became not only dangerous but often punished the gunner.
During peacetime, gun carriages were stored separately, in covered areas: wood exposed to the elements quickly deformed due to precipitation and sun. This meant that before each campaign, the system had to be reassembled: the barrel had to be installed on the carriage, the mountings checked, and the weather-resistant coating applied.
The best guns had names like "The Butler," "The Sloth," and "Mad Margaret." Each gun was named by its master or owner. "Mad Gretel" is a famous 15th-century iron bombard made in Ghent and now a landmark of the city.
This behemoth was built in 1382. The bombard weighed approximately 16 tons, and its barrel was approximately 5 meters long. Its caliber was 660 mm, its cannonball weighed 320 kg, and it could fire a projectile 2 kilometers. The barrel consisted of 32 iron strips, held together by 41 hoops.
A highly individual piece. And this was essentially the case with every such weapon. Names cemented their individuality: each weapon had its own character, and the gunner knew it as well as a blacksmith knows the product of his hammer. And so the gunners survived, despite the risky nature of their profession.
A defective casting, a crack in the barrel that became apparent too late, an overheated barrel, an overcharge, or improperly mixed gunpowder—all of these led to catastrophic consequences. A gunner, by nature of his job, always stood next to the gun when it fired, and his chances of surviving a barrel explosion were virtually nonexistent.
It's clear that gunners died. And even some high-ranking officials were killed. James II of Scotland was killed by a piece of metal from his own bombard exploding at the wrong time during the siege of Roxborough Fortress in 1460. And the Duke of Angus also took a beating. But this is the most famous case. Gunners, of course, encountered situations, but these were the consequences of their profession. In any case, gunners died far fewer times than infantrymen.
Moreover, a gunner was no less valuable a prisoner than a knight. A knight was ransomed, but a gunner could be lured to your side, and in those days, this wasn't all that difficult. Life, freedom, and a slightly higher salary—and voila, you have a new specialist in the army.
So, during a siege or field battle, artillery positions were a priority target for the enemy. Cavalry raids on artillery positions were commonplace: they could both disable the enemy's guns and capture valuable prisoners. And if such a master, captured alive, defected to the enemy with his wealth of knowledge, that was even more valuable than the ducats received for a knight. Ducats had a nasty habit of running out.
By the end of the 15th century, everything was becoming more prosaic and less interesting: foundry technologies stabilized, gunpowder began to be grained, and artillery became more predictable. Moreover, the Germans had already begun to publish the first printed artillery manuals. The gunner gradually began to transform from a magical healer, a rare phenomenon who understood what others did not, into an ordinary military specialist in the regular army. This was the inevitable path of any technology.
But in the 14th and 15th centuries, in an era when every weapon had a name and character, and every gunsmith carried in his head knowledge that had not yet found its way into books, the gunner was a semi-mystical figure who combined alchemy, knowledge of materials, and metallurgy in military service.
Jean Bureau received nobility and lands. Urban received a generous salary and changed the course of history. Most of the other masters were indispensable on and off the battlefield, but not everyone was so fortunate.
Our gunners lived a more interesting life than their European counterparts. They weren't paid in gold, of course, but everyone could count on a house in the Pushkarskaya Sloboda and a plot of land for food. Plus, the treasury provided rye, oats, and grain wine. Clothing, if you were a Strelets.
Plus, the service of Russian gunners was clearly divided into two parts: “dressed up,” that is, “on duty,” and “town.”
"Attributes" referred to the maintenance of artillery pieces in peacetime and wartime, and the conduct of artillery fire during battles. In fortresses, two men were assigned to each piece of equipment. In the event of an attack, they were to take the position designated by the siege commander in the fortress's defenses. These gunners were the gunners, naturally commanding each piece in turn and assuming command if one was incapacitated.
Naturally, in the event of military action, people from the fortress garrison were allocated to the gun crew.
During peacetime, during their "city" service, gunners not only monitored the condition of guns and equipment but were also involved in such duties as guard duty inside the fortress. Furthermore, as strange as it may seem, gunners and gunnery personnel guarded prisons, powder magazines, and ammunition depots, weapons, and equipment.
It can be assumed that the serf heads did everything to keep the gunners' heads and hands busy and to have no time to think.
In reality, even guard duty didn't take up that much time, and during the long winter evenings, gunners engaged in artisanal work, but in a rather unique way. They were involved in artillery production: they ground gunpowder, made bombs and grenades, and produced fuses. It wasn't forbidden to make fuses at home, but gunpowder and everything else was produced exclusively in arsenals.
The treasury purchased fuses and other handicrafts from the gunners, paying for them in hard currency. This was a very profitable process both for the city, as it replenished the city's arsenal, and for the gunners.
Moreover, in large cities where there were cannon yards, that is, places where cannons were cast (Moscow, Tula, Sergiev Posad, Kolomna and other cities famous for their foundry business), gunners were often involved in casting cannons.
In general, the gunner of the 14th and 15th centuries was somewhat akin to a blacksmith. Grim, isolated men, notorious for their devising of "devil's potions," they were remarkable servants of technological progress. It was through their efforts that the line separating two armies before battle began to widen, it was these men who negated the advantages of fortress and castle walls, it was these men who pioneered all forms of artillery, mortars, and grenade technology.
And it would seem that he was just a man who understood how to properly mix coal, saltpeter and sulfur.
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