On Guard at the Vatican

The world's most enduring army of admitted mercenaries is armed with broadswords and halberds and dressed in striped uniforms of blue, red and yellow. But the famed Swiss guards of Vatican City, sworn to defend the Pope to the death, are no mere ceremonial troop; the guardsmen are well trained in hand-to-hand fighting and have an arsenal of Swiss rifles in their quarters in St. Peter's. Last week a pontifical commission gave this elite corps a much-needed streamlining. Recruits were growing hard to find, and there was a rumble of discontent in the ranks.

Spartan Standards. The guardsmen's lot has never been an easy one. First formed in 1505 by Pope Julius II. who gave Switzerland the honor of supplying 200 mercenaries as his personal bodyguard, the corps was almost wiped out 22 years later when Holy Roman Emperor Charles V sacked Rome. In a short, vicious fight, 147 Swiss were killed, successfully defending Clement VII. The guard has not fought another major battle, but ever since has set itself such Spartan, fiercely loyal standards that even a U.S. Marine drill instructor might blink.

Each guardsman must be 6 ft. tall, a practicing Catholic of "good" family. All are unmarried (except officers); all must sign up for five years of long, lonely hours patrolling Vatican corridors; only a lucky few draw outdoor posts. Fraternization with civilians is forbidden. The guards worship in their own chapel in Vatican City, have their own canteen, even their own cemetery. Pay is low, and there is a 10 p.m. curfew in summer, 9 p.m. in winter.

In last week's reorganization, the complement was cut from 133 to 100, and the Vatican introduced some morale-boosting changes. Pay will be raised from an average $70 a month to about $112. Some noncoms, as well as officers, may now marry, and officers' wives need no longer bring a dowry of 50,000 lire ($80). One surprising innovation: guards may now act as guides in their spare time, engage in other "cultural" activities, provided they are not "indecorous."

Harsh Discipline. The new rules should make it much easier to fill vacancies in the ranks. But each guardsman must still reckon with his tough C.O.: tall, ramrod-rigid Colonel Robert Nunlist, 48, onetime member of Switzerland's General Staff, who was appointed commander in 1957. Nunlist felt that discipline had deteriorated during the long illness of the previous commander, set out to whip the troop into shape. His soldiers are kept taut with tongue-lashings, stern punishments for minor infractions. Nunlist's strictness nearly cost him his life last April, when a discharged guardsman shot him in the neck and shoulder. Before he collapsed, the bleeding colonel disarmed his attacker, who was turned over to the Italian police (the Vatican City jail has been vacant for 20 years, is now used for storage). "It was a brief but violent struggle," said Nunlist, and clamped down all the harder.

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