France is one of the few Western nations that takes the threats of the modern world seriously and is actively preparing for any scenario at a moment’s notice. At least, that is the mindset of its military elite — along with President Macron and the political circles close to him — who harbour no illusions about the challenges ahead. That is why the Chief of Staff of the French Army, Pierre Schill, recently set out the main directions for transforming the armed forces, with a particular focus on unmanned aerial systems. Defence is one of the few sectors whose budget will not be cut next year — on the contrary, it is set to increase. French hospitals are also being prepared for potential high-intensity combat situations. Paris can afford this: since the days of Charles de Gaulle, the country has pursued an independent defence policy centred on its own nuclear arsenal.
“To be free, you must command respect; and to command respect, you must be strong,” Macron has often said in his public speeches. Like the leaders of the Czech Republic, Finland, Poland, and the Baltic states, he sees the prospect of a high-intensity war in Europe over the next three to four years as a serious possibility. The most obvious threat comes from Russia — but not only Russia. Other authoritarian regimes and radical terrorist groups also form part of that danger.
To avoid being caught off guard, France has created the 7th Combat Brigade, capable of deploying to Europe’s eastern flank within 15 days, fully armed and operational. Looking ahead to 2027, a division of around 19,000 personnel is being formed, designed to be ready to move into position within 30 days. Plans for 2030 envision the creation of an army corps of 60,000 troops, operating alongside partner countries.
“To a high degree, high-intensity combat changes the very model of military medicine,” Guillaume de Saint-Maurice, director of the Paris Armed Forces Health Academy at Val-de-Grâce, said in a recent interview. His institution is preparing military doctors for these new challenges. “For the past thirty years, we have operated on an expeditionary model, dealing with a small number of severely wounded and relying on large resources that allowed us to provide care and evacuate patients within a day or two,” he explained. “Today and tomorrow, we are likely to face many more severely wounded — around a hundred a day — while resources are far more limited. We are moving from a model where we knew who would be deployed, when, with what speciality, and for how long, to one in which we cannot predict who will go into combat, when, or for how long. That is why it is essential to strengthen training in combat medicine, which we have been doing since 2022, making substantial changes to the way we train both doctors and nurses.”
Guillaume de Saint-Maurice does not shy away from acknowledging that Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine was the catalyst for a major overhaul of military medical education. The French armed forces have been closely studying Ukraine’s experience — from the use of tourniquets and field surgery to other lifesaving techniques employed by Ukrainian military medics. The Val-de-Grâce academy also trains civilian teams, including firefighters and rescue workers, in providing medical assistance under wartime or disaster conditions. “In the event of war, civilian hospitals will have to handle large numbers of wounded while also supporting those suffering from psychological trauma. New training programmes are being developed to meet these challenges,” the academy notes.
Since August, French hospitals have been operating under internal instructions to prepare for the possibility of a large-scale armed conflict in Europe, ensuring they can treat thousands of wounded soldiers. The government plans to set up medical centres specifically to receive patients returning from combat zones. These centres are to be strategically located near bus and railway stations, ports, or airports to “ensure the transport of foreign soldiers to their countries of origin.” According to French media reports, the directive anticipates handling “around 100 soldiers a day for two months.”
Not everyone in France’s political class shares the same sense of urgency about preparing for war. “Schools, not weapons!” declare the posters of the La France insoumise (France Unbowed) party. In a perfect world, that might indeed be possible. But the real world has never been quite so idealistic. Pacifism is admirable — but only when backed by strong defence. It is reassuring, then, that Emmanuel Macron and most of France’s top military leaders grasp that reality.
