5 Strange Military Traditions from Around the World

When you envision a military, the images that likely come to mind are those of discipline, order, and precision. Yet, beneath the surface of stern commands and synchronized marches lies a world teeming with eccentricities. Militaries, despite their structured facade, have always been a breeding ground for unique traditions and practices that might raise an eyebrow or two. Today, we dive into this lesser-known aspect of the armed forces as we explore five of the most bizarre military traditions from around the world.

Buckle up; it’s going to be an intriguing journey!

A German Legacy

If you have a look at a photograph of soldiers in distinctive spiked helmets, what nation springs to mind? We are going to go out on a limb here and assume it was probably Germany – and for good reason too, as there is arguably no greater symbol of Germany’s past Imperial glory days than the iconic, but long since abandoned spiked pickelhaube helmet.

What may prove shocking however is the fact that this picture is neither an old colourised still, nor a group of dedicated reenactors, it is in fact a contemporary photograph of a modern military; now we already know it can’t be a photograph of the German army in that case, so this raises a question – from just what country do these soldiers hail?

If you guessed Chile of all places… well done, you were right! This answer then naturally raises another question, namely… why? Why did Chile, a nation 12,500km away from Germany, end up adopting the country’s distinctive style for itself?

The answer to that question goes all the way back to the 1879–1883 War of the Pacific. During this conflict high-ranking Chilean officers such as Emilio Sotomayor and Patricio Lynch were acutely aware that their army suffered from one major flaw, namely that, all in all, it was just a bit crap. To solve this problem, they sought significant reforms in strategic planning, officer training, and overall organization.

This concern was also shared by President Santa María, who in particular was most concerned about the threat of imminent conflict with neighbouring Argentina. Consequently, they all put their heads together and started thinking about how Chile could improve its military situation as rapidly as possible, and given the nation’s rather poor military infrastructure and traditions at the time, the answer was obvious: get help from the Europeans.

Following this decision, the call went out to all of Chile’s European ambassadors to start buttering up their local militaries and seeing what interest they could muster. One nation in particular, smelling potentially lucrative contracts, proved most willing to help – Germany, and the two nations formally began co-operating in 1881. Chile, for its part in this arrangement would receive all the help a developing nation could possibly need, and Germany, for its part, would receive the one thing a burgeoning world power needed, lots and lots of cash. The relationship proved to be most cordial, with both countries strongly enjoying the bounties of their newfound friendship.

A particularly pivotal moment in the partnership occurred in 1886 when Captain Emil Körner, an esteemed graduate of the Military Academy in Berlin, was appointed to lead the Chileans’ training. Alongside him, 36 German officers were assigned to mould the latest intake of officer cadets in the Chilean Military Academy. The subsequent years saw three significant phases of transformation and reorganization of the Chilean military, inspired largely by the Prussian model.

It is also worth noting that Chile’s emulation wasn’t superficial; it sought a comprehensive adoption of German practices, extending beyond mere aesthetics. There was a conscious effort to imbibe armaments, conscription methods, officer recruitment and instruction, military doctrine, and even general staff organization. Additionally, attention was given to military logistics, promotions, retirement regulations, and of course… aesthetics, with marching styles, uniforms, helmets, parades, and military music all being changed to the German style.

Of all the aesthetic changes Chile adopted however, the 1904 Pattern Uniform particularly stands out, as this is when they adopted the striking “Pickelhaube” helmet – characterized by its pronounced spike, the helmet became an emblematic representation not just of the German army, but of the Chilean army. The colour choice of Chilean uniforms also shifted, adopting the field grey reminiscent of German regiments.

This new style stuck throughout the whole of the 20th century, thus creating the at face value bizarre photo we saw at the start of the chapter. Chile’s choice to retain such traditional attire might seem eccentric in an era dominated by camouflage and tactical gear, but it is worth noting that at this point the style is largely just reserved for dress uniforms, with the day-to-day gear of the Chilean Army being completely modern and up to date – think British soldiers looking fancy outside of Buckingham Palace, but wearing camouflage everywhere else and you have the idea.

It also appears that the style is here to stay, as for the Chilean soldiers themselves, these uniforms serve as a daily reminder of their rich history and the transformative journey their predecessors embarked on, plus, if we are being frank, they do look damned smart, who would want to get rid of them!

The Whiskey War

In the chilly waters of the Arctic, Canada and Denmark, until recently, participated in one of the quirkiest military disputes ever recorded – the Whisky War. What made this tradition unusual however, was that it was a war fought with the clink of whisky bottles and the fluttering of flags rather than gunfire, and all over Hans Island, a tiny island of just 1.2 square kilometres that sits between Canada’s Ellesmere Island and Denmark’s autonomous territory, Greenland. On paper, this nondescript island wouldn’t be expected to stir passions, yet it became the backdrop for almost half a century of light-hearted rivalry between the two peace-loving nations.

The origin of this peculiar conflict dates back to 1933. The Permanent Court of International Justice, functioning under the League of Nations, declared Hans Island to be Denmark’s territory. However, as the League lost its global influence and relevance, its rulings became similarly inconsequential.

For a while, this legal uncertainty was fine, both Canada and Denmark were a tad busy with a little thing called World War II, and so, neither country was particularly bothered about paying the island, or in that their maritime borders at all, any heed. After the war however, the matter of the boundaries between the two nations once again came to the fore.

In 1973, both nations sat down and very cordially clarified the borders between Ellesmere Island and Greenland, but they overlooked one small thing… Hans Island, which fell within the international radius for both Canada and Denmark, thereby setting the stage for the Whisky War.

The war’s name might evoke images of naval blockades or military standoffs, but as we already know, the ‘war’ was a largely tongue-in-cheek affair marked by a series of friendly provocations – Hans Island was after all, a strategically meaningless and resourceless lump of rock in the middle of nowhere, neither country actually cared.

The ‘war’ formally began in 1984 when Canada, in a bold assertion of sovereignty, landed troops on Hans Island. They hoisted the maple leaf flag, buried a bottle of Canadian whisky, and returned home, momentarily expanding their nation’s territory by almost a square mile. Not to be outdone, Denmark’s minister of Greenland affairs embarked on a similar expedition. On reaching the island, he replaced the Canadian flag with a Danish one, planted a bottle of Copenhagen’s best schnapps, and left a cheeky note that read, “Welcome to Danish Island.”

This kept on happening, and over the years, the hoisting of one’s flag and burying of booze became a well-established, if peculiar military tradition between the two countries. Dozens of expeditions by both sides would find their way to the rock, each marking their visit with tattered flags and generously left behind bottles. Visitors would describe the scene as a sea of flags and notes, a testament to this long-standing ritual.

By 2018 however, half a century after the first whisky bottle was placed, both nations felt the need to bring a formal end to this tradition. A joint working group was established, tasked with charting a peaceful resolution. After extensive deliberation, in June 2022, a deal was struck. The island was to be divided, with each nation receiving a share, marking the world’s longest maritime border at 3,882km.

In hindsight, the Whisky War stands out not as a confrontation, but as a testament to the idiosyncrasies of international diplomacy. It’s a heartening reminder that conflicts don’t always need to be resolved on battlefields. Sometimes, a bottle of whisky, a fluttering flag, and a sense of humour are all that’s required… at least when nothing actually meaningful is at stake!

The Penguin in Chief

Ladies and Gentlemen, we would like to introduce you to Sir Nils Olav III, Major General of the Norwegian Army. No, not the guy holding the sword, the little fella stood in front of him… the penguin! This isn’t a bit by the way either, Sir Olav is actually a fully commissioned Major General in the Norwegian Army – allow us to explain.

It may shock you to discover that Sir Olav doesn’t actually carry out any duties for the military, and in fact his role is purely ceremonial, with his commission being a tradition that dates all the way back to the 1961 Edinburgh Military Tattoo—a grandiose showcase of military might and culture. As the Norwegian King’s Guard executed their drill display at the event, one Lieutenant Nils Egelien’s curiosity led him to the zoo’s penguin colony, an innocent fascination that culminated in the Norwegian King’s Guard adopting a penguin during their subsequent visit in 1972. The penguin was affectionately named ‘Nils Olav,’ a tribute to Lieutenant Egelien and Olav Siggerud, the contingent commander of the Guard at the time.

But here’s where the tale takes a delightful twist, Nils Olav actually had quite the glittering career after he was conscripted into the Norwegian Army. He started out as a lowly lance corporal, before going on to display conduct so becoming of the uniform that he typically found himself promoted every time the King’s Guard graced Edinburgh Zoo. Sadly, however, the original Nils Olav passed away in 1987, and so his rank, and awards, were bestowed on another penguin, Nils Olav II, to carry on his legacy.

He stayed at his post until 2008, when he left this mortal plane to join his forerunner in penguin heaven. Following this, once again, the mantle was passed to another, and subsequent Nils Olav III is still going to this day. Rather hilariously, the rank passing from penguin to penguin, and his typically being promoted with every visit has led to the situation getting a bit out of hand, hence Nils Olav III currently being a Major General, and technically speaking, one of the most senior officers in the Norwegian Army.

If you recall, at the start of this chapter we also referred to Nils Olav III as a ‘sir’, making him a knight of the realm and technically minor nobility… but knighthoods aren’t handed out by the military… so how did that happen? The answer to that question lies in 2008, when he was approved for a knighthood by none other than King Haral V himself, with the King’s commendation recognising Nils as being quote: “in every way qualified to receive the honour and dignity of knighthood.”

So, by this point you are probably wondering why would a stern military institution engage in such playful tradition? It’s a heartening mix of camaraderie, humour, and a dash of the unexpected. It exemplifies the spirit of the Norwegian King’s Guard—serious professionals who aren’t above a light-hearted diversion, forging one of the most enchanting military traditions known to man. Plus, after all, soldiers are human under the uniform, they think a commissioned penguin is just as cute as you or I.

The Line Crossing Ceremony

In a world where military disciplines often involve rigid routines and stern expressions, it’s refreshing to uncover customs that border on the bizarre – there’s something humanising about them. One such tradition, whose origins stretch back over four centuries, is the “Crossing the Line” ceremony of the Royal Navy. It’s a curious mix of ancient lore, good-humoured jesting, and rites of passage — a practice as deeply entrenched in naval history as it is endearingly weird.

Imagine this: A massive warship, cutting through the vastness of the ocean, halts its regular proceedings as it approaches the equator. The reason? To pay its respects to none other than King Neptune, the mythical Lord of the Seas. While the notion might sound like a plot from a fantasy novel, it’s a centuries-old ritual that every sailor in the Royal Navy anticipates with a blend of excitement and trepidation.

At the heart of the ceremony lies the objective to test sailors — especially the ones who have never crossed the equator before. Dubbed as “polliwogs,” these sailors are made to undergo challenges to ensure they are robust enough to handle the rough seas. The tasks vary, but traditionally involve quirky activities: being daubed with paint, munching on a rather unpalatable snack, or even being dunked in water. It’s all in good fun, yet there’s a symbolic undertone to these acts, reinforcing the sailor’s commitment to the sea and their shipmates.

Yet, what makes the tradition especially surreal is the ‘court’ convened by King Neptune himself. The court isn’t a solemn affair; rather, it’s an occasion steeped in tradition, set rituals, and (of course) grandiose speeches. King Neptune, usually impersonated by a senior sailor adorned in elaborate costumes, presides over the proceedings with his consort, Amphitrite, and his notorious assistant, Davy Jones. Together, they decide the ‘fate’ of the polliwogs.

For first timers, the ceremony might be daunting, but there’s a twist: it’s all enacted in a light-hearted, theatrical fashion. Members of the crew who have not “crossed the line” are humorously “charged for their crimes,” which could be as silly as “not swabbing the deck properly” or “singing off-tune.” These mock ‘crimes’ are then ‘punished’ in comically exaggerated ways, ensuring bouts of laughter echo through the ship’s decks.

Surviving Neptune’s challenges and his royal court’s judgments have a reward, though. Sailors emerge as “Trusty Shellbacks,” earning a status that’s both a badge of honour and a testament to their resilience. This metamorphosis from a polliwog to a Shellback is a significant moment, marking a sailor’s true initiation into the mysteries of the deep blue.

Modern naval vessels, equipped with the latest technology and often engaged in serious operations, might seem like unlikely venues for such a whimsical tradition. Yet, ships like the HMS Defender and the flagship HMS Queen Elizabeth have recently partaken in this age-old custom. In today’s digital age, photographs and videos of these ceremonies — showcasing ‘King Neptune,’ sailors in playful costumes, and the newly christened Shellbacks — find their way to social media platforms, allowing the world a glimpse into this peculiar naval practice.

But what’s the deeper purpose behind such eccentricities? Beyond the jests and japes, the “Crossing the Line” ceremony serves a crucial function. For sailors, often away from their families and facing the unpredictable temperament of the seas, such traditions offer a momentary respite. The ceremony fosters camaraderie, strengthening the bond among crew members, and instilling a sense of belonging.

It’s a quirky yet profound reminder that in the vast, often lonely stretches of the ocean, a sailor is never truly alone.

Military traditions, no matter how odd they might appear, are often rooted in deep-seated values and purposes. The Royal Navy’s “Crossing the Line” ceremony is a testament to this. It’s a tradition that celebrates resilience, unity, and the age-old bond between sailors and the sea. In an ever-evolving world, where traditions fade and new practices emerge, it’s heartening to see some customs remain — unyielding as the waves, constant as the northern star.

The “Crossing the Line” ceremony, with its quirks and oddities, is one such enduring beacon in the vast seascape of military traditions.

The Attari–Wagah Border Ceremony

In the vast landscape of international borders, none hosts a daily spectacle quite as unique and paradoxical as the Attari-Wagah border between India and Pakistan. This choreographed dance of military precision, described as both a symbol of rivalry and a testament to cooperation, stands out as one of the most bizarre military traditions in the world.

Set against the backdrop of the Grand Trunk Road, the Attari-Wagah border holds a special place in the hearts of both Indians and Pakistanis. Before the establishment of the Aman Setu in Kashmir in 1999, this border was the solitary road link between the two nations. However, beyond its geographical significance, every evening this location transforms into a theatre of vibrant military display.

The sun might be inching closer to the horizon at this time, but on the border, the atmosphere is electrifying. Soldiers from both India’s Border Security Force and Pakistan’s Rangers take centre stage, showcasing a blend of elaborate dance-like manoeuvres. These aren’t delicate ballet steps but power-packed, high-legged kicks, characterized as “colourful”. For an onlooker, this might appear more like a highly competitive and synchronized dance-off than a traditional military display.

Yet, the tradition runs deep. Since 1959, this daily lowering of the flags ceremony has become almost ritualistic, each motion, each shout, each stare carries decades of history, rivalry, and a shared heritage.

The heart of the ceremony is marked by the perfectly coordinated lowering of the two nations’ flags. It’s a sight to behold, with an infantryman from each side standing rigidly at attention. As the last rays of the sun cast long shadows, the iron gates swing open, and the flags descend in perfect sync. What follows is an act of ritualistic unity: the flags are folded, and soldiers from both nations engage in a brisk handshake.

This handshake, however, isn’t just a simple greeting; it’s an embodiment of the love-hate relationship the two nations have shared since their inception. Once done, the gates clang shut, signalling the end of the day’s performance.

Thousands gather daily to witness this spectacle. While the majority hail from both sides of the border, the event has also garnered attention from international tourists. The bleachers echo with cheers, jeers, and patriotic songs, turning the border into a quasi-sporting arena. And while the energy might remind one of an international sports match, the underlying currents are far more profound.

Yet, like any longstanding tradition, the Attari-Wagah ceremony hasn’t been free from controversies and challenges. In 2010, amidst concerns over the aggressive nature of the ceremonial theatrics, Major General Yaqub Ali Khan of the Pakistan Rangers proposed toning down the display. The ceremony also saw its dark days, notably the 2014 Wagah border suicide attack, where an explosion marred the post-ceremony ambiance, claiming numerous innocent lives.

The ceremony’s resilience was tested during the heightened India-Pakistan military tensions in 2016. While the performance continued unabated, certain elements, like the customary exchange of sweets during festivals and national days, were paused. Such instances underscore the ceremony’s dual nature: a symbol of rivalry and unity.

However, the Attari-Wagah border isn’t unique in its display. Other border posts, like the Ganda Singh Wala-Hussainiwala and Sulemanki-Sadqi borders, host similar ceremonies. Though they might not match Attari-Wagah in scale, they imbue the same spirit. Soldiers intimidate each other with high kicks and intense stares, eventually culminating in a synchronized flag lowering or beating retreat. Unlike the more renowned Attari-Wagah, these ceremonies are intimate, often attended by local Punjabis.

In a world of evolving military traditions, the Attari-Wagah border ceremony stands out. It’s a testament to the power of ritual, the complexities of regional politics, and the sheer will to maintain a tradition against all odds. To label it merely as ‘weird’ would be an oversimplification. It’s an intricate dance of rivalry and brotherhood, playing out daily on the world’s stage.

Key Takeaways

• Chile adopted German military traditions, including the iconic spiked helmet, after seeking European help to modernize its army.
• The Whisky War between Canada and Denmark involved friendly flag exchanges and buried bottles of alcohol over Hans Island.
• The Norwegian Army has a ceremonial penguin, Sir Nils Olav III, who holds the rank of Major General and is a knight.
• The Royal Navy’s Crossing the Line ceremony tests sailors crossing the equator with humorous challenges and rituals.
• The Attari-Wagah border ceremony between India and Pakistan features synchronized military displays and flag-lowering rituals.

Sources

• Original Side Projects video: 5 Strange Military Traditions from Around the World
• Hero image source by Sinikka Halme / openverse, by-sa.

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