The "botta secreta" is (was) the much sought after "secret thrust" that would allow a swordsman to win every time. Some fencing masters centuries ago advertised that they could teach (for a price) a "secret thrust." In fact, one fencing master (sixteenth century, it think), advertised that he could teach someone to "thruft three feet further than any other fwordfman." Turns out that he had invented (along with lots of others about that same time) the lunge.

A botta secreta was almost invariably an unorthodox movement or a movement that simply hadn't been tried much before, and it was hoped by the possessor of a botta secreta that it would catch his adversary by surprise. Whenever a botta secreta actually worked, that was usually the reason. The major problem with the botta secreta was that once someone sees you use it, it isn't secret anymore. And it's the nature of fencing that there are no stunts or tricks that can't be countered or nullified one way or another. Newton applied to swordplay:   every action has an equal and opposite reaction.

However, there are certain approaches to fencing that are as good—or better—than a botta secreta that, even when other fencers see them in action, simply don't see what's really going on.

Since I no longer fence (I most certainly would if I were still physically able), and I am feeling expansive and generous at the moment, I will now reveal my botta secreta:   that which allowed me, bereft of quick footwork, unable to lunge, and having to rely almost exclusively on defensive actions, to do as well as I did, even against fencers who were far more physically able than I was.

Aldo Nadi, who, among other accomplishments was professional fencing champion of Europe for ten years, and who came to the U. S. and taught for many years in Los Angeles, wrote a book entitled On Fencing (a few copies still available here or there, but very pricey. Perhaps your local library has a copy). Many fencers, at least back in the late 1940s and 1950s, owned and read this book. Many studied it rather avidly.

But I was amazed at the number of fencers who practically used this book as their Bible who didn't grasp the import of the concepts that Nadi enunciated in a brief chapter toward the back of the book entitled "Free Will in Defense." [By the way, this book deals with foil fencing only]

In this chapter, Nadi points out that there are only a very limited number of possible attacks: the straight trust (obviously the simplest and most direct), the disengage (dropping your point under your opponent's blade and thrusting on the other side) and the coupé or "cutover" (withdrawing your blade over your opponent's point and thrusting on the other side—disadvantage, this draws you blade way out of line for a split second and leaves you exposed, giving your opponent a reasonable opening to counter-attack with a "stop thrust."). These simple attacks can be combined into compound attacks; two disengages in opposite directions ("one-two"), two disengages in the same direction ("doublé), the coupé-disengage—etc. Usually the first movement (or some subsequent movements) of a compound attack is a "feint," done aggressively enough to convince your opponent that it's the real attack in order to draw a parry, then deceive the parry (usually with a disengage) and end with the real attack. It is, of course, possible to put together a whole string of feints leading up to la finale, but the more complicated the attack, the less chance it has of actually succeeding.

But these compound attacks are designed to deceive certain specific parries or a specific series of parries. And the more complex a compound attack is (the more moves it contains), the more the attacker has to be certain of what parries the defender is apt to use. And unless the attacker is clarivoyant, there is no way he or she can be sure.

The defender, on the other hand, when he sees the attack coming, can execute almost any combination of parries, and his or her blade will sweep up or deflect the incoming blade, except for the specific compound or complex attack designed to evade that particular combination of parries!

Nadi suggest about a half-dozen combinations of parries (e.g., counter-of-quarte, septime, sixte, or it's mirror image, counter-of-sixte, seconde, quarte)—about a half- dozen combinations and their mirror images. And these combination parries, in turn, can be used in combination! He suggests a couple of other very effective defense tactics in the chapter, but combination parries is the meat of it.

I learned these combination parries, and, first in front of a mirror and later with partners, I practiced them assiduously, over and over again, like a musician practicing scales, until, when attacked in a fencing bout, I could turn my hand on like a little electric motor, and as soon as I felt my blade contact and deflect the attacker's blade, fire back a lightning riposte. It became almost like reflex. But not so much that I couldn't pre-plan which combination, or combinations, I would use, depending on the predilections of my opponent of the moment.

Free will in defense. Combinations, combinations, combinations. And practice, practice, practice.

It worked.

What made it work, and what made it a botta secreta was that people thought I simply had blazingly fast reflexes. They rarely, if ever, tumbled to the fact that my defensive tactic was built on pre-planning and assiduous practice.

It's not that I am so bloody brilliant. I just read Nadi's book and paid attention to what he was saying.

Don Firth