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diff --git a/40479.txt b/40479.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 7677467..0000000 --- a/40479.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8290 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of In the Foreign Legion, by Erwin Rosen - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: In the Foreign Legion - -Author: Erwin Rosen - -Release Date: August 11, 2012 [EBook #40479] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE FOREIGN LEGION *** - - - - -Produced by sp1nd and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from -images generously made available by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -IN THE FOREIGN LEGION - - -BY - -ERWIN ROSEN - - -LONDON -DUCKWORTH & CO. -HENRIETTA ST. COVENT GARDEN -1910 - -_All rights reserved_ - -Printed by BALLANTYNE & CO. LIMITED -Tavistock Street, Covent Garden, London - - - - -PROLOGUE - - -Once upon a time there was a young student at a German University who -found life too fresh, too joyous, to care very much for professors and -college halls. Parental objections he disregarded. Things came to a -climax. And the very next "Schnelldampfer" had amongst its passengers a -boy in disgrace, bound for the country of unlimited possibilities in -search of a fortune.... - -The boy did not see very much of fortune, but met with a great deal of -hard work. His father did not consider New York a suitable place for -bad boys, and booked him a through passage to Galveston. There the -ex-student contracted hotel-bills, feeling very much out of place, -until a man who took a fancy to him gave him a job on a farm in Texas. -There the boy learnt a good deal about riding and shooting, but rather -less about cotton-raising. This was the beginning. In the course of -time he became translator of Associated Press Despatches for a big -German paper in St. Louis and started in newspaper life. - -From vast New York to the Golden Gate his new profession carried him: -he was sent as a war correspondent to Cuba, he learned wisdom from the -kings of journalism, he paid flying visits to small Central American -republics whenever a new little revolution was in sight. Incidentally -he acquired a taste for adventure. Then the boy, a man now, was called -back to the Fatherland, to be a journalist, editor and novelist. He was -fairly successful. And a woman's love came into his life.... - -But he lost the jewel happiness. The continual fight for existence and -battling for daily bread of his American career, so full of ups and -downs, was hardly a good preparation for quiet respectability. Wise men -called him a fool, a fool unspeakable, who squandered his talents in -light-heartedness. And finally a time came when even his wife to be -could no more believe in him. The jewel happiness was lost.... - -The man at any rate recognised his loss; he recognised that life was no -longer worth living. A dull feeling of hopelessness came over him. And -in his hour of despair he remembered the blood of adventure in his -veins. A wild life he would have: he would forget. - -He enlisted as a soldier in the French Foreign Legion. - - * * * * * - -That man was I. I had burned my boats behind me. Not a soul knew where -I was. Those who loved me should think that I was dead. I lived the -hard life of a legionnaire; I had no hopes, no aspirations, no thought -for the future; I worked and marched, slept, ate, and did what I was -ordered; suffered the most awful hardships and bore all kinds of -shameful treatment. And during sleepless nights I dreamed of love--love -lost for ever.... - -Some five hundred years I wore the uniform of the Legion. So at least -it seemed to me. - -Then--the great change came. One day there was a letter for me. - -Love had found me out across a continent. I read and read and read -again. - -That was the turning-point of my life. I broke my fetters, and I fought -a hard fight for a new career.... - -Now the jewel happiness is mine. - -ERWIN ROSEN - -HAMBURG, 1909 - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - -CHAPTER I - -LEGIONNAIRE! - -In Belfort : Sunrays and fear : Madame and the waiter : The -French lieutenant : The enlistment office of the Foreign Legion -: Naked humanity : A surgeon with a lost sense of smell : -"Officier Allemand" : My new comrades : The lieutenant-colonel : -A night of tears 1 - - -CHAPTER II - -L'AFRIQUE - -Transport of recruits on the railway : What our ticket did for -us and France : The patriotic conductor : Marseilles : The gate -of the French Colonies : The Colonial hotel : A study in blue -and yellow : On the Mediterranean : The ship's cook : The story -of the Royal Prince of Prussia at Saida : Oran : Wine and -legionnaires : How the deserter reached Spain and why he -returned 16 - - -CHAPTER III - -LEGIONNAIRE NUMBER 17889 - -French and American bugle-calls : Southward to the city of the -Foreign Legion : Sidi-bel-Abbes : The sergeant is not pleased : -A final fight with pride : The jokes of the Legion : The wise -negro : Bugler Smith : I help a legionnaire to desert : The -Eleventh Company : How clothes are sold in the Legion : Number -17889 35 - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE FOREIGN LEGION'S BARRACKS - -In the company's storeroom : Mr. Smith--American, legionnaire, -philosopher : The Legion's neatness : The favourite substantive -of the Foreign Legion : What the commander of the Old Guard said -at Waterloo : Old and young legionnaires : The canteen : Madame -la Cantiniere : The regimental feast : Strange men and strange -things : The skull : The prisoners' march : The wealth of -Monsieur Rassedin, legionnaire : "Rehabilitation" : The Koran -chapter of the Stallions 48 - - -CHAPTER V - -THE MILITARY VALUE OF THE FOREIGN REGIMENTS - -A day's work as a recruit : Allez, hurry up! : The Legion's -etiquette : A morning's run : The "cercle d'enfer" and the lack -of soap : The main object of the Legion's training : Splendid -marchers : Independent soldiers : Forty kilometres a day : -Uniform, accoutrements, baggage, victualling : The training of -the legionnaire in detail : The legionnaire as a practical man : -Specialties of the Legion : Programme for a week in the Legion : -The legionnaire as a labourer 77 - - -CHAPTER VI - -"THE LEGION GETS NO PAY" - -The money troubles of the Legion : Five centimes wages : The -cheapest soldiers of the world : Letters from the Legion : The -science of "decorating" : The industries of the legionnaires : -What the bugler did for a living : The man with the biscuits : A -thief in the night : Summary lynch law : Herr von Rader and la -Cantiniere : "The Legion works--the Legion gets no pay!" 105 - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE CITY OF THE FOREIGN LEGION - -The daily exodus to town : Ben Mansur's coffee : The Ghetto : -The citizens of Sidi-bel-Abbes and the legionnaires : How the -Legion squared accounts with the civilians : A forbidden part of -the town : Primitive vice : A dance of a night : The gardens : -The last resting-place of the Legion's dead 117 - - -CHAPTER VIII - -A HUNDRED THOUSAND HEROES--A HUNDRED THOUSAND VICTIMS - -The hall of honour : A collection of ruined talents : The battle -of Camaron : A skeleton outline of the Legion's history : A -hundred thousand victims : A psychological puzzle : True heroes -: How they are rewarded : The chances of promotion : The pension -system of the Foreign Legion 135 - - -CHAPTER IX - -"MARCH OR DIE!" - -The Legion's war-cry : A night alarm : On the march : The -counting of the milestones : Under canvas : The brutality of the -marches : The legionnaire and the staff doctor : My fight for an -opiate : The "marching pig" : The psychology of the marches : -Excited nerves : The song of imprecations 155 - - -CHAPTER X - -THE MADNESS OF THE FOREIGN LEGION - -An unpleasant occurrence : The last three coppers : The Roumanian -Jew from Berlin : Monsieur Viaisse : The Legion's atmosphere : The -Cafard demoniacs : Bismarck's double : Kruegerle's whim : The -madness of Legionnaire Bauer : Brutal humour : A tragedy 176 - - -CHAPTER XI - -THE DESERTERS - -The Odyssey of going on pump : Death in the desert : The -Legion's deserters : A disastrous flight in a motor-car : The -tragic fate of an Austrian engineer : In the Ghetto of -Sidi-bel-Abbes : The business part of desertion : Oran and -Algiers : The Consulate as a trap : The financial side of -desertion : One hundred kilometres of suffering : Hamburg -steamers : Self-mutilation : Shamming : In the Suez Canal : -Morocco, the wonder-land 197 - - -CHAPTER XII - -A CHAPTER ON PUNISHMENTS - -The return of the poumpistes : The scale of punishments in the -Legion : Of spiteful non-commissioned officers : The Legion's -axiom : Sad history of Little Jean : The punishment machine : -Lost years : A legionnaire's earnings in five years--francs, -127.75 : The prisons in the Foreign Legion : Pestilential -atmosphere : Human sardines : The general cells : Life in the -prison : On sentry duty among the prisoners 226 - - -CHAPTER XIII - -SOME TYPES OF VICE - -A variety of human vices : The red wine of Algeria : Shum-Shum : -If there were no wine 248 - - -CHAPTER XIV - -MY ESCAPE - -In the Arab prison : The letter : Days of suffering : Flight! : -The greedy "Credit Lyonnais" : Haggling in the Ghetto : The palm -grove as a dressing-room : On the railway track : Arab policemen -: Horrible minutes : Travelling to Oran : Small preparations : -On the steamer _St. Augustine_ : Marseilles : Ventimiglia : Free - 255 - - -CHAPTER XV - -J'ACCUSE - -Two years after : Shadows of the past : My vision : Public -opinion and the Foreign Legion : The political aspect of the -Foreign Legion : The moralist's point of view : The "Legion -question" in a nutshell : A question the civilised world should -have answered long ago : Quousque tandem...? 274 - - - - -CHAPTER I - -LEGIONNAIRE! - -In Belfort : Sunrays and fear : Madame and the waiter : The French -lieutenant : The enlistment office of the Foreign Legion : Naked -humanity : A surgeon with a lost sense of smell : "Officier Allemand" : -My new comrades : The lieutenant-colonel : A night of tears - - -Another man, feeling as I felt, would have preferred a pistol-bullet as -a last resource. I went into the Foreign Legion.... - -It was evening when I arrived in the old fortress of Belfort, with the -intention of enlisting for the Legion. Something very like -self-derision made me spend the night in the best hotel. - -Awakening was not pleasant. The sunrays played hide-and-seek upon the -lace of the cover, clambered to the ceiling, threw fantastic colours on -the white little faces of the stucco angels, climbed down again, -crowded together in a shining little heap, and gave the icy elegance of -the room a warm tone. Sleepily I stared at their play; sleepily I -blinked at the enormous bed with its splendid covering of lace, the -curious furniture, the wonderful Persian rug. Then I woke up with a -start and tried to think. A thousand thoughts, a thousand memories -crowded in upon me. Voices spoke to me; a woman's tears, the whispering -of love, a mothers sorrow. And some devil was perpetually drumming in -even measure: lost, lost, lost for ever.... - -For the second time in my life I felt the Great Fear. An indescribable -feeling, as if one had a great lump in one's throat, barring the air -from the lungs; as if one never could draw breath again. I had once -experienced this fear in the valley of Santiago de Cuba, when one of -the first Spanish shells from the blockhouse on San Juan Hill burst a -few feet from me. This time it was much worse. - -Ah well, one must try to forget! - -I dressed with ridiculous care, paid my bill in the "bureau," and -earned a lovely smile from madame for my gold piece. Ah, madame, you -would hardly flash your pretty eyes if you knew! The head waiter stood -expectant at the door, bending himself almost double in French fashion. -He reminded me of a cat in bad humour. - -I gave him a rather large silver piece. - -"Well, my son, you're the last man in this world who gets a tip from -me. Too bad, isn't it?" - -"Je ne parle pas...." - -"That's all right," said I. - -I walked slowly through the quaint narrow streets and alleys of -Belfort. Shop after shop, store after store, and before each and every -one of them stood flat tables packed with things for sale, taking up -most of the pavement. Here was a good chance for a thief, I thought, -and laughed, marvelling that in my despair the affairs of the Belfort -storekeepers could interest me. Mechanically I looked about and saw a -house of wonderful blue; the city fathers of Belfort had built their -new market-hall almost wholly of sapphire-blue glass, which -scintillated in the rays of the sun, giving an effect such as no -painter has as yet been able to reproduce. I felt sorry that a building -of such beauty should be condemned to hold prosaic potatoes and -greenstuff. Vivacious Frenchmen and Frenchwomen hurried by hustling and -jostling each other in the crowded streets.... Don't hurry about so. -Life is certainly not worth the trouble! - -Ironical thoughts could not alter matters, nor could even the most -wonderful blue help me to forget. I must get it over. - -A very young-looking lieutenant came up the street. I spoke to him in -my rusty college French: - -"Would you please to direct me to the recruiting office of the Foreign -Legion?" - -The officer touched his "kepi" politely and seemed rather astonished. - -"You can come with me, monsieur. I am on the way to the offices of the -fortress." - -We went together. - -"You seem to be German?" he said. "I may be able to assist you. I am -adjutant to the general commanding the fortress." - -"Yes, I am German, and intend to enlist in the Foreign Legion," I said, -very, very softly. How terribly hard this first step was! I thought the -few words must choke me. - -"Oh, la la...." said the officer, quite confounded. - -He took a good look at me. I seemed to puzzle him. Then he chatted (the -boy was a splendid specimen of French courtesy) amiably about this and -that. Awfully interesting corps, this Foreign Legion. He hoped to be -transferred himself to the "etrangers" for a year or two. Ah, that -would be magnificent. - -"The Cross of the Legion of Honour can be earned very easily in -Southern Algeria. Brilliant careers down there! Oh, la la! Eh bien, -monsieur--you shall wear the French uniform very soon. Have you -anything particular to tell me?" - -Again that curious glance. - -I answered in the negative. - -"Really not?" the lieutenant asked in a very serious tone of voice. - -"No, monsieur, absolutely nothing. I have been told that for the -Foreign Legion physical fitness is the only thing required, and that -the recruiting officers cared less than nothing about the past lives of -their recruits." - -"You're quite right," said the lieutenant; "I asked in your own -interest only. If you had special military knowledge, for instance, -your way in the Legion could be made very easy for you." - -Some time later I understood what he meant. Now I answered that I had -served in the army like all Germans. - -Meanwhile we had reached a row of small buildings. Into one of them the -lieutenant went with me, up a flight of steep, rather dirty stairs, -into a dingy little office. At our entrance a corporal jumped up from -his seat and saluted, and the officer spoke to him in a low tone. Then -my little lieutenant left and the corporal turned to me. - -"Eh, enter la Legion?" he said. "Mais, monsieur, you are not dressed -like a man desiring to gain bread by becoming legionnaire! Votre nom?" - -I reflected for an instant whether I should give my right name or not. -I gave it, however. It did not matter much. - -"Eh, venez avec moi to the others. The medecin major will be here in a -minute." - -So saying the corporal opened a door and gave me a friendly push. I -drew back almost frightened. The atmosphere of the close little room -was unspeakable. It was foul with the smell of unwashed humanity, -sweat, dirt and old clothes. Long benches stood against the wall and -men sat there, candidates for the Foreign Legion, waiting for the -medical examination, waiting to know whether their bodies were still -worth five centimes daily pay. That is what a legionnaire gets--five -centimes a day. One of the men sat there naked, shivering in the chill -October air. It needed no doctor's eye to see that he was half starved. -His emaciated body told the story clearly enough. Another folded his -pants with almost touching care, although they had been patched so -often that they were now tired of service and in a state of continuous -strike. An enormous tear in an important part had ruined them -hopelessly. These pants and that tear had probably settled the question -of the wearer's enlisting in the Foreign Legion. - -A third man, a strong boy, seemed very much ashamed of having to -undress. These poor men considered nudity a vile and ugly thing, -because, in their life of poverty and hunger, they had forgotten the -laws of cleanliness. They were ashamed, and every move of theirs told -it. There, in the corner, one of the men was shoving his shoes -furtively as far as possible under the bench, that the holes in them -might not be seen, and another made a small bundle of his tattered -belongings, thus defying inspection. - -A dozen men were there. Some of them were mere boys, with only a shadow -of beard on their faces; youths with deep-set hungry eyes and deep -lines round their mouths; men with hard, wrinkled features telling the -old story of drink very plainly. Nobody dared to talk aloud. Occasional -words were spoken in a hushed undertone. The man beside me said softly, -the fear of refusal in his eyes: - -"I've got varicose veins. D'you think they'll take me...?" - -My God, the Foreign Legion meant hope for this man--the hope of regular -food! The daily five centimes were for him wages well worth having! - -The atmosphere was loathsome. I stared at this miserable crowd of -hopeless men, at their filthy things, at their hungry faces; I felt -like a criminal in the dock. My clothes seemed a mockery.... - -After what seemed an eternity of waiting the officers came in. A fat -surgeon, an assistant and my lieutenant. I would have given something -to have asked this doctor why in all the world these men could not be -given a bath before examination.... - -First the doctor pointed at me. - -"Undress!" - -While I was undressing, the officers kept whispering together, very -softly, but I could hear that they were talking about me, and that the -lieutenant said something about "Officier Allemand." - -I smiled as I listened. It was very funny to be taken for a quondam -German officer. I suppose they took me for a deserter; it certainly -must have been rather an unusual event to find a well-dressed man -enlisting in the Legion. - -The well-dressed man felt annoyed at this curiosity, this openly shown -pity. It was absolute torture to me. How very ridiculous it all was--I -fumbled at my watch-chain, trying to take off the little gold -sovereign-case in order to open my waistcoat--I fumed at the stares of -the officers who should have been gentlemen.... The looks of the doctor -said plainly: - -"Humph, the fellow actually wears fine underclothes!" - -Why should they stare at me? Had I not the same right as these other -poor devils to go to perdition in my own way? Why should they make it -so hard for me in particular? Then I understood how human their -curiosity was, and how ridiculous my irritability. The first step was -made. I began slowly to understand what it meant to enlist in the -Foreign Legion as a last refuge. - -I stood there naked before the medecin major, who adjusted his -eye-glass as if he had a good deal of time to spare, and who took a -long look at me. I stared quietly back at him. You may look as long as -you wish, I thought, you fat, funny old fellow with a snub nose. You -surely aren't going to complain of my physical condition. - -"Bon," said the doctor. - -A clerk wrote something in a book. This finished the ceremony. The -doctor did not bother about such trifles as examining the lungs, heart -or eyes. He was for simplifying things. Monsieur le major decided with -a short look in each case, as the other men took their turn. Three men -were refused. An old woman could have diagnosed their condition at a -glance--they were cases for a hospital, and their doing military -service was absolutely out of the question. The man with the varicose -veins, however, was at once accepted. Bon! I could see how happy he was -over his good fortune, and I envied him. The man had hope.... - - * * * * * - -Before a small window in the wall we new recruits waited, half an hour, -an hour. At last the window was opened and the corporal put out his -head. - -"Snedr!" he called. - -Nobody answered. - -"Snedr!!" he yelled, getting angry. - -Still no reply. - -Finally the lieutenant appeared beside the corporal, and looked over -his list. - -"Oh," he said, "the man does not understand. Schneider!" - -"Here!" answered one of my new comrades at once. - -"Your name is Schneider?" the lieutenant asked. - -"Yes, sir." - -"Very well, in French your name is pronounced Snedr. Remember that!" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Sign your name here." - -The man signed. One after the other the new recruits were called to the -little window, and each signed his name, without bothering to look at -what he signed. I came last this time. The lieutenant gave me a sheet -of hectographed paper, and I glanced quickly over its contents. It was -a formal contract for five years' service in the Foreign Legion between -the Republic of France and the man who was foolish enough to sign it. -There were a great many paragraphs and great stress was laid on the -fact that the "enlisting party" had no right upon indemnification in -case of sickness or disability, and no claim upon pension until after -fifteen years of service. - -"Have you any personal papers?" the lieutenant asked me suddenly. - -I almost laughed in his face--he was such a picture of curiosity. In my -German passport, however, I was described as "editor," and I had a -notion that this passport was much too good for an occasion like this. -While searching my portfolio for "personal papers" I happened to find -the application form of a life insurance company, with my name filled -out. I gave this to the lieutenant with a very serious countenance. It -was good enough for this. The officer looked at the thing and seemed -quite puzzled. - -"Oh, that will do," he finally smiled, and gave me the pen to sign. - -I signed. And under my name I wrote the date: October 6, 1905. - -"The date was unnecessary," said the lieutenant. - -"Pardon me," I answered. "I wrote unthinkingly--it's an important date -for me." - -"By God, you're right," said he. - -In single file we were marched to the barracks. One of the French -soldiers who met us on the way stopped, and threw up his hands in -laughing astonishment: - -"Eh!" - -And then, making a wry face, he yelled, in a coarse sing-song: - -"Nous sommes les legionnaires d'Afrique...." - - * * * * * - -Half an hour later three new recruits of the Foreign Legion, the -recruit Schneider, the recruit Rader and the recruit Rosen, sat in a -little room belonging to the quarters of the 31st French Regiment of -Line. All three were Germans. Rader opened the conversation. - -"My name's Rader. Pretty good name, ain't it, though it isn't my name, -of course. I might have called myself von Rader--Baron von Rader--while -I was at it, but I ain't proud. What's in a fine name, I say, if you've -got nothing to fill your stomach with? No, the suckers may call me -Rader. My real name is Mueller. Can't use it! Must have some regard for -the feelings of my people...." - -"I mustn't hurt their delicate feelings," he repeated with a great roar -of laughter. - -Then a long knife on the table attracted his attention. He took it up, -mimicked the pose of a grand tragedian, opened his mouth and swallowed -the knife, as if twelve-inch blades were his favourite repast. All at -once the knife lay upon the table again, only to vanish in the -coat-sleeve of Herr von Rader and appear again rather abruptly out of -his left trousers pocket. - -"I'm an artist," Herr Rader, alias von Rader, alias Mueller said with a -condescending smile. "A good one, too. Strictly first class. Why, these -monkeys of Frenchmen don't know nothing about art! Would they -appreciate a true artist? Not a bit of it. Boys, since I hopped over -the frontier and made long nose at the German cop I left on the other -side with a long face, I haven't had much to eat. Remarkably less than -was good for my constitution. So Herr von Rader went to the dogs--to -the Foreign Legion, I meant to say. What's the difference--if they -don't treat me with proper respect, I'll be compelled to leave them -again. On French leave! Scoot, skin out, bunk it--see?" - -Then Herr von Rader fished a number of mysterious little boxes out of -innumerable pockets, inspected them carefully, turned round to mask his -artistic preparations, turned to us again--and his wide-opened -satyr-mouth emitted a sheet of flame! Little Schneider (he was very -young) stared at the phenomenon with startled eyes. - -"Grand, ain't it?" said Herr von Rader quietly. "I've a notion that -this coon isn't going to waste his resources on French Africa. Oh no! -Some fine day I'll give the niggers of Central Africa a treat. I'll go -partners with some big chief and do the conjuring part of the business. -Heap big medicine! There's only one thing worrying me. How about -drinking arrangements? Palm-wine, ain't it? Boys, if only they have -such a thing as beer and kuemmel down there!--Say, old fellow (he turned -to me) what do you think about this French absinthe?" - -I mumbled something. - -"Awfully weak stuff!" said Herr von Rader sorrowfully. "No d--d good!" - -If the comical fellow had known that, with his drollery and his -fantastic yarns, he was helping me to battle with my despair, I suppose -he would have been very much astonished.... - -There was a good deal of story-telling: about the hunger and the misery -of such "artistes" of the road; about the little tricks and "petty -larcenies," by means of which the ever-hungry and ever-thirsty Herr von -Rader had managed to eat occasionally, at least, on his wanderings over -the roads of many countries; about drinking and things unspeakable. -Most of the stories, however, told of hunger only, plain and simple -hunger. - -Then Schneider's turn came. His story was very simple. A few weeks ago -he was wearing the uniform of a German infantry regiment garrisoned at -Cologne. He was then a recruit. One Sunday he had gone drinking with -some other recruits and together they made a great deal of noise in the -"Wirthshaus." The patrol came up. As the non-commissioned officer in -command put Schneider under arrest, the boy shoved his superior aside, -knocked some of the soldiers of the patrol down and took to his heels. -When he had slept off the effects of his carouse in a corner, he got -frightened and decided on flight. A dealer in second-hand clothes gave -him an old civilian suit in exchange for his uniform. As a tramp he -wandered till he reached the French frontier, and some other tramps -showed him how to get across the frontier-line on a dark night. In the -strange country hunger came and---- - -"We always talked about the Legion. All the other Germans on the road -wanted to enlist in the Legion. Anyway, I never could have gone home -again. My father would have killed me." - -"No, he wouldn't," said Herr von Rader wisely. "You would have got all -sorts of good things. It's all in the Bible. Yes, it is...." - -The door opened and a sergeant came in. - -"Is the legionnaire Rosen here?" - -I stood up. - -"The lieutenant-colonel wishes to speak to you. Come along to the -parade-ground." - -"... Keep your hat on," said the lieutenant-colonel. He spoke pure -German. "No, you need not stand at attention. I have heard of you and -would like to say a few words to you. I have served in the Foreign -Legion as a common soldier. I consider it an honour to have served in -this glorious corps. It all depends on yourself: men of talent and -intelligence have better chances of promotion in the Legion than in any -other regiment in the world. Educated men are valued in the Legion. -What was your profession?" - -"Journalist ..." I stuttered. I felt miserable. - -The stern grey eyes looked at me searchingly. "Well, I can understand -that you do not care to talk about these things. However, I will give -you some advice: Volunteer for the first battalion of the Legion. You -have a much better chance there for active service. We are fighting a -battle for civilisation in Algeria and many a splendid career has been -won in the Legion. I wish you good luck!" - -He gave me his hand. I believe this officer was a fine soldier and a -brave man. - - * * * * * - -Herr von Rader of the merry mind and the unquenchable thirst slept the -easy sleep of light-hearted men; I heard the German deserter groan in -his sleep and call for his mother. All night long I lay awake. The -events of my life passed before me in mad flight. I was once more a boy -at college; I saw my father standing by the dock at Bremerhaven and -heard his last good-bye and my mother's crying.... Back to America my -waking dreams carried me; I saw myself a young cub of a reporter, and -remembered in pain the enthusiasm of the profession, my enthusiasm--how -proud I was, when for the first time the city editor trusted me with a -"big thing," how I chased through San Francisco in cabs, how I -interviewed big men and wormed details out of secretive politicians ... -how I loved this work and how sweet success had tasted. Lost, lost for -ever. - -Forget I must--I tried to think of the time in Texas, the life on the -Brazos farm, where hundreds of negroes had learned to respect me--after -a little shooting and more kindness shown them in their small troubles; -I tried to glory in remembrance of hard riding and straight shooting, -of a brutal but gloriously free life. Why should I not live a rough -life now? I should be on active service in the Legion. Crouching down -behind my rifle in the firing-line, waiting for the enemy. I would have -a life of excitement, a life of danger. Hurrah for the wild old life! -Grant me adventures, Dame Fortune! - -But fickle Lady Fortune would not grant even a night's oblivion. During -the long night I fought with a wild desire to scream into the darkness -the beloved name.... I fought with my tears---- - - - - -CHAPTER II - -L'AFRIQUE - -Transport of recruits on the railway : What our ticket did for us and -France : The patriotic conductor : Marseilles : The gate of the French -Colonies : The Colonial hotel : A study in blue and yellow : On the -Mediterranean : The ship's cook : The story of the Royal Prince of -Prussia at Saida : Oran : Wine and legionnaires : How the deserter -reached Spain and why he returned - - -Next morning we assembled on the parade-ground. A sergeant distributed -silver pieces amongst us, a franc for each man, that being the meagre -subsistence allowance given us for the long voyage to the -Mediterranean. Besides, each man was given a loaf of bread. - -Then a corporal marched us to the railway station. The loaf of bread -under my arm prompted me to look persistently at the ground. I was -afraid of reading in the eyes of the passers-by wonder, surprise, or, -worse still, compassion. - -The corporal took us to the Marseilles train, gave us his blessing, -smoked a cigarette, and waited patiently until the train started. We -travelled alone. But France ran no danger of losing her recruits on the -way. The fact that we were intended for the Foreign Legion was written -on our military ticket in howling big red letters. The conductor -watched with great care. He was a Frenchman and a patriot and had his -suspicions that these new sons of France might have the perfidy to -break faith and leave the train at some place other than Marseilles. He -therefore kept a sharp look-out--occupying a good strategic position -right in front of our car--whenever the train stopped at stations. The -thing would have been impossible, anyway; with that ticket one could -never have passed the platform barriers. Said Herr von Rader: "They -know all about their business. We are just little flies, don't you see, -sonny, and this fine invention of a ticket is the thread wound about -our little legs. We're prisoners, brother mine!" - -When we left the train at Marseilles, we saw our patriotic conductor -run along the platform, signalling excitedly to a sergeant at the gate. - -"I've got them! Here they are!" was the meaning of this human -semaphore. The conductor was a taxpayer and took good care that France -should receive her dues. - -The sergeant and a corporal received us lovingly. The corporal took -charge and marched us through the town, while the sergeant trotted -along the sidewalk at a respectful distance. Without doubt he had no -desire that any one should connect him with us. He was quite right. We -did not look pretty and the night on the train had not enhanced what -little beauty we may originally have possessed. - -Along the immense water-front of the port of Marseilles we marched; in -the midst of a swarming throng of men, amongst a cosmopolitan human -machine in full working blast. Past Arabs carrying heavy burdens and -fat Levantines lazily strolling about, surrounded by Frenchmen of the -south, always gesticulating, ever talking. Ship lay by ship. Elegant -steam yachts were moored alongside of unkempt tramp-steamers, whose -neglected appearance told of the troubles of money-making on the high -seas. There were Levantine barques with funny round sails, whose crews -were dressed in flannel shirts of two exclusive colours: a screaming -red and a howling blue. Sailing-ships of some hundred different rigs -lay there in line, enormous elevators discharged their unceasing flow -of grain, and a colossal swivel bridge hung high in the air on her -single pillar, seeming to defy all laws of gravitation. - -Casks, barrels, boxes, sacks went flying through the air, past our -noses, shoved, pushed, thrown, bundled about, propelled by the heavy -fists of men who apparently could not work without a tremendous amount -of yelling and screaming. Surely the combined noises of fifteen large -cities cannot equal the hellish babel of Marseilles' water-front. - -We had to walk more than an hour before we reached the little fort, -once the nucleus of Marseilles' harbour defence, whose sole purpose now -is that of a gate through which to pass recruits for the colonial -armies of France. Fort St. Jean it is called. Over the mediaeval -drawbridge of the fort we marched. An enormous oaken door was opened by -a couple of sentries. As we entered, a volley of whistles and yells -greeted us--the salute for the new legionnaires of France. On the -time-worn pavement of the courtyard were crowded in a dense mass the -soldiers of the African corps who were waiting for the next troopship. -Spahis and Zouaves and Tirailleurs, who crowded round us like a swarm -of bees. - -"Oh, la la, les bleus pour la Legion!" (Here are the blues for the -Legion.) - -"Why are we called blues?" I asked a Spahi corporal who happened to -stand near me. - -"Blues?" he said. "Oh, well, that means recruits. Officially recruits -are called 'les jeunes soldats,' young soldiers, but in the army we say -the blues." - -"Wonder what it means," I said. - -The corporal lit a new cigarette and explained: "The origin of the name -is uncertain. My captain told me once that it represented an old army -tradition from Napoleonic times. The soldiers of Napoleon wore very -stiff cravats to give shape to the high collars of their uniforms. -These cravats are said to have been torture. They held the head like a -vice, and it took a long time to get used to them. The recruits -actually got blue in the face with these cravats round their necks, to -the immense amusement of the old soldiers, who made fun of them: Aha, -the blues--look at the blues!" - -Herr von Rader (in my memory he always figures as "Herr von Rader") -gave me a nudge: - -"Say, old chap, take a look at the fellows with the colossal pants!" - -The Spahis were at their toilette, arranging their spacious red -trousers in picturesque folds. Herr von Rader looked at them with great -wonder. - -"My soul--what waste! Why, it's astonishing. Out of a single pair of -these pants I could make pants for a whole family and have a fine skirt -left for my grandmother!" - -Then came the Spahi's sashes. Two men helped each other at this -important part of their toilet. One Spahi would fasten the blue sash, -seven feet in length, and about half a yard in breadth, to his hip, and -turn quickly about while his comrade held the other end, keeping the -sash tight and tense until his brother-in-arms was rolled up in it. The -Spahis seemed to attach great importance to the sit of their sashes, -smoothing and tightening and re-tightening them with amusing coquetry. - -The great gloomy courtyard was one mass of soldiers. From a gallery a -non-commissioned officer read off a string of names from a pay-roll, -and in squads the soldiers went up the stairs to receive their -travelling allowance. We recruits stood in a corner, not knowing what -to do or whom to report ourselves to. Finally a corporal exhorted us to -go to the devil. We were in the way. It would not be our turn for a -long time. We could wait, we should wait, being nasty recruits, blues, -nom de Dieu. Mumbling further things descriptive of how he despised -blues he went off. Then came soldiers, carrying on boards long rows of -little tin bowls. The Spahis and Zouaves crowded at once round the -steaming pots, but Herr von Rader hurled himself in the fray, and -captured portions for all of us. It was thus that I made the -acquaintance of "la gamelle," the venerable tin eating bowl of the -French army, baptized "la gamelle" centuries ago. I was tasting for the -first time the soup of the French army, a mixture of bread and -greenstuffs and small pieces of meat. The cooking of this soup was an -ancient, time-honoured custom. The musketeers of Louis XIV., of -Cardinal Richelieu and Cardinal Mazarin prepared their soup in the very -same fashion. - -Lounging about the place we came to the canteen of this curious army -hotel, and made our way through a labyrinth of wine-casks, which were -massed in front of the little door. There was an awful din inside. We -sat down at one of the long tables and were served with the French army -wine at fifteen centimes a bottle. Good wine, too, but it was -impossible to enjoy it quietly, the Lord of the Canteen, a fat little -man with greedy eyes, being eager for business--second-hand clothes -business. - -He pestered us unceasingly with his offers and demands. Herr von Rader -sold his boots for half a franc, after a great deal of haggling, since -he wanted the half-franc badly, but objected to going barefooted. The -owner of the canteen, however (who evidently thought the buying of good -boots at half a franc a good thing), solved the difficulty. Out of some -corner he conjured a pair of shoes such as the French Zouaves wear. -Although they were in a bad state of dilapidation, Herr von Rader -figured out that four bottles of wine could be exchanged for fifty -centimes, and the boots changed owners.... - -Of my possessions, the fat man desired my overcoat. He complimented me -on my overcoat. An exceedingly beautiful overcoat--such an overcoat as -a poor man like he, the fat man, would be very glad to have. When I -entered the Legion I would have to sell it and I would be sure not to -get more than two francs for it. He would give me four. I never would -get as much as that in Algeria, he said. Half an hour he talked to me -in the vain endeavour to talk me out of the overcoat. But the "poor -man" had a much too prosperous look about him. Moreover, a Zouave -whispered in my ear that the cochon of a canteen-keeper was getting -rich by his little "business." So I told him to go to a place which we -generally consider hot and disagreeable. Then the fat man tried it with -the others, and made excellent bargains. For a few copper pieces he -bought many things, for the twentieth part of their value, boots and -coats and pocket-books. The Swiss recruit even sold his trousers. He -got five sous for them. He got a pair of old French infantry trousers -into the bargain since he had to have some sort of compensation for -these very necessary garments. The fat man's greedy eyes had a happy -light in them and he bought whatever he could lay his hands on. - -There was money to be made even out of the poor devils of recruits for -the Legion! - -I preferred the open air. Leaving the wine and laughter behind me I -walked through the fort and climbed up to the bulwarks. The cannon had -vanished; where once they had been mounted there grew little tufts of -grass on the gravel. I was quiet and lonesome on the old battlements. -They commanded a view of the whole of Marseilles. The city and the port -were enveloped in a curious yellowish light, the bright yellow of the -South. Through a veil of yellow I saw the enormous massive -street-blocks of Lower Marseilles, and far away the little villas of -the suburbs, their flat roofs reflecting a multitude of colours, with -an ever-dominating leitmotiv of yellow. The harbour seemed far away and -its noises were dimly audible. The ship masts, the elevators, the -bridges looked tiny and delicate as the threads of a giant spider's -web. - -South of my bulwark there was the ocean and peace. Between the walls of -St. Jean and the vis-a-vis, an ochre-coloured rocky promontory, there -was a stretch of deep blue water, of the most beautiful blue in all the -world. - -Herr von Rader had followed me. He didn't say a word, but sat quietly -on the wall swaying to and fro, like a pendulum. From time to time he -spat to the whispering waters below. And how pleased he was when he -managed to hit a fisherman. But not a word he said. - -Little I cared for Herr von Rader and his contempt of the world. What a -strange thing this ocean-bound fortress was! The mighty walls now -enclosed but an inn. The fort had been turned into an inn in its old -days. Its artillery had been sold for old iron long ago. It had ceased -to be a fighting machine. It was a resting-place, an hotel for the -recruits of France's colonial army to pass a day and a night until the -troopship carried them to Africa or French Indo-China or Madagascar. -Every day of the year the old fort received new guests--for a day and a -night. Many thousands of men had lodged in it.... - -Fort St. Jean was France's gate for her colonial soldiers. For a few -the gate to the Legion of Honour, for the majority the gate to -suffering and misery and sickness, to a nameless grave in the hot sands -of Africa. - -I wondered whither my road would lead me, in what manner I should -perish.... - - * * * * * - -The packet boat on which we were transported to Africa had left -Marseilles. - -Holding my hands to my ears, so that I might not hear a French word or -a French sound and be reminded that I was a legionnaire, I stood in the -bows staring at the wonders of Marseilles. There were a number of -little islands wrapped in blue mist, playing hide-and-seek, until the -sun appeared. Now the game was over and the veil of mist disappeared. -The hills and the houses lay glorious in an ocean of colour. There was -a rocky island with an ancient gloomy castle. I knew it to be the -prison of Monte Christo, the great adventurer of the elder Dumas, and I -felt very much as the imprisoned Count of Monte Christo must have felt. - -Marseilles disappeared. Ocean and sun arranged a wonderful play for a -poor devil of a legionnaire. Far out to sea the sun would try to catch -the little waves, throwing floods of brilliant light on pearly -cascading water. And then the little waves escaped again, amidst fun -and laughter, and ran off to inspect our ship. They struck the ship's -sides and seemed very much surprised that they were so solid. They said -so plainly enough, making a great deal of noise and fuss about it. But -they soon became good-humoured again and told the nicest stories about -fairy palaces of the deep and the peace of the ocean. Unthinkingly I -had taken my hands down, and heard my new comrades quarrelling amongst -themselves. The wine had not been fairly divided. - -The spell was broken. - -I recognised now well enough that I was standing on one of the lowest -steps of the world's ladder, but I had not expected contempt, disdain -and rough treatment to touch me so soon. The ship's cook began it. - -"Nix comprends," cried the cook. The old packet of the "Compagnie des -Messageries Maritimes," on which we made the voyage across the -Mediterranean to Oran, had made a miserable bargain when hiring that -cook. The thing was called Jacques. It even answered occasionally to -its name if it felt like it. It was malicious, wondrously versed in -profanity, addicted to lying, and very filthy. - -The first day there was nothing to eat for us until evening. At three -o'clock in the afternoon of the second day we were still waiting, very -hungry indeed, for our first meal, and I thought it time to have a talk -with Mr. Jacques. I told him that our board was paid for and that we -wanted something to eat. Quick, too. - -The thing answered with a nicely chosen assortment of oaths. He swore -like a--well, like a man from Marseilles. He was pleased to inform me -that according to his opinion dirty legionnaires were expressly made to -do a lot of waiting. If he should happen to have spare time on his -hands, he might try and get something to eat for us. But he was not -quite sure whether or not he would have time! - -Now this pleased me. I knew to a nicety how to arrange matters with -this thing. - -"Well, my son," I said lovingly, "won't you please take a look at these -eight comrades of mine? They are Germans and cannot talk French. But -they are very good at smashing things. They're quite experts at that -sort of thing. See how they are looking at you? I rather think they are -going to beat you horribly." - -"Allez donc!" remarked the cook dubiously. He seemed uneasy. - -"They are Prussians. Very likely they'll kill you. I am going to help -them at it." - -The cook took a look at me and a second look at the "Prussians." He was -rather pale and seemed to think that he was up against it. First he -cursed volubly, then he dived into his dark hole of a kitchen and -fetched out a tin filled with macaroni, a number of loaves of bread, -and a bucketful of wine--about a gallon. There were no knives, however, -exactly four forks for nine men, and one little drinking-cup. - -The other day one of these packets foundered somewhere on the Algerian -coast. I sincerely hope it was the packet I crossed on, and that -Jacques the cook was drowned.... - - * * * * * - -On the evening of the second day a visitor came to us from the -first-class part of the boat. He was a sergeant in the Foreign Legion -and ventured among the third-class passengers to have a look at his new -recruits. Being a Belgian, he could not talk German with them, and so I -had the honour of conversation with him for a couple of hours. - -Yes, the Germans made fine soldiers, although they were very -thick-headed. Such an obstinate race! It would be best for me if I -foregathered with Frenchmen only in the Legion. My French needed -cultivating badly, said the sergeant. Then he ordered a bottle of wine -and talked about the Legion. Lies, mostly. One of his stories is worth -the telling however. - -In 1880 a young German enlisted in the Legion. He was an excellent -soldier, spoke a brilliant French, and was considered a good fellow. A -detachment of the Legion, of which he was a member, was suddenly -attacked by Arabs near Saida. The commanding officer, a lieutenant, was -severely wounded, and all of the non-commissioned officers killed at -the first attack. Now the young German took command and led a furious -onslaught on the attacking Arabs, managing to hold out until help came. -Shot in the breast he was carried into camp, and the colonel of the -regiment gave his own Cross of the Legion of Honour to the dying man. -The young German asked the surgeon whether he had a chance of life. The -doctor said yes, of course. But, finally, the new Chevalier of the -Legion of Honour was told the truth and thereupon demanded a short -interview with his commanding officer. - -Telegrams went flying between the little desert station and the capital -of Germany.... In the evening the legionnaire died. A week later a -veiled lady appeared in Saida to take the body to the Fatherland. -Chevaliers of the Legion of Honour escorted their dead comrade, and the -French flag covered the coffin. The young German had been a royal -prince of Prussia! - -"Do you actually believe this yarn?" I asked the sergeant. - -"It's an absolute fact!" said he, very serious and very much offended. - -The same story was told me, with slight variations, many times in the -Legion. The "royal prince of Prussia" is part and parcel of the -unwritten history of the Legion, told from legionnaire to legionnaire, -and I have often wondered how much truth there may be in the legend. -Very likely the man of Saida had been a German aristocrat, the black -sheep of some good family, and in the course of time and telling the -Legion had made him a royal prince of Prussia. - - * * * * * - -Oran came in sight. Nine recruits promptly lined up on deck, staring -with wondering eyes at the land to whose shores destiny had sent them -to work and wage war for strangers, for a nation whose language even -they did not understand. Sandstone cliffs formed a rugged coast-line. -From their heights batteries were firing. The target was pontooned in -the sea at a distance of about 5000 yards from the shore. But the -columns of water thrown up by the bursting shrapnel never reached it. -The old sergeant shrugged his shoulders. - -"I am not interested in any shooting but in ours," he said; "anyway, at -shooting with the old Lebel gun the Legion can beat any on earth." - -He was at least loyal to his Legion, the old grey-haired sergeant, even -if he did tell so many lies.... - -The batteries were at any rate excellently masked. It was quite -impossible to detect their positions. Even when the old sergeant showed -me where they were mounted, I could see nothing. High up on the crags -the heavy cannon had been built in, behind little sandhills, flanked by -large rocks, the whole arrangement looking so very much like nature -that none could have suspected that it was artificial. The positions of -the guns were perfect. - -We gained the harbour. Suddenly the cliffs opened out East and West, -leaving an enormous gap. Out jumped, as from a conjurer's box, the -fortress of Oran, a maze of flat-roofed houses on hilly ground. The -inner harbour was ridiculously small, just a little square, its room -quite taken up by twelve torpedo-boats, two small cruisers and half a -dozen merchant ships. We had hardly touched the pier when a corporal -jumped on board. The famous corporal of the French army, the -maid-of-all-work, the busy French corporal who attends to everything -and has more real work to do than all the officers of a company -together. He read off our names from a list and marched us off to -quarters. - -It was a novel scene that met our gaze. Negroes, sparingly attired in -loin-cloth and red fez, hurried past in a strange shuffling quickstep, -carrying enormous loads on their heads; taciturn Arabs stood around, -wrapped from head to foot in white burnous-cloth; officers promenaded -with their women-folk and occasionally some fine lady would give us a -look of curiosity and compassion. A Spahi orderly galloped by on a -foaming horse and yelled in high amusement: - -"Bonjour, les bleus!" - -We were marched across the city square. The surroundings and houses had -nothing typical about them until we began to pass through little alleys -and byways, where naked black children were playing and rolling in the -dirt and filth. - -Then the sand came. The fine African sand that plays such a role in a -legionnaire's life. But the road was an ideal road, hard as stone under -its sandy covering. A generation of legionnaires, now long dead, had -built this road leading to the barracks high up in the hills. The road -swept in mighty curves along the cliffs. After an hour of marching we -came to some very antiquated barracks. They were a counterpart of Fort -St. Jean in Marseilles, one of the military hostelries for the many men -needed to feed France's colonial stomach. In the courtyard a lieutenant -called the roll and seemed very much amused when the new French -soldiers answered to their names with a stentorian German: "Hier!" - -We were assigned a nasty little hole of a room. A long wooden bench ran -along one side. The bare boards, fifteen feet long and six feet broad, -were to form our bed. There was a pitcher of water in one corner and a -pile of thin brown blankets lay in another. The earthen floor was -covered with half-smoked cigarettes and rubbish. - -After dark I slipped out, glad indeed to leave the wooden bench. The -unventilated little hole was not good enough for a dog! I found a snug, -quiet little corner in the courtyard and lay down, wrapped in my -overcoat--for about five minutes. Then shadowy figures in the uniform -of the Legion paid me a visit. - -Yes, a fine evening. Brilliant idea of mine, to sleep in the open air. -Filthy place, those quarters for recruits! Yes, nom d'un petard! The -shadowy figures were old legionnaires, on special duty to keep the -barracks in order. Did I like the Algerian wine? They wanted to know. I -did not know anything about it? Impossible! Did I know that the price -of a "litre," of a full quart, was but four sous even up here on the -hills? Remarkably fine wine! - -"It's a pity [described with a variety of choice epithets] that we -haven't the [here followed a similar ornate flow of oaths] four sous. -And the canteen isn't closed yet!" - -Small wonder that then I made my first purchase in Africa. Several -bottles of wine. - -... Somebody knocked at a door hard by, attracted by the jingling of -bottles presumably. The knocking was quite modest at first. Then it -became imperious. - -"Who is it?" I asked. - -"Oh, that's Reddy. He's thirsty, I suppose," said one of the -legionnaires. "He's in the lock-up." - -My new friends seemed to regard "being in the lock-up" as the most -natural thing that could happen to a legionnaire. We all went to the -door of the cell. There was a small air-hole high up in the wall and -presently a hand holding a tin cup appeared. - -"Fill up!" a gruff voice demanded. - -One of the legionnaires climbed on another's shoulders and emptied the -contents of half a bottle into the tin cup. - -"That's all right!" said the poor prisoner. - -"What is he locked up for?" I wanted to know. - -This the story. - -In the Legion he was nicknamed Reddy, being the happy possessor of a -flaming head of red hair. Reddy was a veteran who had ten years of -service to his credit and knew well enough that he was no good for -anything in all the world except soldiering in the Legion. Ten years is -a long time. But, when he was sent to the lonely old barracks on the -Oran cliffs to play at housekeeping for recruits, a great desire for -liberty came upon him. For hours together he would stare at the ocean. -Finally he walked quietly down to the harbour on a fine evening and -took his pick amongst the fishermen's boats. He did not waste time in -considering whether or not the Arab proprietor of the chosen boat would -like his proceedings. Such things as boats' chains did not worry Reddy. -A large stone did the business. Reddy gave the boat a shove, hoisted -sail, and sailed joyfully away. Spain was not far, and luck was with -the deserter. In exactly seventeen hours the legionnaire reached the -Spanish coast. He had landed at a very desolate spot, but after hunting -about he managed to find fishermen's huts. Presently he was the guest -of rough coast Spaniards, who did not quite know what to make of the -man in red breeches. He got dried fish and nice clear water to live on. -Reddy had forgotten all about civilian life, but in his dreams of -freedom dried fish and water had not cut a special figure. He did not -like it. He changed his mind, however, when a pretty Spanish girl -appeared. The girl happened to be the wife of the man who had fed -Reddy. The legionnaire neither knew nor cared. He chatted with the girl -for an hour or so in a mixture of French and bits of Spanish and -sign-talk, enjoying himself well enough until the husband joined in the -conversation with a big knife. A gorgeous fight ensued. The other -fishermen assisted their friend and Reddy had a hard run for it. But he -reached his boat and got safely away, cursing freedom, Spain, and dried -fish. For some time he cruised about and finally decided definitely -that freedom was no good. In twenty-five hours he was back in Oran. The -Arabian fisherman (who had seen the boat coming and wanted to talk -things over) received a series of mighty kicks from Reddy in lieu of -payment. Then the disgusted deserter reported to his commanding -officer. He explained that he had jumped into the boat just for fun, -that a big wind--a horrible storm, sir--had torn the boat from its -chain and carried it out to sea. "Yes, sir, I nearly starved...." - -The captain happened to be a man with a sense of humour and Reddy got -off with twenty days' imprisonment. - -"Damned lucky fellow, that! It's a wonder that he was not sent to the -penal battalion. That means dying by inches, you know," said the -legionnaires, and uncorked the last bottle. - -I stared at them. They laughed about Reddy's luck. They thought his -adventure very funny, this tragical adventure of a man who knew how to -fight for the freedom he desired and then did not know what to do with -liberty when he had gained it. - -My God, ten years in the Foreign Legion!... - - - - -CHAPTER III - -LEGIONNAIRE NUMBER 17889 - -French and American bugle-calls : Southward to the city of the Foreign -Legion : Sidi-bel-Abbes : The sergeant is not pleased : A final fight -with pride : The jokes of the Legion : The wise negro : Bugler Smith : -I help a legionnaire to desert : The Eleventh Company : How clothes are -sold in the Legion : Number 17889 - - -A bugle sounded. I was lying on the bare ground in a corner of the -courtyard, dozing in that strange borderland between sleeping and -waking. The bugle bothered me. The sounds were familiar, but my sleepy -brain could not place them. Again and again the calls sounded and half -dreaming I searched my memory. - -Now I remembered. It was the reveille, the morning call of the American -army. No, there could be no mistake--one never forgets the quick -nervous air of the American regular's morning call, nor its impressive -text: - - I can't get 'em up, - I can't get 'em up, - I can't get 'em up in the morning! - I can't get 'em up, - I can't get 'em up, - I can't get 'em up at all! - -The old familiar sounds very naturally suggested old remembrances. I -dreamt of a misty morning and a hammock slung between two mango-trees, -somewhere in the valley of Santiago de Cuba, and a very tired war -correspondent listening sleepily to the morning call floating over from -the tents of the Sixth Cavalry hard by. A hazy recollection of -fantastical foreign legions and broken fortunes crept into the dream. -But surely there were no such things. Little Smiley, trumpeter of "B" -troop of the Sixth, was sounding the morning call in his funny, -drawn-out fashion--of course it was Smiley: - - I can't get 'em up at all.... - -It was but a dream. Awakening, I sat up and stared about me. Where was -I, anyway? No mango-trees here, no tents, no Sixth Cavalry. And very -slowly I realised that Cuba and war corresponding were things of the -past, that the pebble-stones of the courtyard were part and parcel of a -French barrack and the soldiers in flaming red trousers running about -in the courtyard had a perfect right to call me their comrade. There -had been no mistake however about the morning call. There it sounded -for the third time: "I can't get 'em up"--the reveille of the U.S. -regulars! - -The riddle's solution was rather simple: The "get 'em up" signals of -the French and the American army are exactly the same. - -For three days we stayed at the old barracks high up on the cliffs near -Oran. On the third day the packet brought a new batch of recruits for -the Foreign Legion, twenty men, most of them Germans. We were all -bundled into a rickety little railway train and, at an average speed of -about fifteen miles an hour, we raced towards the South, to -Sidi-bel-Abbes, the recruiting depot of the Foreign Legion, and -headquarters of the Legion's first regiment, the "Premier Etranger." - -It took us six hours to reach Sidi-bel-Abbes. As the distance was about -eighty miles, I considered this a very poor performance and felt -personally aggrieved by the train's slowness. I had yet to learn that -from now on time would be no object to me. After leaving Oran our train -crawled through beautiful gardens and pretty little villas. The gardens -were followed by long stretches of fields and farmhouses, and then at -last civilisation vanished. The desert sands of Africa claimed their -right. The burning sun shone upon wavy lines of endless sandhills, upon -naked sand. - -After six hours' ride we arrived in Sidi-bel-Abbes. The little station -was swarming with men in the uniform of the Foreign Legion. At the -primitive little platform gate stood a guard of non-commissioned -officers, carefully watching for would-be deserters. - -A corporal took charge of us and we fell in line to march to the -Legion's barracks. - -This first march through the streets and byways of Sidi-bel-Abbes was a -strange experience. The city of the Foreign Legion seemed to be -composed of peculiar odours and yellow colours in many varieties. I -tried to classify the Sidi-bel-Abbes smell, but the attempt was a -miserable failure. The strangely sweet scents coming from everywhere -and nowhere, which apparently had a very composite composition, defied -a white man's nose. They were heavy, dull, oppressive; now reminding -one of jasmine blossoms, now of mould and decay. In an atmosphere of -yellow floated these scents. The atmosphere was yellow; yellow were the -old-fashioned ramparts of Sidi-bel-Abbes, built by soldiers of the -Legion many years ago; yellow was the fine sandy dust on the streets; -glaring yellow everywhere. The green gardens on the town's outskirts -seemed but animated little spots in a great compact mass of yellow. Far -away in the background the colossal ridges of the Thessala mountains -towered in gigantic shadows of pale yellow. Even the town's buildings -flared up in bright yellow. The people of Sidi-bel-Abbes, adapting -themselves to nature in mimicry, must needs paint their houses yellow! -There were a few other colours, but the universal yellow swallowed them -up without mercy. - -Between long rows of stately palms and through shady olive groves we -marched. An omnibus rattled past. All the seats were occupied by Arabs. -The white splendour of a mosque shone from afar. On the balcony of its -high minaret a Mohammedan priest in flowing white robes slowly walked -to and fro, sharply outlined against the sky. The mosque was far away, -but I could hear the priest's sonorous voice calling to prayer: - -"All' il Allah.... God is God." - -We passed through the ancient gates of the city, which was surrounded -with thick, clumsy walls, encircling all Sidi-bel-Abbes. The old walls -had seen plenty of fighting. In their time they had been very useful to -the small garrison in the continuous struggle with the Beni Amer, who -had again and again tried to retake the place. Along the large -well-kept road we marched. Suddenly, at a turning, the barrack -buildings loomed up on both sides of the road--the Spahis' cavalry -barracks and the quarters of the Foreign Legion. - - * * * * * - -In single file we marched through a small side entrance alongside of -the cumbrous barrack gate. On a long bench near the gate the guard was -sitting. They stared at us, grinning stupidly. Their sergeant, with his -hands in pockets and a cigarette between the teeth, sized us up, -apparently inspecting our physique as if he were taxing a herd of -cattle. Then he passed judgment. - -"Pas bon!" he remarked laconically to the corporal who escorted us. "No -good!" An ugly welcome it was. I stared at the immense gravel-covered -barrack yard and its scrupulous cleanness, at the immense buildings and -their naked fronts, at the bare windows. Why, this must be a madhouse -and I--surely I must be a madman, who had to live for five years (five -years said the contract) in a place like this. A weird feeling crept -over me. I must have lost my way. The moor had caught me. I was lost in -the jungle. Shut in by these walls I must spend my life. Must I live -among these uniformed human machines, amongst unthinking, unfeeling -automatons? My head swam. A feeling of despair came over me.... - -Everywhere in the barrack buildings windows were thrown open, and -legionnaires put their heads out, yelling: - -"Eh--les bleus! Bonjour, les bleus!" - -From all sides they came at a run, calling out to each other joyously, -"Les bleus." Our arrival appeared to be an amusement that should not be -missed. Hundreds of legionnaires gathered around us, while we were -waiting for orders in front of the regimental offices. The contrast -between the snowy neatness of their white fatigue uniforms and our -shabby attire was very much in their favour. We stood a crossfire of -questions, answers and jokes. - -"Hello! Hadn't enough to eat, eh?" somebody yelled in German. - -"That's as may be," replied Herr von Rader in cutting sarcasm. "You -didn't come to the Legion because you had too much money, did you?" -Applause and laughter greeted this answer. - -"Any one from Frankfort amongst you?" another asked. "Merde!" said he, -as nobody replied and turned and walked off. - -Then came a surprise. A negro in the uniform of the Legion stalked up -to me, regarding me dubiously, shaking his head as if he was not quite -sure what to make of me. - -"Talk U.S.?" he asked finally. - -"Guess I do," I said. - -"Golly," yelled the nigger, "here's another! You'se a h---- of a d---- -fool! Doucement, doucement, white man--now, don't get mad. You'se -surely is a fool! What in h---- you want to come here for?" - -The humour of the situation struck me. Besides, I always rather liked -darkies. - -"What did _you_ come here for?" I asked him. - -"Me?" said the nigger disgusted, "me? This child's been fooled, see? -I'se in Paris (this here nigger's been 'bout pretty much) and a great -big doggone Paris cop nabbed me, see? Oh, 'bout nuffing particular. -I'se been having a swell time in one ob dem little Paris -restorangs--sweet times, honey! I'se kissed all the girls and I'se -kicked eberyding else. Say--it was a mess. But this here cop got in and -he got me all right--no flies on the Paris cops, honey! In the station -house they done a lot of talking to this here nigger, 'bout French -penitentiaries, mostly. They did done tell me, it was penitentiary or -Legion. This child stuck to the American Consul, o' course. Say, he was -no good either. Says he, he done got no time to go fooling wid fresh -niggers. Take yer medicine, says he. Which I did--taking the Legion. -Nix penitentiary for me. That's what this child come here for, sonny! -Bet yer a cigarette you'se be as sick of them Legion people in 'bout -four weeks as this nigger is, sure. No good. Nix good. D---- bad!" - -"I knew that before," said I. - -"Then you'se sure done gone crazy, to come he-ar, sonny. Wait a bit, -white man. I'se going to tell Smith. He's an American. He's all right. -So long!" - -And in the shambling gait of his race he walked hurriedly away. One of -the recruits hailed from Munich. He was in high debate with another -Bavarian legionnaire.... - -"You're from Munich, you fool? There's no beer here!" the old -legionnaire yelled. "Why didn't you stay in Munich and stick to the -beer, eh? Isn't it bad enough if one Munich fool drinks their sticky -old wine? Why, I've almost forgotten how a 'Masskrug' looks, and what -the 'Hofbrauehaus' is like. It's a sinful shame, it is. Yes, there's no -beer here. You'll be surprised, you will!" - -I was still laughing at the two legionnaires from the city of beer and -"Steins" when an old soldier started talking to me very softly. - -"Won't you give me your suit of clothes? You must sell it, you know, -and you will not get more than a few sous for it." - -I looked at the man. "Why do you want my clothes?" I asked him. - -"To get away! I must get out of this! My God, if I had civilian -clothes, I might get through. I'd run away at once and I am pretty sure -I could manage to sneak out of Algeria. You'll give me your suit, won't -you? This is about my only chance. I'll never have enough money to buy -a suit. Is it all right? As soon as you are uniformed, I'll come for -the suit. I can easily find out in what company they are going to put -you." - -Again the man looked at me with scared, pleading eyes, anxiously -waiting. He was evidently in deadly earnest. I was deeply impressed. He -meant to desert, of course. I had read enough about the Foreign Legion -to know that desertion from that corps was a desperate and perilous -undertaking. This poor devil was determined to risk it and--I could -help him. It occurred to me that, in a very short time, I might feel -very much as he felt now. Certainly he should have my clothes.... - -"You can have them and welcome." - -"That's the best piece of luck I've had since I came to this -'verdammte' Legion," said the man. He was a German, a Pomeranian, I -should say, judging from the dialect he spoke. - -Meanwhile Black (John William Black was the negro's very appropriate -name) had come back, with a bugler who looked as much like a "Yank" as -anybody could look. - -"So you're American?" the bugler asked. - -"About half of me is," I said. - -"Oh, German-American! I see. That's all right. It's pretty tough work -here in the Legion; well, you'll see for yourself. I'm mighty glad to -talk U.S. to a white man. The nigger's no good--you know you're not, -Blacky!--and me and him are the only two Americans in this damfool -outfit. Blacky's always kicking up a row about something, and he spends -most of his time in prison, and when he's not there he generally -manages to get drunk. Beat's me, on what! He's a pretty hard case, -ain't you, Blacky?" - -"Shoore--I--am, you son-of-an-old-trumpet!" grinned the negro. - -"I wonder what company you'll be assigned to," continued the -"son-of-an-old-trumpet." "If the sergeant should ask you whether you -had any preference, tell him you would like to be assigned to the -eleventh. That's my company. We could play poker. I could show you the -ropes, too. Life's no snap in this outfit, you know!" - -"Aren't there any other Americans in the Legion?" - -"Oh yes, about twenty. There are seven with the fourth battalion of the -first, somewhere in Indo-China. The second regiment of the Legion in -Saida has thirteen or fourteen American legionnaires. Two of them are -sergeants, and one is colour-sergeant; McAllister is his name. He's a -good man. Yes, about twenty boys from the States have a hand in this -Legion business!" - -"Garde a vous!" commanded the sergeant, coming out of the regimental -offices. "Attention!" - -The roll was called and we were divided up amongst two companies, the -third and the eleventh. I was assigned to the eleventh--"la onzieme." -We marched across the drill-ground to one of the barrack buildings. In -the storeroom of the eleventh company underwear and white fatigue -uniforms, woven from African "Alfa" fibres, were issued to us. Then -each man got a nightcap. These rather unsoldierly caps were worn by all -of the legionnaires in the cold African nights. Soap and towels the -sergeant-major also distributed, remarking that we seemed to be badly -in need of soap, which certainly was true. We were then marched off to -a small house at the back of the drill-ground. Its one room contained a -number of primitive shower-baths. While we were bathing, a sergeant -watched at the door, critically inspecting and exhorting us again and -again: - -"Bon Dieu, get a good wash! Be sure you get a thorough wash!" - -After we had dressed in the fatigue uniforms he commanded: "Take your -civilian clothes under your arms," and led us to a little side entrance -of the barracks. A sentinel opened the door--and hell broke lose. -Arabs, Levantines, Spanish Jews, niggers beleaguered the door, and the -sentinel had to use the butt of his rifle--he seemed to like the job -though--to keep them from getting in. In many languages they yelled, -gesticulating with hands and feet, jumping about, making a horrible -noise. At first I had no idea what it all meant. Then I understood. -They wanted to buy our clothes ... that was all. They got very excited -over the business and seemed to think they could buy our things for a -copper piece or two. Finally the sergeant acted himself as our agent -and arranged prices. - -Even then it was a good thing for them. Any second-hand clothes dealer -in any of the world's large cities would have looked at the scene with -the blackest envy. A good suit of clothes fetched two francs, boots -eighty centimes, white shirts and cravats were thrown into the bargain. -Every one of the native "men of business" knew well, of course, that -the recruits were forced to sell at once. Civilian clothes are not -allowed to be kept in the Legion. None of the recruits got more than -three or four francs for his things. It was a great piece of swindling. -I was saved the trouble of bartering with the native riff-raff. The -legionnaire who took an interest in my clothes turned up, while the -sergeant was busy at the door, pulled my clothes-bundle softly from -under my arm, stuffed it under his jacket and walked away in a hurry. -Next day he was missed, Smith told me.... - -Our next visit was to the eleventh company's office, where our names -and professions were entered on the company's lists. It was nothing but -a matter of form. Herr von Rader declared that his father was the -Chancellor of the German Supreme Court and that he himself was by -profession a juggler and lance-corporal of marine reserves. And the -colour-sergeant put it all down in the big book without the ghost of a -smile. - -Each of us was given a number, the "matricule" number of the Foreign -Legion. Our names mattered nothing. We were called by numbers: My -number was 17889. - -From now on I was merely a number, a strict impersonal number.... They -number men in penitentiaries. It was just the same in the Legion. I had -got what I wanted. The great Legion's impersonality had swallowed me -up. What was my name now?... Number 17889.... - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE FOREIGN LEGION'S BARRACKS - -In the company's storeroom : Mr. Smith--American, legionnaire, -philosopher : The Legion's neatness : The favourite substantive of -the Foreign Legion : What the commander of the Old Guard said at -Waterloo : Old and young legionnaires : The canteen : Madame la -Cantiniere : The regimental feast : Strange men and strange things : -The skull : The prisoners' march : The wealth of Monsieur Rassedin, -legionnaire : "Rehabilitation" : The Koran chapter of the Stallions - - -The eleventh company's storeroom was in a state of siege. We besieged -the place, pushing and being pushed, hunting for standing room, but -everywhere standing in somebody's way. The "non-coms" had very soon -exhausted their vocabulary of strong language and could only express -their feelings in fervent prayers that fifteen thousand devils might -fly away with those thrice confounded recruits--ces malheureux bleus. A -corporal, two sergeants, a sergeant-major and half a dozen legionnaires -detached for storeroom work continually fell over each other in their -haste to get done at last with the trying on of uniforms and with the -issue of the kit. Countless jackets and pants were tried on; they put -numerous "kepis" upon our sinful heads, and again and again they -anathematised our awkwardness in priceless adjectives. In big heaps the -property of our future Legion life was dealt out to us; red pants and -fatigue uniforms, blue jackets and overcoats, sashes, knapsacks, -field-flasks, leather straps and belts, a soldier's kit in a -bewildering jumble. - -"Ready!" said the sergeant-major at last with a grin of relief. "And -that's something to be thankful for. Here, Corporal Wassermann, take -them away. Voila! Off with your mess of recruits. Try and make -legionnaires out of the beggars. Yes, you'll find it a big contract. I -wish you joy, Corporal Wassermann." - -"En avant, marche!" commanded the corporal. Once more the -non-commissioned officers of the storeroom told us exactly what they -thought of us and where they wished us to go. Their remarks were -extremely pointed and expressive of their disgust. - -We mounted three flights of stairs and the passing legionnaires of the -company stared at us in curiosity. - -Through a long corridor we marched, until the corporal kicked a door -open and led us into a big room, our future quarters. We looked about -our new home. Twenty beds were in the room, ten on one side, ten on the -other, perfectly aligned. In the middle of the room stood two big -wooden tables and long benches, scoured gleaming white. Everything in -the place was scrupulously neat and clean. A rack in the corner held -our rifles. Suspended from the ceiling, over the tables, there was a -cupboard--the "pantry" of our quarters. It struck me as very practical. -Knives and forks, the men's tin plates and tin cups, our bread rations -were kept there. Half a dozen legionnaires were sitting on bunks and -benches, cleaning their rifles and polishing their leather belts--our -comrades. - -Corporal Wassermann, lying in his bunk puffing a cigarette, took a good -long look at us. He was little more than a boy. - -"Eh bien," he said, "I am your corporal. You will have to learn French -as quickly as possible. That's very important. Keep your ears open and -listen to everything that's said. That is the right way to go about it. -We shall begin drilling to-morrow. To-day you will have to arrange your -bunks and things. I shall arrange your bunks in such a fashion that -each of you shall be placed between two old legionnaires. You've only -got to watch how they fix their things and do the same. It is all very -simple. When you have finished arranging your stuff, you can do what -you please." - -Then he assigned a bunk to each of us and went off whistling. To the -canteen, of course. - - * * * * * - -"Hallo!" said Smith. He had just come in. "That's all right. So you've -not only been sent to the eleventh, but to my room as well. And that's -all right. That's my bunk over there at the window. Take the one next. -It's been given to a recruit already, you say? Oh, kick him out, kick -him out. What do you suppose the corporal cares where you bunk. I'll -fix it with him. And that's all right. I'm going to call you Dutchy. -Now don't object, because I'm going to call you Dutchy anyhow, see?" - -He was evidently pleased. So was I. From the start I had taken a liking -to this man with the sharply cut features and the curious air of -infinite knowledge. The pasteboard card on his bed said: - - "Jonathan Smith, No 10247, soldat 1ere[1] classe." - - [1] The Foreign Legion and the French army in general make a - distinction between first-class privates and second-class - privates. The first-class private has the grade of a - lance-corporal. - -He was the company's bugler, and had nine years' service in the Foreign -Legion to his credit. Fever and privation and vice had engraved hard -lines in his face, and when he rolled his cigarettes in French fashion, -his hands trembled just a little. His hair was quite grey. He had -fought against Chinese pirates in French Indo-China, he had campaigned -in Madagascar and won the French medal for bravery on colonial service. -During this campaign he had been shot in the shoulder and had had a -severe attack of jungle fever. There was no garrison in Algeria, be it -on the Morocco frontier, be it on the Sahara line, where he had not -been stationed once at least. He was a perfect encyclopaedia of all -things connected with the Legion. He could swear fluently in English, -German, French, and Arabian, and had even acquired a pretty fair -knowledge of Chinese expressions of disgust. He was friend and brother -to several Arabs with doubtful characters, he could recite whole -chapters of the Koran by heart, and knew a great deal about Morocco. -Which will be seen later on. - -He was in fact a man well worth knowing. - -From the very beginning there was a perfect understanding between us. -He volunteered the information that he was a native of California and -had "seen a few things in his life." I answered with the bare statement -that I was a German, and had lived in the United States for some years. -Both remarks were the basis for a tacit agreement to keep within the -limits of strict impersonality. - -He lay on his bunk, and I tried to get some order in my newly issued -belongings. - -"Your shoulders have been drilled into shape somewhere?" said Smith. - -"They were." - -"States?" - -"No, Germany." - -"Oh, I see. Thought you might have been in the U.S. army. Wish I had -stuck to it." - -"Have you tried the Legion's tobacco yet?" he continued. - -We rolled ourselves cigarettes from strong, black Algerian tobacco, and -Smith stretched himself comfortably on his bunk with his knees drawn -up, his cap pulled down over his eyes. Smoking contentedly, the old -soldier preached me the Legion's wisdom: - -"There's no money here--the pay is not worth speaking of, I mean. -There's a lot of work. It's a hard life all round. That's the Foreign -Legion. There's no earthly reason why any man should be fool enough to -serve in this outfit, unless he's specially fond of being underfed and -overworked. When I come to think of it--I don't know what the dickens -made me stay nine years! Because there's something doing once in a -while, I suppose. Well, I'll stick it out for the pension now. Anyway, -you've joined the Legion--more fool you--you're here and you can make -up your mind that you are here to stay. And you must look at things in -the right way. Legion life can be stood right enough, if you don't let -yourself be worried by anything at all, if you're as ice-cold as -Chicago in January, and if you're lucky enough to see something doing. -Whether we march against the Arabs or Chinese (there's a battalion of -us in Indo-China, you know) or to 'Maroc' at last, that's all the same, -but it's good to be on the move in the Legion. Then a legionnaire's -life ain't half bad. Don't ever forget, though, to have your feelings -frozen into an iceblock. Don't let anything bother you. No use getting -mad about things here. Just say to yourself: 'C'est la Legion.' When -you're dead played out, and you think you can't stand it any longer; -when the fever's got you by the neck; when you're sitting and fuming in -the 'cellule' (that's the prison, Dutchy), or when some sergeant's -giving you hell--grin, sonny, and say to yourself: 'C'est la Legion!' -That's the Legion. Do your work and don't worry. If any of the fellows -get fresh, hit quick and hit hard--c'est la Legion. And don't forget -that the main thing in this Foreign Legion business is neatness and -cleanliness. You want to have your things in order, you want to be -neat. So!" - -He rummaged in the bundle of uniform things on my bed, pulling out one -by one jackets, pants, shirts, &c., and folding them with astonishing -quickness. I watched him in wonder. This old soldier with his big rough -hands had fingers as clever as any chambermaid's. Piece after piece he -folded rapidly, smoothing every crease with almost ridiculous care. -Each of the folded pieces he measured, giving each the same length, -from the tips of his fingers to his elbow. Finally he erected with -these bundles, upon the shelf at the wall over my bed, an ingenious -structure of uniforms, the "paquetage" of the Legion. The legionnaire -has no clothes-chest like the American regular. To get over this -difficulty he invented his "paquetage," which is a work of art, solving -the military problem of how to stow away several uniforms in a compact -space without crumpling them. - -With half-shut eyes the bugler stood in front of my bunk and regarded -his handiwork. - -"And that's all right," he said. "That's a 'paquetage,' how it should -be. It's 'fantasie,' pure 'fantasie,' Dutchy dear. Making 'fantasie'[2] -it is called in the Legion, if one tries to be always 'tres chic' and -'parfaitement propre,' to be a swell. Yes, that's the Legion. We are -lazy by preference, but we're always neat. Always!" - - [2] This curious expression of the Foreign Legion is, of - course, an imitation of the Moorish "fantasia." - -The "paquetage" was not the only miracle. I was very much impressed by -the way every bit of available space was put to the utmost use. A -legionnaire keeps his linen in his haversack. For his letters, his -books, for the few other articles of private property he possesses, he -finds room in his knapsack; his brushes and his polishing-rags are -carefully stored away in a little sack which hangs on the wall. Even -the most trivial of his belongings has its appointed place. A -legionnaire keeps his kit in such perfect order that he can find -everything in the dark. - -While I was making my bed, the bugler looked on for a while, grinning -all the time. Finally he couldn't stand it any longer. He pulled the -blankets and the sheets I had spread out away again and started showing -me how to make a bed "a la Legion." Bed-making was another of the -Legion's tricks. In a few seconds Smith had arranged the bed-clothes in -wonderful accuracy, blankets drawn tight as a drum, pillows placed in -mathematical exactness. - -"Merde!" he said, "that's how we legionnaires fix our bunks. It's easy -enough." - -"Merde?" I asked, "what does 'merde' mean, anyway?" - -It was a French word unknown to me. Smith used it continually, -underlining his remarks with it, so to speak. He seemed to like it. He -pronounced it with much care, lovingly. Naturally I thought that it -must be some especially forceful invective, the more so as the -sergeant-major in the storeroom (who certainly had not been in good -humour) had said "merde" about five hundred times in ten minutes. And -the other legionnaires in the room liked it apparently no less. The -"merdes" were always flying about.... - -"Well, what is this 'merde'?" - -Smith nearly had a fit. - -"Merde?" he yelled, laughing as if he had suddenly gone crazy, "what -'merde' means? Why, you owl, 'merde' is ----." - -He used a word which certainly does not exist in the vocabulary of -polite society, an old Anglo-Saxon substantive, describing a most -natural function and expressing huge disgust when used as an invective. - -This little word is the favourite substantive of the Foreign Legion. It -is _the_ substantive of the Legion! The English Tommy rejoices in his -time-honoured adjective "bloody," the American revels in his precious -"damned," the Mexican cavalryman enjoys his malignant hissing -"caracho," and the legionnaire is distinctly unhappy without his -well-beloved "merde." It's the most used word in the Foreign Legion. It -has suffered curious derivations: Merdant, merdable.... It has a happy -home in all French regiments--it is part and parcel of the French -army's soldier-talk. The Legion worships it. Out of it the legionnaire -has even fabricated a verb. When an officer gives him a "dressing -down," the legionnaire says simply and devoutly: - -"Il m'enmerde!" - -The French army's primitive substantive of disgust is very ancient. It -is time-honoured, it is classical. - -At Waterloo the commander of Napoleon's Old Guard is said to have -replied to the challenge to surrender, pompously: "The Old Guard dies, -but it does not surrender!" In the French army, however, it is an old -tradition that he simply yelled: - -"Merde!" - - * * * * * - -Invectives of all descriptions were used with much vigour in our -quarters just now. The old legionnaires took a delight in kicking the -clumsy recruits about. In drastic terms they told them exactly what -they thought of them, of their past, of their families, of their -future. They felt very sorry (so they said) for the poor old eleventh -company having been buncoed into taking such an awful pack of useless -recruits. Many were the fools they had seen in the Legion, but never -such idiots as we were. Pretty fellows, those recruits! A nice -assortment of pigs! Fine times they (the poor old legionnaires) would -have, living in the same quarters with these "bleus." - -"Why--there's one of 'em sitting on my bed. What's this bow-legged -monkey doing on my bunk? Get off! Get off quick, son of a jackal! Do -you suppose that my bunk's a manoeuvring-ground for dirty recruits?" - -The old legionnaires knew their business, however. Abuse alone was not -good enough. They wanted to see practical results. So they explained to -the "bleus" that recruits, and especially such recruits as now present, -could never manage to build a "paquetage" without help. That was a -foregone conclusion. Said one of them: - -"Can't you see that? If such a thing as intelligence had a place in -your empty heads, you would have seen long ago that you needed help. -Who's going to help you? We are. We old legionnaires will help you--we -who know everything and can fix anything. But we're thirsty, you see. -Tant de soif! Such a thirst. I put it to you: Is it right that -recruits, recruits, mind you, who have just sold their clothes and got -a lot of money in their pockets, should look on and say nothing, while -their betters are dying of thirst. Is it right, eh?" - -There the others joined in: "Allons donc pour un litre--let's drink a -litre in the canteen." - -The arguments of the old fellows met with enormous success. At frequent -intervals old and young legionnaires left the quarters to pay a visit -to the canteen and render homage to the immortal "litre" of the Foreign -Legion. The whole performance was an old custom. Old legionnaires -always rejoice when new recruits arrive--anticipating many pleasant -walks to the canteen.... - -One of the recruits, a Swiss, on returning from the canteen found that -the greater part of the kit on his bed had disappeared. Almost -everything was gone. A complete uniform, a fatigue suit, an overcoat -and several other things were missing. The Swiss, scared to death, -asked every man in the room if he had seen his things. But his kit had -vanished. - -The old legionnaires gathered about his bunk. Very likely he had lost -part of his outfit while coming up the stairs, they said. They told him -that one must look after one's kit in the Legion. If he could not find -the missing uniforms, he would be certain to be sent to prison at the -very least. He might even be punished with deportation into the penal -battalion. Losing part of the uniform was the very worst crime known in -the Legion. - -The Swiss ran up and down the stairs hunting for his lost uniforms, but -naturally found nothing. - -Again the old legionnaires talked to him. They played their part very -well. - -"You're a poor devil," they said. "We're sorry for you. We'll try and -help you. It's a very difficult case, but we might be able to do -something. The non-commissioned officer of the third company's -storeroom is a pretty decent fellow. He'll do something for an old -legionnaire. We'll try him. There's just the chance that he will give -us the stuff you have lost from his stock of uniforms--for a little -money. He's fond of making something on the quiet. Five francs would -do, and what are measly five francs anyway, if they are the means of -saving you from prison?" - -The poor devil was glad enough to get off with paying five francs. It -was just what he had got for his clothes. - -... Very soon the old soldiers came back. That good fellow of a -sergeant had given them everything needed! Faultless new uniforms! And -the Swiss recruit thanked the old thieves profusely. - -Personally I was angry at the shabby trick played on the poor devil. I -had known from the very outset that it was only a trick. The rascals -had stolen the recruit's uniforms, and had then sold him back his own -things! It certainly was no business of mine, and I did not interfere. -In a way the comic side of the thing appealed to my sense of humour, -but it was a nasty trick all the same. While I was wondering whether I -should tell that fool of a Swiss how he had been done, one of the old -legionnaires happened to sit down on my bunk. - -"Get off my bed!" I said. - -Blank astonishment was written on the man's face. - -"What d----d cheek for a raw recruit. You impertinent ..." - -"My bed's my bed. Get off. Sit on your own bed. Just now you raised a -row because one of us was sitting on yours. Get away from here and be -quick about it." - -The old legionnaire rose slowly. - -"Viens la bas!" he yelled. "Come down below to the yard with me. I'll -teach you that a good-for-nothing recruit should respect an old -soldier. Come down!" - -Together we descended the stairs, a few other legionnaires following. -The bugler was amongst them. - -"Give him hell," he said. "Look out for his feet!" - -I was very pleased with myself. It was bad enough to be in the Legion, -but one could at least play the man.... - -At the back entrance of the company's quarters, in a small alley-way, -we found a quiet spot to settle our little difference. He kicked -furiously in French fashion, and I barely managed to escape. Then we -closed in and in a second were rolling over and over on the -gravel-covered ground. Now one had the upper hand, now the other. My -antagonist's strength surpassed mine by far. I could do but very little -in his iron grip. I began to wonder how many of my ribs would survive -the fray. But all at once I got the upper hand. Again and again he -tried to get a grip of my throat, but I caught his hand every time. We -rolled over and over. My strength was fast sinking. At the last moment -almost, I noticed a big stone on the ground quite near his head. I -wrested my hand free. Seizing my antagonist by the hair, I pounded his -head against the stone as hard as I could. Once--twice--four times.... -His grip relaxed.... - -"Assez!" he yelled, "enough." - -"Tres bien," the onlooking old legionnaires said, "very good." - -The bugler was disgusted. (So was I.) "Now that's the Legion all over. -I wonder why the people here can't box like Christians instead of -rolling about like pigs. You've licked him, though. And that's all -right." - -The man I had "fought" with rose with some difficulty and walked up to -me. We shook hands.... - -"You were in the right when you ordered me off your bed," he said. -"Parbleu, that was a good idea with the stone. Eh, you'll be a good -legionnaire very soon. We men of the Legion quarrel often, but at heart -we're always comrades. C'est la Legion! I propose we return to our -quarters again...." - -And in the room we brushed the dust from each other's uniforms, like -old friends.... - - * * * * * - -"You're tired, I guess," said the bugler with a grin. "Let's go and -have a litre." - -I had no objection. - -"I am paying for this," he declared, as we crossed the drill-ground. - -The regimental canteen was in a small building in a corner of the -barrack square. We opened the door and--I at least must have looked -very much surprised. There was an awful noise in the little room. A -great many soldiers were talking and laughing and singing and yelling -in many languages; in German, French, English, Italian and -Spanish--there was the jingle of many bottles and glasses. As we -entered a German was singing: - - Trinken wir noch ein Troepfchen - Aus dem kleinen Henkeltoepfchen, - Oh, Suss ... a ... na! - -In sharp marching rhythm a Frenchman sang the refrain of one of the -Legion's songs: - - Le sac, ma foi, toujours au dos ... - -The canteen was crowded. Hundreds of legionnaires in white fatigue -uniforms or in blue jackets sat on the long benches, drinking, -laughing. On the wooden tables bottles stood in long rows and deep red -wine sparkled in the glasses. - -"There's no room here," I said. - -Smith grinned in answer: "Room? Nom d'un petard, what do we want room -for? The litre is the main thing, sonny!" - -Pushing through the crowd he reached the bar and held up a forefinger -with a serious face. This seemed to be a well-known signal to the young -woman behind the bar. Without saying a word she took three copper -pieces from the bugler, giving him in exchange a full bottle of wine -and two glasses. "Madame la Cantiniere" could not be over twenty years -old. Like a queen seated on her throne she held sway behind her bar and -ruled the crowd of noisy, yelling legionnaires in quiet authority, -imposing and comical at the same time. - -Madame la Cantiniere was the sutler of the Foreign Legion. Old -tradition demands that a woman should keep the Legion's canteen. -"Madame la Cantiniere de la Legion" usually is married, but she is the -official head of the canteen and not her husband. The business belongs -to her. On the march and in the field she wears the blue sutler's -uniform and follows the regiment with her little sutler's waggon. - -On a bench in the corner Smith found seats for us, and had two big -glasses filled (the Legion does not waste time drinking out of small -wineglasses!)--had the glasses filled before we sat down. - -"Here's luck," he said. "There's no such thing as luck in this place, -but one keeps on wishing for it just the same. Here's luck, Dutchy!" - -He emptied his glass at a gulp, wiping his soft fair moustache in great -satisfaction. _And_ he refilled his glass at once. - -"The wine's good. And that's all right. Sonny, there are miles and -miles of vineyards round this here Sidi-bel-Abbes. The hilly ground -near the Thessala mountains is a single large vineyard. There are times -in Algeria when they let the wine run on the street. It's so plentiful -and cheap that it isn't worth the casks. There would be no Legion, I -tell you, if it wasn't for the cheap wine!" - -With wondering eyes I surveyed the men in the canteen and the canteen -itself. The smoke of many hundreds of cigarettes filled the place with -a heavy bluish vapour. The noise was indescribable. One had to yell to -be understood by one's neighbour, a quietly spoken word would have been -lost in the turmoil. Everybody was yelling and everybody seemed to be -in high glee. The legionnaires were having what they considered a good -time. They jumped on the tables, kicking and dancing, jingled their -glasses, threw empty bottles about and made fun of everybody and -everything. Every minute the uproar increased. These hard-faced, -hard-eyed men were like children at some forbidden game, trying to get -as much fun as possible while the teacher was away. - -Suddenly a man with a wonderfully clear and strong voice began singing -a love-song. Noise and tumult ceased at once. I listened in amazement. -A legionnaire sang for his comrades, in a beautiful tenor voice, in a -voice reminding me of great singers I had heard long ago. A poor devil -of a legionnaire possessed a voice many a singer would have envied. He -sang a French song, every verse closing pitifully: - - L'amour m'a rendu fou.... - -The song of a lover who had loved and lost, a song of love and ladies, -of love's delights and love's misery, sung in the canteen of the -Foreign Legion. - -With burning eyes I looked at the listening throng of men in red and -blue until I saw nothing but their shadowy outlines like a far-away -_fata Morgana_--I was lost in a dream of memories. - -Absolute quiet reigned. The song held these men of rough life and -rougher manners spellbound; the glorious mellow voice, now clear as a -trumpet, now low and sweet as a woman's caress, must have appealed to -every heart. The song was at an end: - - L'amour m'a rendu fou.... - -For a moment, for a few seconds, all remained hushed. And then one -would think that these men were ashamed of having been so soft-hearted. -A legionnaire jumped on a table and yelled: - -"Silence.... No more fool songs for us! Vive le litre!" - -"Le litre!" ... a hundred men roared. The shouting and the uproar and -the noise commenced anew. Blacky, the negro, had come in and was soon -dancing the dance of his race. He was a master of the turnings and -twistings of the cake-walk. There were universal yells of appreciation -as he bent backwards, high-stepping grotesquely. Blacky was much -applauded and seemed to be a very happy nigger. Madame la Cantiniere -did a roaring trade. The copper pieces were continually jingling on the -tin-covered surface of the bar. La Cantiniere was a very busy woman -this evening, passing many hundreds of wine bottles to her thirsty -clientele of legionnaires. Glasses were broken, pieces of glass lay -everywhere on the tables and on the floor, and here and there little -red pools of wine had formed. The fun grew fast and furious and the -noise almost unbearable. - -My friend the bugler had emptied glass after glass and was in high good -humour. - -"Why, it is the regiment's holiday!" he laughed. - -The "fifth day" it was--pay-day. The Legion's humour called pay-day the -regimental holiday. This humour was somewhat grim in view of the fact -that pay in the Legion meant but five centimes a day, twenty-five -centimes for the pay-roll period of five days. Twenty-five centimes are -almost exactly five cents in American, or twopence-halfpenny in English -money. - -So the Legion's "holiday" was at the bottom of all the noise and fun in -the canteen! These men in the Legion measured the passing of time by -their miserable pay-days only. Such a fifth day marked the glorious -epoch when two comrades could buy exactly five "litres" of wine for -their joint pay. Certainly such frivolity punished itself: there was no -money left for the next five days' tobacco. So wise men in the Legion -buy the customary package of tobacco for three sous, and drink but one -bottle of wine every five days. This is what the soldier of the Foreign -Legion works for: One bottle of wine and one package of tobacco every -five days! - -Shrilly a signal sounded through the noise--lights out! Madame la -Cantiniere held up her hand, made a funny little bow, and said with a -smile: - -"Bonsoir, messieurs.--Good night, gentlemen." - -The Legion teaches obedience.... In a very few seconds the canteen was -empty and everybody was hurrying across the drill-ground to quarters. - - * * * * * - -When roll-call had been finished in our quarters and everybody had gone -to bed, I quietly left the room. Sleep did not appeal to me that night. -The still of night lay over the barrack-yard. The white moonlight shone -on the bare walls of the barracks. The stars of far south glittered in -their trembling beauty. I stared up into the splendour of the heavens -and brooded over happiness far away--passed--dead.... - -I heard footsteps and saw a shadow moving somewhere on the other side. -And over there a trembling awkward voice sang softly: - - L'amour m'a rendu fou.... - -Far into the night I crouched in a corner of the Legion's barrack-yard. - - * * * * * - -The first days, the first weeks of life in the Legion were quite -sufficient to render me immune against strange things and strange -sights. Sometimes it seemed to me as if my nerves were quite dulled. -Every day brought monstrous sights and hideous impressions. I shuddered -at unheard-of things and wondered at these strange specimens of -humanity. But the next moment some new horror made me forget what I had -just seen. - -In a few minutes' walk with the bugler round the barrack-yard one could -meet with a variety of sights like the following: - -A legionnaire ran past us, shrieking in extreme pain, splashed with -blood. He had cut off the forefinger and middle finger of his right -hand so as to be unfit for active service. - -A poor crippled Arab, bent with age, stopped when he saw us. He was -evidently on his way to the kitchen buildings to beg for food. In his -hands he carried a Standard oil-can. A Standard oil-tin as receptacle -for food in connection with an Arab, Algeria and the Foreign Legion -struck me as something distinctly new. But there was more to follow. In -very broken German the Arab addressed us: - -"Gut' Tag, legionnaires. Cigarette! Ick sein deutsch--Magdeburg -gewesen--1870." - -The man had fought in the great Franco-German war and had been in -Magdeburg as a prisoner of war! - -Hardly had I recovered from my surprise when a passing legionnaire made -me stare in horror. The man had the grinning image of a skull tattooed -on his forehead! He smiled at my frightened face and was evidently very -pleased at the impression he had made. I remember saying to the bugler -how horrible it was that a man should disfigure his face for life in -such a manner, and I remember that Smith only shrugged his shoulders in -reply. - -"Why, that's nothing," he said. "Tattooing of that kind is quite -customary in the Battalion of the Disciplined." - -I could not agree with the bugler, I could not see a mere freak in this -horrible tattoo-mark. To me it spoke of hope lost for ever, of a life -so dreadful that a man no longer cared whether he was disfigured or -not. - -Pleased with the notice he attracted, the legionnaire with the skull on -his forehead walked up to us and spoke to me: - -"Eh, recruit, do you want to see something that very old legionnaires -only have got?" - -He showed me a tobacco-pouch, apparently made of fine soft leather: - -"This is made of the breast of an Arab woman," said the man of the -skull. "It is a very good tobacco-pouch. Made it myself. There are only -seven in the whole regiment now. Chose--n'est-ce pas? That is something -worth seeing!" - -With a grin of vanity he walked away. - -"Tobacco-pouch--an Arab woman's breast--my God, what is the meaning of -this?" I asked of the bugler. - -Smith told me all about those horrible pouches. The man of the skull -had not lied. During the last insurrection of Arabs in Algeria, in grim -warfare far in the South, Arabian women had horribly mutilated the -bodies of legionnaires and inflicted horrible tortures on the wounded. -The soldiers of the Legion, maddened, thirsting for revenge, gave -quarter to no Arab woman during those times. They retaliated in -kind.... Of the horrible deeds they committed the dreadful -tobacco-pouches gave evidence. - -On the same day I witnessed for the first time the prisoners' march of -punishment. I stood aghast. - -Behind the quarters of the fourth company, in a small square between -barrack building and wall, about thirty men were marching in a -continuous circle, to the sharp commands of a corporal: - -"A droit--droit; a droit--droit; right about, march; right about, -march." - -The prisoners marched round their narrow circle in fast quick-step, -almost at a run, with backs deeply bent. Their knapsacks were filled -with sand and stones, every man carrying a burden of from seventy to -eighty pounds. All the prisoners had a hard strained look on their -faces. Their fatigue uniforms were torn and soiled. Guards with fixed -bayonets stood at the corners of the square, guarding the marching -prisoners. - -The term prisoner must not be misunderstood. These men were not -criminals. The legionnaires marching in the "peloton des hommes punis" -had been punished with a term of imprisonment for small offences in the -matters of discipline. They were not only put into prison, but also had -to march on their ridiculous march of punishment for three hours every -day, the stones in their knapsacks causing bad sores on their backs. -These men, punished for some paltry military offence, were certainly -treated as if they were criminals of the worst description. - -I tried to imagine what I should feel and what I should do if a -sandsack were put on my back and I were driven round in this maddening -march.... It was dangerous to think of these things. - -"Allez, let's go," said the bugler. "We all go to prison some time or -another and it's not right to stare at the prisoners. They feel bad -enough as it is." - -Stranger than the strange surroundings were many of the men of the -Legion themselves. - -On the bunk opposite mine, the little pasteboard card customary in the -Legion described the owner as follows: - - JEAN RASSEDIN - 12429 - SOLDAT PREMIERE CLASSE. - -Rassedin was a Belgian. He worked as clerk in the regimental offices. -Shortly before "soup-time" in the afternoon his day's work was -finished. Then he would come running into quarters, tearing off his old -white barrack uniform as fast as he possibly could, throwing his things -pell-mell on the bed. In a very few moments he had put on the uniform -prescribed for town. For the "soup" he didn't care. He never had his -meals in quarters. He went away at once after he had changed his -uniform and never returned before two o'clock in the morning, having a -"certificate of permanent permission" to leave the barracks. His manner -was haughty. If one of his comrades tried to speak to him about -something or other, he usually turned away without answering. Or he -said: - -"M'en fou--I don't care for anything. Leave me alone." - -Monsieur Rassedin, legionnaire, took his meals in the best hotel of the -town and spent more money than any other man in Sidi-bel-Abbes. -Rassedin was a rich man. From the standpoint of the Foreign Legion, his -wealth was the wealth of Croesus. He had been a non-commissioned -officer in a Belgian cavalry regiment, had deserted for reasons unknown -and joined the Legion. After being a legionnaire for a time, he got the -news of the death of a rich relative, who had left him all his -wealth.... So Monsieur Rassedin, legionnaire, had become rich. He -always carried a few thousands francs about him. Three men of the -company were employed by him to keep his things in order and to do all -the cleaning and polishing for him. In the regimental office he paid -the other clerks to do his work. He naturally preferred reading novels -to copying lengthy reports. As he could afford to pay substitutes, the -thing could easily be done. His family had succeeded in getting him a -pardon granted for deserting. Monsieur Rassedin could have gone back to -Belgium long ago, but he did not care to return to his native country. -As soon as he had finished his term of five years' Legion service, he -signed on again for another five years. - -The reason? - -"Disease," Smith said, when I asked him. There certainly was no -question concerning men or things of the Legion that the man from -California could not answer. "The poor devil's suffering from syphilis. -Got it in Madagascar. I asked him once why in thunder he did not get -out of this confounded Legion. - -"'Bugler,' he said in answer. 'You are an old legionnaire and I don't -want to have trouble with you. But remember: You go your own way, and -I'll go mine. Don't trouble me with your fool's remarks. There is -poison in my body and in a few years I shall be very sick. No, I prefer -putting a bullet through my brains in the Legion to returning to my -country and then having to peg out. You'll die somewhere in the sand, -my friend--I shall die strictly in my own fashion. What is the -difference? Now come on, bugler. Want a bottle of champagne?'" - -Everybody in Sidi-bel-Abbes knew Rassedin, even the little black -children in the streets. Many a time he used to throw franc pieces -amongst them. - -In quarters Rassedin hardly spoke to anybody. His comrades were afraid -of him. He was a man of enormous strength and had the reputation of -fighting on the least provocation. But he could be very good-natured. -Hardly a day passed without some old soldiers of the company coming to -our quarters in search of Rassedin. They would simply rub their throats -in pantomime: - -"Rassedin, tant d' soif.--Heap big thirst." - -Then Rassedin grinned and searched his pockets for copper pieces.... - -Then there was Latour, a Frenchman, serving his second year. Daily -he received letters, a very unusual thing in the Foreign Legion; -love-letters from a woman who was waiting for him five long years. -Latour, who had committed a crime in France, expiated his deed in the -Foreign Legion. He served solely for the purpose of "rehabilitation." - -Sentences of the Civil Court are in France entered in the personal -papers of the criminal. Without his papers he cannot get work. -Naturally employers are shy of taking men who have been in conflict -with the law and such a man very seldom succeeds in finding work. It is -a barbarous system. Ten years must elapse before such a man is -considered rehabilitated and "clean papers" are issued to him. If a man -is willing to serve in the Foreign Legion, however, the term of -rehabilitation is shortened to five years, and after five years' -service new papers are given to him. He has then a new start in civil -life after five years instead of ten. - -Like many other French legionnaires, Latour was serving for -rehabilitation. - -The strangest man of all, however, seemed to me this man Smith, -American, legionnaire, philosopher. I have always believed, and believe -yet, that he actually loved the Legion, that he could not part from the -strange life there. He could speak Arabic like a native. Many a time -when we were lying in our bunks, he would mumble to himself in Arabic -for hours. If I, in curiosity, asked him what he was about, he would -say: - -"Oh nothing, Dutchy. I'm a bit off my base. I very often am, you know." - -But occasionally he would straighten up and sit down beside me, talking -of strange things, reciting whole chapters of the Koran. Like this: - -"Well, sonny, know anything about the Chapter of the Prophet's -Stallions?" - -"You don't? Listen." - -"When of an evening the stallions, standing on three feet and placing -the tip of their fourth foot upon the ground, were brought before the -Prophet, he said: 'I have loved the love of things of this earth more -than I have loved all thoughts of the things of heaven, and I have -wasted the time in feasting my eyes on these horses. Bring them to me.' -And when the horses were brought to him, he began cutting off their -legs, one by one, saying: 'All' il Allah....'" - -"Yes, Dutchy, the Koran's something interesting." Many chapters of the -Koran I have learned from Smith. - -Such things happened every day. But soon the enormities lost their -power of fascination. A host of new impressions were forced upon me, -until the senses were dulled and one soon got wonderfully -indifferent--absolutely indifferent.... - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE MILITARY VALUE OF THE FOREIGN REGIMENTS - -A day's work as a recruit : Allez, hurry up : The Legion's etiquette : -A morning's run : The "cercle d'enfer" and the lack of soap : The main -object of the Legion's training : Splendid marchers : Independent -soldiers : Forty kilometres a day : Uniform, accoutrements, baggage, -victualling : The training of the legionnaire in detail : The -legionnaire as a practical man : Specialties of the Legion : Programme -for a week in the Legion : The legionnaire as a labourer - - -When in the twilight of awakening day the first red-hot rays of African -dawn penetrated through the windows of our quarters, the -"garde-chambre," the man on duty there, arose noiselessly. He took good -care not to make a noise, not from any delicacy of feeling on his part, -but from the knowledge of the dire punishment which awaited him if he -inconsiderately disturbed the sleep of his comrades. For the hours of -sleep are a "Holy of Holies" to the legionnaire. When Herr von Rader -was on duty for the first time, and in getting up made a slight noise, -boots (heavy military boots!) were thrown at his head from all parts of -the room, as a somewhat urgent reminder to be quiet. - -In a few minutes the orderly returned from the kitchen dragging with -him a large earthenware jug, lighted the petroleum lamp which hung in -the middle of the room, and his voice then sounded loudly through the -room: - -"Au jus." (Sauce.) - -The sauce was coffee, strong, black, excellent coffee. Mechanically -each legionnaire sat up in bed, and leaning on his arm mechanically -felt behind him for the "quart," the tin mug, which hung on a hook at -the head of the bed, handing it to the orderly, who went from bed to -bed with his large jug and poured out coffee. The strong mixture soon -dispelled all sleepiness, and when the shrill trumpet-blasts of the -"reveille" sounded from the barrack-yard, they all jumped out of bed. - -Now began a "Tohuwabohu" (pandemonium) of noise and hurrying to and -fro. In half an hour the recruits had to muster in the yard. Corporal -Wassermann, who liked to remain in bed until the last moment, called -out continually: - -"Le--e--vez-vous donc.--Get up." - -Then he thundered out the famous "Allez, schieb' los!" of the Legion. -The curious term has been introduced by German legionnaires and has -passed into the vocabulary of Algerian French. Not only the soldiers -continually used this funny mixture of German and French, but Arabs and -negro children in the street, when they wanted to hurry each other up, -shrieked out: "Allez, schieb' los!" - -"Allez, schieb' los! Pas du temps. No more time!" roared the corporal. -The day began with hurry and scurry. The primitive lavatory was on the -ground floor of the barracks and one was obliged to run up and down -four flights of stairs in order to wash oneself. There was not a minute -to spare. The boots had to be brushed; the blankets and mattresses of -the bed had to be folded neatly and piled up at the foot of the bunk. -Whilst this was being done the orderly shouted excitedly: - -"Quoi! Nom de Dieu--balayez au-dessous vos lits!" (Thunder and -lightning! Sweep up under your beds.) - -The etiquette of the Legion in these things holds very strictly to old -tradition; every legionnaire had to sweep under his bed, while the -cleaning of the room was the work of the orderly on duty, who could of -course not begin this work until the floor beneath the beds had been -swept. That was the reason of all the "Quois" and "Nom de Dieus!" The -man had every cause to be excited and angry. He had to drill like the -others, and it was no trifle to have to sweep a large room, to dust and -to fetch water; everything within ten minutes. And it had all to be in -tip-top order, for a few minutes before commencing drill the -colour-sergeant inspected quarters and if anything was not in order in -the room the corporal was punished. - -And when the corporal was punished, he of course took care that his men -were run in as well. - -Punctually at 6 A.M. we recruits mustered in the barrack-yard in drill -uniform: white linen suit, blue sash, knapsack, cartridge-belt and -rifle--uniforms and leather trappings of shining brightness. The almost -pedantic cleanliness of the Legion, the coquetry of each individual -legionnaire to put a certain amount of "chic" into his uniform, was the -first thing Corporal Wassermann's vanity had taught us. - -In the quick easy marching pace of the Legion we went out to the -"Plateau," a large open space near the negro quarter, surrounded by -olive-trees and red African oaks. The yellow clayey ground was stamped -hard by the marching of many thousands of legionnaires. On the one side -of the "Plateau" was the "village negre," the negro town. Close to the -drill-ground the mosque, in proud white splendour, towered above the -miserable, half-ruined huts of the negro quarter, and hour by hour -sounded loudly from its minaret the priest's call to prayer: - -"All'il Allah. God is great...." - -"Arre, arre--go on, go on," yelled the Arabs, who drove their heavily -laden donkeys across the place with much scolding and beating. By the -side of the donkeys, like the beasts, heavily burdened, walked Arab -women, the legs bare to above the knee, but the face modestly covered -as prescribed by the teachings of the Prophet. Only a small portion of -the forehead was left free by the veil, and this was painted with a -bright red round spot of henna, the sign of the married woman. - -The Arabs glanced at us with timid side looks and hastened to pass on. -Half-naked Arab and negro children raced about trying with comical -"grandezza" to imitate the martial steps, and shouted Arab words at us -which very likely were gross insults, until Corporal Wassermann picked -up stones and drove them away. - -"Formez les faisceaux. Sac a terre." (Pile arms. Lay down your -knapsacks.) - -"Pas gymnastique!" (At the double!) "En avant. Marche!" - -With this the daily routine began. It was the famous "Legion's -breakfast," the lung-training of "double time." - -In the form of a wide square we went round the drill-ground, five -minutes, ten minutes--un, deux, un, deux--always in sharp time. The -corporal, a splendid runner, ran at the head, teaching us the trick on -which everything depended here, to overcome the critical moment of lung -exhaustion, to get the "second wind." Even if the breath came and went -in short pumping gasps, if the eyes pained, and one commenced to -stumble from exhaustion, one ran on until the lungs had got used to the -extra exertion, until one had the feeling of being a machine, and could -go on running for ever. Then came the command "A volonte"--(as you -please)--and a race finished thirty minutes' exercise. - -This is the Legion's breakfast. - -It has cost many a man his lungs. - -Pause. The tormented lungs worked in short hard gasps. It was -impossible to stand still. One was obliged to walk up and down quickly -in order to gradually quieten the pumping lungs. - -The body had to expend all the strength it could in this morning drill. -Swedish gymnastics, "le boxe," formed the alternative to this doubling. -The training progressed very quickly. All the recruits had served in -some of the world's armies, and the first rudiments of military wisdom -had been drilled into them long ago. Three-quarters of my -fellow-recruits were Germans, who did not understand any French, and to -whom the French commands were Greek. Continual repetition was here -necessary. - -"A gauche--gauche means left about," explained the corporal, and -repeated it ten times, until "gauche" had been mastered. The most -necessary French expressions were very quickly learnt by this most -natural of all methods. - -A hot sun burned down on us. Ten times during a single forenoon every -stitch of clothes on one's body was soaked with perspiration, and ten -times it dried again. In the pauses one stood about, smoking -hand-twisted cigarettes, the inevitable cigarette of the Legion smoked -in every free moment, and by which the pause is measured according to -the old custom of the Legion? The pause was the duration of a -cigarette. When the corporal had finished smoking his cigarette he -slowly walked to a distance of about one or two hundred metres and -lifted his hand: - -"A moi." - -That meant we were to run up to him and recommence work. - -"I've never run so d----d fast in all my life," was Herr von Rader's -continual lament. "I've an idea the suckers here are mistaking me for -an express train!" - -At 11 A.M. we marched back to barracks. Knapsack and cartridge-belt -were thrown into the "paquetage," and dead tired we threw ourselves -upon our beds. But after a few short minutes, the soup signal rang out -from the barrack-yard. - -"A la soupe, legionnaires, a la soupe, soupe, soupe." - -"Soupe ..." every one yelled. Woe if the orderly of the room did not -rush to the kitchen, and woe if he did not reappear with the -soup-kettle in the twinkling of an eye! In everything connected with -food a genuine legionnaire stands no nonsense--he has too often -suffered starvation on marches and campaigns not to appreciate "la -gamelle." - -The morning soup, the first of the two daily meals, was the same every -day: Bread soup, boiled together, with potatoes and vegetables, and a -piece of meat. With it the grey-white French military bread was served, -and every other day a quarter of a litre of heavy red wine. The food -was eaten off tin plates at the two long tables in our quarters. There -was, however, not room enough for all at the tables. The question of -seats the Legion's etiquette decided; the privilege of sitting down at -table belonged to the old legionnaires. - -After the soup the kitchen corporal rushed from room to room: - -"Aux patates--aux pommes de terre!" (To the potatoes!) - -The whole company marched down to the kitchen, and standing in a large -circle peeled the day's supply of potatoes. Every one had to peel--he -who had no pocket-knife had to make shift with a sharpened -spoon-handle! The purchase of a pocket-knife was an exorbitant luxury -on a wage of five centimes a day.... - -In the afternoon the old legionnaires went off on long marches or to -field practice, or were ordered to "corvee," to work with spade and -pick, whilst the recruits had instruction. At 5 o'clock in the -afternoon, after a second "soupe," which was exactly like the first, -the official free time of the legionnaire began. - -But in reality the most tiresome work of all now began--cleaning and -washing! - -Rifle cleaning, cleaning of uniforms, polishing the leather parts of -the uniform. Leather! Even now I still think with a gentle shudder of -the leather of the Legion, of the cartridge-belt and pouch! There is -such a lot of trouble and work connected with these leather belts! The -vainest "neuvaine" does not spend so much time over the whole of her -toilette as does the legionnaire over the polishing of his -cartridge-belt! The procedure was unutterably ridiculous, in the -highest degree pedantic and unpractical, being irksome beyond all -measure. You melted black wax over a match and put it on the leather. -Then this wax had to be properly rubbed in with a flat piece of wood, -till it was evenly distributed. Then began the real polishing with an -arsenal of different rags. It took two hours to make cartridge-belt and -pouch shine properly, till the legionnaire's vanity was satisfied.... - -Unpractical and old-fashioned as the "astiquage" is, it belongs to the -etiquette of the Legion and is sacred. I had a special hatred of it and -considered myself infinitely smart when I bought a bottle of leather -dressing and simply painted my belts with it instead of working at them -for two hours. It looked very well and was at all events more durable. - -But Corporal Wassermann almost fainted when he saw it. He tore the belt -out of my hand, and in a fit of rage ran round to all the men's rooms, -to show the other corporals what horrible things happen in this sinful -world. A painted cartridge-belt! The old soldiers of the companies came -running up and with many "merdes" and "noms d'un chien" surveyed in -petrified astonishment the greenhorn who had been so audacious as to -attempt to supplant the sacred "astiquage" of the Legion by painting! - -"But it is more practical," I said at length to the fuming corporal in -the vain attempt to appease him. - -"Mais, ca ne marche pas!" he shrieked. "That will never do. If you were -an old soldier and not a recruit, you would be locked up for ten days!" - -The greatest plague, however, was the washing. The white uniform had of -course to be washed every day. In the back barrack-yard was the -"lavabo," a large reservoir built of concrete, with cold running water, -called in legionnaire's wit "cercle d'enfer" (Hell's circle). Every -free hour the legionnaires stood shoulder to shoulder around the -reservoir, in a large circle, shirt-sleeves turned up, with flushed and -perspiring heads. Behind those washing other legionnaires waited -patiently until a place at the reservoir became vacant. There they -washed, rubbed, beat and rinsed until darkness set in. The white linen -uniforms, the underclothing, and the linings of the uniforms had to be -washed in cold water and with little soap. The small piece of soap -which each man received once a month was not nearly enough, and few -things were railed at as much as the lack of soap. Scarcely had one -turned round, when lo and behold! the soap was gone. - -Nothing represented the poverty of the Legion so much as this "lavabo." -The man who possessed a brush, an ordinary "washing-brush," and with -this could simplify the work of washing, was as much envied as if he -had been a millionaire--to lend such a brush was looked upon as an act -of the greatest friendship! For drying purposes lines were hung up near -by, and when one had hung up the wet clothes, one waited patiently -until they were dry. A man who was careless or impatient, and who did -not do so but went away, might afterwards survey the place on the line -where his washing had been hanging--the wash itself was gone, had -disappeared, been spirited away. - -With the half-dry wash one returned to the room, laid one's blanket on -the table and "ironed" trousers and tunics by smoothing them with the -sharp edge of the drinking-mug until they were free of creases. The -poor devil of a legionnaire thus needed an hour for a piece of work -which could have been done in a few minutes with the help of a -flat-iron. But the foreign legionnaire is far too poor to possess such -a treasure as a flat-iron.... - - * * * * * - -The object of our training was twofold: the training for prodigious -marching performances, and the education of the individual to complete -military independence. The working programme of the Foreign Legion, the -whole of its military value, is embodied in these two ideas: - -Brilliant marchers--independent soldiers. - -In addition to these two advantages we have the financial -consideration, on which the Foreign Legion's existence depends--the -advantage of cheap, splendidly trained mercenaries, with whom the most -daring military operations can be undertaken without consideration of -the sacrifice of life involved. No nation, no parliament asks for an -account of the dead. The Legion marches and acts independently, dies -without attracting attention. - -The legionnaire can march. Forty kilometres a day is the fixed minimum -performance. He must be able to do that, day by day, without -interruption, without a day of rest, for weeks on end. That is the -object of his training from the very beginning--the daily "pas -gymnastique," the "double timing" in the long springy running stride of -the Legion, the initiatory practice for marching. Several times every -week the men must make practice marches over a distance of at least -twenty-four kilometres, with full equipment, at the Legion's pace of -five kilometres per hour, which has always remained the same. The only -object of the practice marches is to teach the recruits steady quick -marching. They neither end with a small manoeuvre, nor have they -exercises such as scouting, or exploring the country by means of -patrols. It is nothing but simple marching at a prescribed pace, a -tramping onwards to fulfil a given task. The "marches militaires," as -the practice marches are called, usually commence at midday, when the -sun is at its hottest, after a hard morning's drill, so as to represent -a practical exercise. On one of the military roads which branch off -from Sidi-bel-Abbes in all directions, the march goes on until the -twelfth kilometre is reached, and then the men are marched back again. - -On the march a legionnaire may carry his rifle as he pleases, either -shouldered or by the strap, just as is most comfortable to him; he may -take off his knapsack if it hurts him, and carry it in his hand; he is -not ordered when to open his coat or when to shut it. The officers do -not worry the marching legionnaires with paltry orders, and they are -allowed to sing or to smoke as they please. When there is a large -puddle on the road, or when one side of the road is stony, the column -turns off of its own accord and marches where the road is best. In the -course of many a whole-day march I have not heard a single word from -the officers, no orders except the short whistle signals, which mean: -"Column, halt!" and "Column, forward march!" As soon as the signal -sounds for a halt, the front rows form front without orders, and every -man sits or lies down during the halt as suits him best. The marches -are regulated by the one principle: March as you like, with crooked -back or toes turned in, if you think that nice or better, but--march! - -It is always being drummed into the legionnaire that he is intended for -nothing else in this world except for marching. If the pangs of hunger -are gnawing at his stomach or thirst parches his tongue, that is so -much the worse for him, but is no sort of a reason for his not marching -on! He may be tired, dead tired, completely exhausted--but he must not -stop marching. If his feet are bleeding and the soles burn like fire, -that is very sad--but the marching pace must not be slackened. The sun -may burn till his senses are all awhirl, he must go on. His task in -life is to march. The greatest crime that he can commit is to fail on -the march. There is no such thing as an impossible marching performance -for the regiment of foreigners. Each individual is inoculated with the -one idea, it is hammered into him, that he has to march as long as he -can control his legs. And when he can no longer control them, then he -must at least try to crawl. - -It is a merciless system, which, however, produces wonderful soldiers. - -Inseparable from the march of the Legion is the baggage of the -legionnaire. - -The French foreign soldier marches with an equipment called the "tenue -de campagne d'Afrique." He wears splendidly made laced boots, white -duck trousers held together at the ankles by means of leather gaiters, -and the "capote," the heavy blue military cloak. The cloak is put on -over the shirt, without any coat underneath, and its tails are buttoned -back behind, so that thighs and knees are left free, and an -untrammelled gait rendered possible, just as with the French soldiers. -The only difference is that the legionnaire wears the "ceinture" round -the body, the blue sash, about four metres long, of fine woollen cloth, -which not only gives the body a firm support, but also does service as -a tropical belt, indispensable in the sudden changes of temperature in -Africa, where the glowing hot day is followed by an icy cold night. The -red "kepi" has a white cover, and, as further protection against the -sun, a thin linen cloth-the "couvre-nuque," neck-cloth--is buttoned on -to the "kepi," covering the neck, ears and cheeks. There are -consequently in the Legion comparatively few cases of sunstroke, which -may sound rather surprising. - -He carries a rifle and a bayonet, two hundred to four hundred -cartridges, cartridge pouch and knapsack, and the "sac." This knapsack -is made of black varnished canvas with a unique system of straps, and -has hardly any weight of its own. On the march it contains two complete -uniforms, the legionnaire's linen and polishing cloths, partly in the -inside and partly in "ballots," in carefully prescribed bundles. Tent -canvas and blanket encircle the knapsack in a long roll. The -collapsible tent-sticks are stuck in at the side. On the top is -fastened the "gamelle" and fuel for the bivouac fire. In addition each -man also carries one of the saucepans of the company or pioneer's -implements. Knapsack, rifle and equipment altogether weigh almost fifty -kilogrammes; no soldier of any other army carries such a load. - -With this kit he marches over sand under a burning sun, on very scanty -rations. In barracks he gets a cup of black coffee on rising in the -morning. At ten o'clock he gets his forenoon soup, at about 5 P.M. his -afternoon soup. Two meals a day, both consisting of soup, in which are -boiled all sorts of vegetables, a small piece of meat, and now and then -a special vegetable as an extra, spinach, carrots or such-like. With -this he eats the French military bread, a grey kind of bread which is -very easily digested, undoubtedly nutritious, sufficient and palatable. -When marching, however, the meat rations are dropped, and food consists -almost exclusively of rice and macaroni. As a substitute for the bread -he is served with a kind of hard ship's biscuit. - -Marching always commences in the early hours after midnight. It then -goes on uninterruptedly, with the hourly halts for rest of five -minutes, until the task has been completed. This is a peculiarity of -the Legion from which there is no deviation, even when in the field. Be -the distance ever so great, it is covered in _one_ march. - -The Legionnaire marches.... - - * * * * * - -The Foreign Legion, as an old troop of mercenaries, works like a -machine. The newly recruited human material is quickly adapted to the -old, faultlessly working parts. In barrack life and on the drill-ground -the officers stand in the background. For these stages they are -superfluous, and their work is confined to paper reports or to an -occasional visit to the drill-ground. While I was serving in the -Foreign Legion I only came into close touch with the officers of my -company on the march. We scarcely knew them; the captain came into the -company's office in the forenoon, and was not seen again for the rest -of the day. The education of the men and their whole training is left -to the non-commissioned officers, above all to the corporals. They were -themselves once trained in the same service and possess, with rare -exceptions, great talent in training their men to be independent. - -The system of the marches is brutal; the legionnaire must expend what -there is in him of vital energy and human strength, but in the military -service he is treated as a soldier, as a valuable soldier, whom one -does not worry with pedantic demands and paltry red-tape affairs, but -treats him in a sensible, I might say loving, manner, in order to draw -from him the utmost he is capable of. From the military point of view -he is really well treated. - -During my training I did not once hear a word of bad language, and if a -strong expression was used, it was done in fun. Every morning and every -afternoon nine recruits of the eleventh were taken to a secluded spot, -a shady avenue near the Plateau, and were taken in hand by a corporal -and a legionnaire, premiere classe. - -Every movement was explained to us, the purpose of every manoeuvre -illustrated precisely, so that we knew why we had to make this or that -exercise. The smallest details were all explained. It was not -considered a crime if in lining-up one man was a trifle farther forward -than the other; but if any man was awkward at boxing, that was -considered a very serious thing, and he was drilled by himself until he -grasped the fact that boxing was a most important matter, which -sharpened wits and nerves. In the pauses the instructors spoke to us -and explained a hundred little things. The gun had to be carried across -the shoulder in a certain place, because that was the easiest way of -carrying and balancing it. We were obliged to work hard, but never had -the feeling of being bothered with anything unnecessary. It was -practical work, the reason for which every one understood. - -This was repeated on a larger scale when drilling in companies. -Everything was directed towards the practical and useful; one was not -drilled mechanically, but by practical methods. The company drill was -hardly ever conducted by the officers, but by the colour-sergeant of -the company. - -Here the training of the individual to independence stepped in. In the -course of the day every man was given a problem which he had to solve: -the estimating of distances, the search for cover or ambush.... For -instance, ten men were told off as a scout-patrol, and had to reach a -certain spot without being seen. At the goal the whole company -assembled, and every legionnaire could watch for himself how the -scout-patrol carried out their task. Their movements were criticised by -the watching legionnaires; in great excitement they debated if another -way did not offer better cover, or if the patrol should not have -remained longer at one point to get a wider range of view for their -observations. This military criticism was looked upon with favour, and -sergeants and corporals regularly took part in the discussion. This -introduced into the hard service a suggestion of sport and individual -interest, stirring the ambition and giving interest to the work. For -all that the general work of the troop was not neglected and drill was -not despised when necessary. To my mind the firing discipline, for -instance, was perfect. - -"Being practical" was the leading principle of the whole training. Each -man knew the length of his steps and knew that he required 117 or 120 -or 125 steps to walk 100 metres. In interesting instructive lessons in -the field the legionnaire learnt not only the rudiments of map-reading, -but was taught to illustrate a report by a sketch, if it was only a -rough one. The corporals took special pains with the talented and -educated legionnaires, stirring their pride and ambition to achieve -something out of the common. One had the feeling of working for a -sporting competition. On clear, starry nights the company was often -alarmed and marched into the surrounding country of Sidi-bel-Abbes. Far -out in the open field we stopped. These exercises were conducted by our -first lieutenant. He gathered the legionnaires round him in a circle -and explained to them the constellations, their movements and their -relation to each other. This was repeated so often till even the -greatest dunce could find his bearings by means of the Pole-star and -the Great Bear. - -Personal interest was brought into the soldier's work. One became -independent, one knew the Why and the Wherefore. Again and again -rifle-pits were dug, and sporting ambition urged us to work quicker -than the next section. - -There was equal competition at the frequent drills in throwing up -earthworks, and with wonderful rapidity entrenchments were built up of -haversacks filled with sand. It was like watching a match to see the -"escouades," the different sections of the company, endeavouring to be -the first to have their tent up. With one pull they had the tent-cloth -out of the knapsack, and fitted the sticks together; every one had his -own piece of work--the one buttoned the tent canvas together, the other -stretched the sides down tight, and the next one drove in the pegs. And -like a miracle the little tent grew out of the ground. My squad held -the record in tent-building with seventy seconds. It was looked upon as -a matter of honour to turn out with the greatest speed and exactness, -one was proud of being able to form square on the march in a few -seconds. One ran like mad at the command "A genoux!"--an interesting -manoeuvre, the purpose of which was to save oneself from bursting -shells and volley fire. When the command "A genoux!" (Down on the -knees!) sounded the whole line in long strides moved closely together, -every single man fell on his knees and put his head as far under the -knapsack of the man in front of him as possible, each one crowding -close to his neighbour. No head, no back was visible, nothing but a -compact mass of knapsacks. The head of each man was protected by the -knapsack of the man in front, this and his own knapsack protecting him -from shells and shrapnel. The "sac," with its contents of soft uniforms -and underlinen, was proof even against a rifle-bullet. - -Everything was practical. All the bother with the "paquetage," the -paltry and exact folding up of equipment according to a prescribed -plan, meant in reality prompt readiness at shortest notice. The -legionnaire has no wardrobe and is obliged to put a host of things into -a ridiculously small space with methodical neatness. But the result of -all this is that he can find every piece in the dark and stands with -his kit packed according to marching regulations ten minutes after the -alarm. - -The Legion understands its soldiering business. One must admit that. It -shoots brilliantly. The general regulations for the computation of the -shooting range are absolutely ignored by the Legion. But every man -tests his gun over every range until he knows exactly, when given a -distance, how his own gun shoots over it: at four hundred yards, a -hand's-breadth up, and a hand's-breadth to the left ... and so on. The -shooting-range at Sidi-bel-Abbes is never unoccupied, cartridges are -not stinted, and a company would feel very unhappy if at least half of -its men were not first-class shots. Money prizes are even given. I once -got a prize of ten francs.... - -On the other hand, it is on the rifle-ground that one can see how the -legionnaire is treated as a man. He is supposed to be a badly treated -man, a desperate man, one not to be trusted. As a soldier the -legionnaire must shoot, shoot much. As a desperate man he ought not to -have arms in his possession. But the Legion has found a compromise. A -corporal stands behind every legionnaire who shoots on the range, -watching the shooter's every movement. From the same reason even the -sentinels do not get any cartridges. The non-commissioned officer in -command of the guard receives a small box with ammunition, locked and -sealed and only to be opened in case of necessity. Is a sentinel -attacked, then he must defend himself with his bayonet until he can -alarm the guard and bring the officer on duty to the rescue with -cartridges. Such things are significant. But they do not prevent the -legionnaire from being a splendid soldier. - -Individual training--Boer tactics--practical instruction ... that is -the Legion. And it marches. Now and then its marching powers are -increased artificially. The "compagnies montees" one with each -regiment, companies mounted on mules, have even done seventy kilometres -a day. Every two men have a mule. The one rides and takes the baggage -of his comrade marching alongside with him on the mule. Then they -change about. The mounted companies lie far in the south and follow up -the hostile Arabs with colossal forced marches. - -But on the whole "la Legion" depends on its legs. These brilliant -professional soldiers march.... - - * * * * * - -I will give you, naturally translated, my company's weekly programme as -it was hung up on the blackboard every Saturday: - - Monday 6-7 Boxing. - 7.30-10 Company drill. - 12 Military march. - - Tuesday 6-7 Gymnastics. - 7.30-10 Skirmishing. - 11-12 Instruction in hygienic rules in the field. - 1 Work under the quartermaster's direction. - - Wednesday 5.30-6.30 Boxing. - 7 Company musters for bathing. - 8-11 Mending uniforms, preparation for inspection - by the colonel. - - Thursday 5.30 March to the shooting-range. - 12-1 Instruction in first-aid to wounded. - 1.15 Work under the quartermaster's orders. - - Friday 5 Military march. - 1-2 Instruction in taking cover in flat ground. - 2.30 Work under the quartermaster's orders. - - Saturday 5.30 Run over six kilometres. - 8-11 Company drill. - 12 Cleaning of barracks and quarters. - 4 Inspection of the barracks by the colonel. - The men stand beside their beds in duck suit. - -N.B.--At the 11 o'clock muster each morning a part of the uniform, to -be named each day by the adjutant, has to be presented for inspection. - - * * * * * - -Inseparable from the Legion's military value is the Legion's work. - -Not so very long ago Sidi-bel-Abbes was a sand-heap, on which only a -"marabout" stood, the tomb of a pious saint, to which the Arab hordes -of the Beni Amer made pilgrimages. At that time strange men came, -gathered round the brand new flag of the Legion and convinced the sons -of Amer in bloody battles that it would be good for their health to -move farther south. These strange men built roads and burned bricks. -They built solid fortification walls, drained that horrid little -rivulet Mekerra, which flowed so sluggishly through the sand, and which -smelt so badly; they laid out gardens and planted olive-trees. The -barracks, the public buildings, most of the dwelling-houses arose under -the hands of these industrious mercenaries. - -The legionnaire was always and is always still a workman. The heaviest -work of the Foreign Legion is done on the smallest military stations in -Algeria, down in the south, on the borders of the Sahara, where every -day's bodily work means loss of health to a European. There the working -column turns out day by day with pick and spade to build roads, whilst -perhaps in an Arab village a few hours distant the civil authorities -are distributing "relief" in the form of natural products to loafing -Arabs. Eighty per cent. of Algeria's brilliant roads have been built by -the Legion. - -The trowel is thrust into the legionnaire's hand. There, now you are a -mason. He builds barracks for the troops and offices for the civil -administration. He breaks the stones with which the roads are repaired. -He performs the pioneer work of Northern Africa at a wage which a -coolie would scoff at. - -His strength is made full use of. A grotesque example of this is the -custom prevailing in the 2nd Regiment, stationed in Saida, to allow -legionnaires to work for private people in the town. They, of course, -get less wage for this than a common workman would ask for, but that in -itself would not be so bad, because even the few francs a day mean -wealth to a legionnaire. The peculiarity, however, the typical side of -the whole affair, is that these workers have to hand over a part of -their day's earnings to the funds of their company. The company -enriches itself through their work. - -In the garrison life of Sidi-bel-Abbes the work of the Legion took -grotesque forms. In my life I have spent several weeks on end in the -saddle; while still very young I struggled for existence in the United -States; I have suffered from hunger and cold, and for months I have had -shivering fits of malaria--but I never experienced to such a degree the -feeling that my physical strength was being pumped out of me to the -last drop as during the time I spent in Sidi-bel-Abbes. I was always -tired and every free moment found me stretched out at full length on my -camp bed. During work I had the ambition (which to-day appears to me -ridiculous) to be second to none in strength and endurance. Scarcely, -however, was the work ended, when the bodily and mental depression set -in. - -My captain was quite right when one day at inspection he stood still in -front of me and said disapprovingly to the sergeant: "Il a maigri -beaucoup!" (He has got very thin!) - -"Mais il fait son service," replied the sergeant. (He does his work.) - -That was of course the principal thing. - -The getting thin and feeling tired had their own good reasons. Like all -legionnaires I was a working animal. Early in the morning the hard -military service began. The afternoon brought the "corvee" work, and -the evening the ridiculous small jobs of the barrack routine. The word -"corvee," which literally means drudgery and in the military sense -"work," I will not forget as long as I live, and will never read it -again without shuddering. "Corvee" was a component part of almost every -day in the Legion. The work was often so hard that every bone and every -muscle in my body ached, often it was simply ridiculous and depressing. - -The greater part of the company mustered generally at 1 P.M. in the -barrack-yard, and the sergeant "du jour" chose working parties, each of -which was in charge of a corporal. That was something quite different -to the military service. Indifferent as I must have been at that time, -I nevertheless always noticed the sulky and disgusted faces the men -made when they went to this work. In small groups we marched out of the -barracks, armed with broom, pick and shovel. - -The Legion was there to work, and from the legionnaire one could ask -things impossible in other French troops. If one saw a soldier working -in Sidi-bel-Abbes, then he was sure to be a legionnaire. Arab Spahis or -French soldiers of the line, who were also stationed in Sidi-bel-Abbes, -had never such work to do as we did, and which should have been done by -scavengers and navvies. That was the privilege of the Foreign Legion. - -From the Arab Spahis, that is to say from the natives, such work was -not demanded. On the other hand, the Legion had often to supply men to -put the forage of the "Spahis" under cover. That may sound paltry, but -it is just these small things that characterise the way the legionnaire -is taken advantage of. He is just good enough for any kind of work. - -We swept the public park of the town for the citizens of -Sidi-bel-Abbes, whilst the gardeners stood idly by, watching us and -ordering us about; we rooted out the undergrowth, and cleansed the -brook which ran through the botanical gardens from mud and refuse. We -emptied the drains in the officers' houses; we did scavengers' work in -the filthy slums of the town. - -Once I was a member of a detachment that had to clean the sewers in the -Arab prison. The work was loathsome beyond measure. We had taken with -us a large barrow with casks, and had to haul from underneath the -floors of the cells and prison rooms the large tin pans, and carry them -to the barrow. We performed this disgusting work, whilst in the prison -yard the loafing Arab rabble prowled around and made jokes at our -expense. - -Sunday only was free from work, free from all kinds of service. We were -not even mustered. And the legionnaire lies the whole blessed Sunday in -bed. Towards evening he goes to the Jardin Public to listen to the -concert given by the regimental band. He goes there because it is the -Legion's custom--but he would much rather sleep on.... - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -"THE LEGION GETS NO PAY" - -The money troubles of the Legion : Five centimes wages : The cheapest -soldiers of the world : Letters from the Legion : The science of -"decorating" : The industries of the legionnaires : What the bugler did -for a living : The man with the biscuits : A thief in the night : -Summary lynch law : Herr von Rader and La Cantiniere : "The Legion -works--the Legion gets no pay!" - - -The poor fellows who enlisted because they had no money to buy a crust -of bread made the biggest mistake of their lives when they thought to -finish with their troubles by entering the Legion. - -Without exception every man in the Legion had his money troubles. - -Money was a thing of immense value in the Foreign Legion. The -possession of a few francs made an enormous difference and created in -the midst of the Legion's red-trousered equality the finest social -grades and distinctions. Not only the value but also the power of money -was enhanced in the Legion. Copper pieces meant a great deal here. -Copper pieces purchased a few "litres" of wine, or a nocturnal carouse, -or a substitute to help in doing hard work. The legionnaire with a -little money was on quite a different footing to the man who had none. - -Rassedin, the wealthy Rassedin, was a prince in a surrounding of poor -devils. A wide gap parted him from the other men. They flattered him to -get into his good graces and accepted gladly his insolence, if there -were but a few sous or a few good cigarettes to be had. Of our quarters -he was the king. He reigned supreme. He was obeyed in all matters. It -was too funny to see how his comrades hurried themselves when this man, -the incarnation of the God of Mammon in the Legion, happened to express -a wish, and how they then went off with beaming faces to the canteen to -change the couple of sous they had earned into wine. The -self-confidence with which the Belgian bore the dignity of his wealth -(and what enormous wealth are a few thousand francs to a legionnaire!) -was, considered by itself, only funny. But many a time I suspected that -Rassedin, who knew so well what a frightful death was waiting for him, -despised the petty greed of them all from the bottom of his heart. - -Money rules even in the Foreign Legion! - -The pay is five centimes daily, which is about one cent or one -halfpenny. Exactly the fiftieth part of the daily pay of an American -regular. The twenty-fourth part of a British soldier's daily pay. The -comparison is grotesque. - -When one considers, however, that the man who enlists in the Foreign -Legion sells his skin and is a "paid" mercenary, the comparison becomes -astounding. The average legionnaire finds out in a remarkably short -time that he has been a fool to enlist, that he is the victim of a -system very near akin to slavery, that he is a working man without -wages, a labourer without pay. An old French proverb says: Business is -getting the other man's money! - -And very substantial values is La France getting out of the -legionnaire. With this poorly paid Legion, the French Republic protects -the boundaries of her territory in Algeria and conquers the southern -deserts step by step--in the everlasting wars in French Tonquin the -Legion's troops are always ready for service. Fighting is not the only -work of the Foreign Legion, however. Only one-half of the legionnaire -is a real soldier. The other half of him is workman, carpenter, -builder, road-maker. He works hard and he is so cheap a workman that no -Chinese coolie can compete with him. He receives board and clothes and -a cent a day--the cheap soldier of the Legion, this funny soldier of -"fortune." He can be made use of in the most terrible climates, for the -most risky operations, simply because nobody troubles his head about -him and because his officers have no account to render for his life or -death. - -The sum of money which his work with pick and shovel, with mason's -trowel and carpenter's axe has saved the French Government in all these -years must be enormous. And if a bullet, or sunstroke, or typhoid -fever, or dysentery carries away a legionnaire, the only expense he is -the cause of is the making of a hole in the sand. So cheap! Truly, -France's Foreign Legion is a well-paying enterprise! Glorious soldiers -and successful workmen are remarkably cheap at five centimes a day.... - -Every five days the legionnaire gets his wages paid. He holds five -copper sous in his hand and must decide whether to buy cigarette -tobacco, or cleaning materials, or a bottle of wine. It is only enough -for one of these three. The purchase of a box of matches, which are -monopolised in Algeria and cost five centimes, is a very grave -financial problem. Therefore matches are scarce. Nowhere in the world -is one so often asked for a match as in the streets of Sidi-bel-Abbes -and in the Legion's barracks. - -No wonder that the possession of a few silver pieces is something truly -great for a legionnaire; no wonder that men like Rassedin rule as -kings. Nowhere can the lesson of the value of money be so thoroughly -learned as in the Foreign Legion. - -The money troubles of the Legion are, of course, ridiculously petty -troubles. - -The luckiest man (considered from the Legion's point of view) is he who -has kept up some sort of communication with home. The most appalling -letters are then written to parents and relations and friends. Usually -the poor devil of a letter-writer exaggerates a little, and his -descriptions of famine and hardships are most moving. They must be very -hard-hearted people indeed who do not acknowledge the receipt of such a -letter with a small postal order. Then there is joy in the land of -Sidi-bel-Abbes. For a day, or a few days, or even a week, the prodigal -son with the postal order lives like a king. He has his boots cleaned -for him, and would not dream of making his own bed as long as his money -lasts. A comrade does that for him, and in reward is graciously -permitted to share a drink. C'est la Legion! To play the "grand -seigneur," if it is but for a day, is the average legionnaire's dream -of happiness. He thinks it the finest thing in all the world to play at -having a servant, if it's but for a day.... And this is the surest sign -of the legionnaire's abject poverty. These lucky ones who receive a -postal order occasionally represent the creme de la creme, the elite of -society in the Foreign Legion. The others have to help themselves. They -must "decorate themselves!" - -This "decorating" is a fine art in the Foreign Legion. It is a mixture -of work, cunning, brains, and theft. - -"Decorate yourself!" - -That is the sum total of an old legionnaire's wisdom, and these two -words are the only advice that he gives, or indeed can give, to the -newcomer. Make your life in the Legion as easy as possible is the -meaning of this advice; take care that your tobacco-pouch stays full, -that your uniform is in order and your kit complete, that you have as -often as possible the three sous necessary for your litre of wine. - -The way in which this "decorating" is carried out is a purely personal -affair.... - -My friend the bugler used to make gaudy "ceintures" from coloured -pieces of cloth and old leather-work, belts with crests and buttons of -the Legion. He found good customers for his belts amongst the Arabs and -occasionally amongst Spanish workmen in the little wine-shops of -Sidi-bel-Abbes. In his special methods of decorating the old -legionnaire developed an extraordinary business instinct. His -transactions were not at all simple. An Arab never parts with hard -cash--after the time-honoured manner of his kind. So the bugler had to -"trade." He would exchange his gaudy rags for a pair of pretty -golden-bossed Arabian shoes, or a grotesquely carved Arabian stick, or -a morocco purse of fine leather-work. Then Smith would constitute one -of the legionnaires on orderly duty in the officers' mess his agent. -Paying customers could easily be found amongst the young officers. The -final result was always the same: many litres of the sweet heavy wine -of Algeria into which all the copper coins of the Legion invariably -change. - -A legionnaire of the fourth company was generally known as "l'homme des -biscuits!" His speciality was to gather in all the companies the -biscuits given out twice weekly to complete the bread ration. They were -like ship's biscuit and extremely hard. Most of the men would not touch -them. So the biscuit man had a capital gathering ground, and in some -cunning way, which he carefully kept secret, he took sack upon sack of -these biscuits out of the barracks. In the market-place of -Sidi-bel-Abbes he found plenty of customers. Others, less inventive, -confined themselves to cleaning and washing for comrades better off -than they. In some way every one tried to "decorate himself."... The -main object in a legionnaire's life is the getting together of a few -coppers. - -Decorating meant also occasional theft.... In matters of stealing the -Legion draws the line very sharply. The theft of equipment, to replace -lost or stolen parts, was considered absolutely respectable and -gentleman-like. There was no other remedy, as the man who loses -something is punished severely. - -Thieving "decorating" is a very simple thing and quickly learned. - -"I've lost a pair of trousers!" cries the recruit in despair. - -"That's nothing," says the old legionnaire. - -"Curse it, what shall I do then?" wails the new-comer. - -"Decorate yourself, you fool," says the old hand. - -Whereupon the recruit (after receiving detailed instructions from the -wise old soldier) walks into the back yard, where the washing is -hanging out to dry, and waits in a dark corner with great patience for -an auspicious moment. A lightning snatch and a pair of somebody's -trousers hanging innocently on the line are his. He has decorated -himself. It's immoral, of course. It's theft right enough. It's -deplorable ... but it is most convenient. The Legion does not worry -about small matters of right or wrong. The Legion says: Each for -himself; why didn't you keep an eye on your washing, you fool! - -Now such a single theft of a single pair of trousers naturally is but -the first link in a long chain of trouser-stealing. The man who has -been robbed has no other remedy than doing likewise. And so on.... In a -very few days hundreds of pairs of trousers change owners, until -somewhere in the long chain some one is struck who buys himself a new -pair. Somehow or other it all comes right! - -The Legion considers this sort of theft sportsman-like and gentlemanly, -a thing permitted, and it is a "point d'honneur" to be smart enough not -to get caught by the rightful owner. - -But woe to the legionnaire who should ever extend his decorating -operations to tobacco or money or even bread. The whole company would -form a self-constituted detective corps and find the culprit out very -soon. The rest would be--silence and hospital! - - * * * * * - -During one of the very first nights an ugly scene took place which -showed only too well how a thief is treated in the Legion. In the -middle of the night furious shouting made me jump out of bed. Sleepily -I looked about me. Around Rassedin's bed stood a group of cursing and -gesticulating soldiers. I went up to them. Smith and three others were -holding in grips of iron a fourth man who could hardly speak for -terror. His face was white as chalk. Rassedin stood there in his shirt, -staring hard at the man caught. - -"You're from the tenth company?" - -"Yes," stammered the man. - -"What in hell are you doing in the eleventh then?" - -"Been drinking--got into the wrong quarters--let me go----" - -In the meantime all the men in the room had gathered and were standing -around the group. - -"Nom de Dieu--what a dirty fellow!" said Rassedin. "Listen, you chaps. -I had my money in my trousers and my trousers were under my pillow. -Just now I felt something moving near me, jumped up and caught hold. Do -you know what I caught? This chap's hand. What do you think of that?" - -"Voleur!" cried the bugler. "Thief!" - -The word acted like a signal. All at once fists were clenched, a -bayonet gleamed, a struggle arose, and a dozen men rolled on the -ground. The scene lasted for perhaps a minute. Then all was still--the -man from the tenth company lay there gasping and covered with blood. -His face was black, so terribly was it bruised. A blow from the bayonet -had split his cheek and a stream of blood flowed over his blue jacket. -The guard came up and the fellow was carried into hospital. - -"He wanted to steal my money! He wanted to decorate himself!" said -Rassedin grimly. "For the present we've decorated him!" - -The man lay in hospital for weeks. That was the end of it. That night's -lynch-law in our quarters was not inquired into. The punishment of the -thief rests in the hands of his comrades. So decrees the custom of the -Legion.... - - * * * * * - -When it came to "decorating," Herr von Rader was in his element. The -Legion's little ways had nothing mysterious for him. In a week the -whole Legion knew him and respected him as a man of brains and -resource. Every evening he went across to the canteen. Money he had -not. But he juggled untiringly with empty wine-bottles, performed the -most difficult conjuring tricks with absinthe glasses, and used to tell -Madame la Cantiniere (who understood a little German) the funniest -stories. Very soon he succeeded in making a deep impression on that -worthy lady, the queen over so many desirable wine-casks. She found the -clever Herr von Rader amusing, and she did something that she had never -done before in her life. She gave the man of many tricks a gratis -bottle of wine every evening, and into the bargain the change out of an -imaginary ten-sous piece. Madame's Portuguese husband had no idea of -this little secret of his wife's kind heart. Anyway, he need not have -troubled himself: Herr von Rader had not the slightest intention of -endangering Madame la Cantiniere's conjugal fidelity--he only loved her -wine.... - -Thus did Herr von Rader decorate himself with his glib tongue and his -clever fingers. The soldiering part of his work was easy enough for -him. Herr von Rader got on better under the flag of the Legion than all -the other recruits. Sometimes, however (when Madame la Cantiniere was -in a bad temper or her Portuguese husband kept too sharp an eye on -her), even Herr von Rader would fall into a thoughtful mood. Then he -would rub away angrily at his leather equipment and propound practical -philosophy. Something like this: - -"Nom de Dieu!" (Herr von Rader was already quite at home with the -curses of the French language.) "Nom de bon Dieu! This Legion is no -good. Nix good. Now, for an intelligent man like me there is a bottle -of wine and a cigarette easily to be had anywhere in the world. You'll -admit that! Is it easy here? It is not! I've got to waste a lot of -thinking and fine art just to keep in cigarettes.... This Legion's -rotten. I've been had. They've swindled me! I'll tell you what, mein -Freund: I'm going to skin out. This boy is going to run away...." - -He did "skin out," some time afterwards. For it the cheerful Herr von -Rader was to suffer the whole immeasurably hard punishment system of -the Legion. - -Even this cheerful fellow, who knew so well how to help himself, and in -consequence was far better off than the other men in the Legion, was -troubled by the simple problem of the Foreign Legion! A problem which -so many of the Legion's soldiers have tried to reason out with so many -head-shakings. A problem which once an Arabian Spahi put very plainly -in a few scornful words: - -"The Legion works--the Legion gets no pay!" - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE CITY OF THE FOREIGN LEGION - -The daily exodus to town : Ben Mansur's coffee : The Ghetto : The -citizens of Sidi-bel-Abbes and the legionnaires : How the Legion -squared accounts with the civilians : A forbidden part of the town : -Primitive vice : A dance of a night : The gardens : The last -resting-place of the Legion's dead - - -En ville! Off to Sidi-bel-Abbes! Every afternoon shortly before six -o'clock there began a very exodus from the Legion's barracks to the -town. A legionnaire would rather clean and polish for an hour after -lights out in the semi-darkness of the night-lamp than miss his stroll -to town. The daily walk in Sidi-bel-Abbes was part of the Legion's -sacred tradition. At five o'clock the gigantic gates of the barracks -were closed and only a little side door remained open. Here the -sergeant of the guard posted himself and carefully inspected everybody -who wanted to go out, so that the Legion's reputation for chic should -not suffer. The uniform to be worn in town was prescribed every day by -a special regimental order; each legionnaire had to wear the same -uniform, red trousers and blue jacket or white trousers and blue -overcoat, and everybody took an especial pride in looking as trim and -smart as possible. - -Three thousand soldiers of the Legion used to stroll about the streets -of Sidi-bel-Abbes every evening. For me this daily walk was a wondrous -change from the Legion's routine. Above the gleam of the electric arc -lamps shone the starry glory of a southern sky. Little black boys in -white breeches, whose countless folds might have told endless stories -of stolen trifles they had concealed, lounged at the street corners and -cried the evening paper, the _Echo d'Oran_; Arabs in white burnouses, -carrying in their hands the dangerous Arabian sticks, in which they -find a never-failing missile, stood motionless, silently watching with -looks of suspicion the "Rumis," the white foreigners who will always -remain foreigners to them and whose customs they will never be able to -understand. All Sidi-bel-Abbes was promenading; citizens of the town, -officers and civilians of the "Bureau Arabe" with their womenfolk. In -between came the Legion's heavy soldier-steps and the sound of gently -rattling bayonets. - -Four streets, which run exactly north, south, east, and west, to Oran, -Daya, Maskara, and Tlemcen, divide the town at right angles. They are -the main streets in which the European shops and fashionable cafes lie. -For private financial reasons the legionnaire does not buy in these -shops and in the fashionable cafes he is badly treated. The legionnaire -has no business in the main streets--from the honest citizen's point of -view. - -Between the blocks of the main streets, however, a labyrinth of small -courts and alleys is hidden. There the Spanish Jews and Arabs live, -there trading and bargaining goes on incessantly. - -In this maze of dark alleys the men of the Legion were at home, in the -treacherous wineshops which depended on the custom of the soldiers. -"Bar de la Legion," or "Bar du Legionnaire," or "Bar de Madagascar" -these hovels called themselves. Good wine is ridiculously cheap in -Algeria. But out of the legionnaires extra money must needs be made. -They were given a brew in the wineshops made from grapes which had been -pressed already two or three times and to which a little alcohol lent -flavour and "aroma." Beside the wineshops were Mohammedan restaurants -in which one could eat "kuskus" and "galettes," tough pancakes with -honey; restaurants in which knives and forks were looked upon as -accursed instruments, which doubtless the devil of the Rumis must have -invented for devilish purposes unintelligible to a true believer. -Poverty and filth reigned in these places, but they were good enough -for the poor despised legionnaire. One cafe in this quarter had an -individuality of its own, depending exclusively on the custom of the -Legion. In a corner by the theatre a pretty little Spanish girl had put -up a wooden hut and filled it with rickety old chairs, to be treated -and used with great care, given her in charity probably somewhere or -other merely to get rid of them. There she sold coffee to the soldiers -of the Legion. This little woman had a good eye for business. Her -coffee was, 'tis true, merely coloured hot water and not especially -good water at that, but the soldier of the Legion willingly drank it, -for Manuelita's coffee was very cheap indeed, and a pretty smile and a -coquette glance went with each cup. When business was slack the hostess -would even chat a little. These tactics secured for the sly little -Spaniard the faithful custom of the legionnaires. La Legion made love -to Manuelita unceasingly.... The old legionnaires stole flowers for -her, and if somewhere in Tonquin or on the Morocco border plundering -had been going on, Manuelita would some months later be sure to receive -the finest presents, stolen for her by her old friends of the Legion -and carried about all the time in knapsacks. The Legion was grateful to -Manuelita. She was the great exception. Besides her and Madame la -Cantiniere there was no woman in the town of the Foreign Legion who -would even in her wildest dreams have deigned a legionnaire worthy of a -glance. - -Smith would never have patronised this Cafe de la Legion. He knew -something much better. To him I owed my acquaintance with Ben Mansur's -coffee. His was a Moorish coffee-house. Finely coloured mosaics formed -Arabian proverbs on the floor and against the walls there were long -marble benches. Arabs crouched on these benches and smoked comfortably -gurgling narghiles--the incarnation of quietude and silence. For hours -they sat over a single cup of coffee, whose purchase gave them also, -according to Arabian custom, the right of spending the night on the -marble benches. In stolid silence they played "esch schronsch"--chess. - -One seldom saw a soldier of the Legion here, for Ben Mansur only spoke -Arabic. Smith, however, was his bosom friend, and these two always -greeted one another solemnly with deep bows, with their arms folded on -the breast in Arab fashion. - -Ben Mansur's coffee was a dream of fairyland. All day and all night -charcoal glowed in the ancient Moorish stove in the corner, and in a -wonderful octagonal copper kettle, which must have done service for -generations of Arabs, there simmered boiling water. A silver can -contained a thick coffee brew, a kind of extract. From this Ben Mansur -filled the little clay cups half full and poured in boiling water. Then -he conjured dreamland into the tiny little cups, adding a drop here and -a drop there from mysterious bottles, a drop of essence of oranges, a -drop of hashish oil and a drop of opium. Ben Mansur's coffee, with its -wonderful aroma and the restful oblivion which that little cup gave, -was a wonder never to be forgotten. Smith and I used to sit on the -marble benches by the hour, legs crossed in honour of the customs of -our host's race. Before us stood the water-pipe of the Orient, a -"narghile," filled with wonderful tobacco very different from the -products of the Algerian tobacco monopoly. Ben Mansur would never take -more than two sous, which is two cents, for both of us, no matter how -many pipes we smoked or how many cups of coffee we drank. This was his -idea of hospitality. - -Then again I used to wander with Smith through the dirty streets of the -Jewish quarter, where the rubbish-heaps lay in the open streets and the -atmosphere was tainted with every variety of smell. At the corners thin -Spanish Jews, with the sharp features common to their race, haggled -over a bargain; Algerian Jews walked stately through the alleys, in -long flowing robes of blue and brown silk, men of importance who held -the wealth of the country in their hands as the go-betweens of the -world's trade and the riches of Algeria. Wealth and power dwelt in this -miserable quarter of Sidi-bel-Abbes under the shell of poverty with -which Israel is so fond of surrounding itself. - -In the Ghetto of Sidi-bel-Abbes no trifle is so small that it is not -worth haggling about, and no proposition paltry enough to come amiss to -the man of the Ghetto, whose love of money is so great that he does not -despise even the Legion's small copper pieces. The Ghetto and the -Foreign Legion have quite lively business connections, consisting -principally in the change of small currency notes. Many banknotes which -originally formed the kernel of a legionnaire's letter from home have -wandered into the mysterious channels of Jewish trade. The Ghetto of -Sidi-bel-Abbes has earned a small fortune in these small transactions. -A legionnaire is seldom much of a man of business and he certainly is -always in a big hurry to get his dollar or his five marks or his five -pesetas changed into francs and centimes--so he submits with more or -less grace to fantastic rates of exchange, getting little more than -three francs for a dollar and about four francs for a "fuenf Mark -Schein." All other business of the Ghetto with the soldiers of the -Legion is equally profitable--for the other man, be it understood, not, -of course, for the legionnaire. Very often men of the Legion steal, -under cover of darkness, silently through the little streets of the -Jewish quarter carrying big bundles of brown woollen blankets and blue -sashes, stamped in the middle and at the corners with the Legion's -stamp in white paint, which marks them clearly as regimental property. -But what's in a stamp! It can be got rid of easily enough with good -will and a little turpentine.... - -Anything that a legionnaire may want to sell the second-hand merchants -of Sidi-bel-Abbes buy; at prices below contempt, it is true, but all -the same they buy it. The small silver coins of the Ghetto have been -the ruin of more than one soldier of the Legion who in a fit of rage -sold his uniform to the obliging trader and paid the penalty with a -long term of imprisonment. - -Thus the interests of the Ghetto and the interests of the Legion are -identical in a small way, and as a result the Ghetto man and the -soldier are quite friendly with each other. - -The honest citizen of Sidi-bel-Abbes, however, a half-caste of Spanish -or Levantine or French extraction, is anything but fond of the -red-trousered foreigner. He despises the Legion and its men from the -bottom of his heart and has quite forgotten that the very same Legion -built his town for him in the beginning; that there would be no -Sidi-bel-Abbes if there had been no Legion.... His woman-kind draw -their skirts close about them when they meet a legionnaire in the -streets, as if he were plague-stricken. He himself--why, he has managed -to bring it about that the officers' mess is now merely used as an -evening club, while the officers have to dine in hotels, in order that -the honest citizen may make a little money out of them. The -sub-lieutenants dine in one hotel, the first lieutenants in another, -the unmarried captains and higher officers patronise a third. Every -hotel had to have a share in the spoils, of course! The honest citizen -is very indignant when the regimental band does not give a concert -three times weekly for him; he has his public parks swept by the Legion -and takes good care that all the provisions for the three thousand -soldiers are bought in the town itself and nowhere else. For the -trifling purchases which even a poor devil of a legionnaire sometimes -makes he keeps a specially rubbishy class of article and charges double -prices for it. - -The regiment of foreigners is a very good thing for the honest citizen -of Sidi-bel-Abbes, but nevertheless he despises the Legion and the -legionnaire--this citizen of the Foreign Legion's town. - -He takes good care, however, not to express his feelings of dislike too -openly to Monsieur le Legionnaire, for he has more than once learnt -that the men in red trousers are not to be trifled with. That they are -much better left alone, in fact. The much-tried patience of the Legion -has its strongly defined bounds and sometimes it gives way. When the -Legion is not occupied in Tonquin or Madagascar or some such lovely -neighbourhood, the regimental band gives a concert several times a week -in the Place Sadi Carnot. The good man of Sidi-bel-Abbes always found -this concert very fine, but what he did not like about it was that -besides himself thousands of legionnaires promenaded in the Carnot -square, enjoying the band's music as much as the civilians. - -One day the honest citizen drew a cordon of police around the Place -Sadi Carnot, with orders to let no soldiers pass, and thought he would -now have the music all for himself.... - -The legionnaires were struck dumb with astonishment at this unheard-of -impudence and the Arabian policemen felt very uncomfortable. News of -the "outrage" was sent to barracks and in a very few minutes the men of -the Legion were assembled in full force, discussing in fifteen -different languages the evident impossibility of living in peace with -the honest citizen of Sidi-bel-Abbes. All at once an old soldier gave -the word of command: - -"En avant par colonne du regiment--marche!" - -The Arabian policemen tumbled to right and to left, the citizens of -Sidi-bel-Abbes vanished as if by a conjuring trick into the side -streets, and in five minutes there was not a single soul in civilian -clothes to be seen on the Place Sadi Carnot. The men in red trousers -held the field in triumph. - -Since they were in fine humour and out for a real good time they -promptly smashed up all the chairs on which the ladies and gentlemen of -Sidi-bel-Abbes had been sitting, made a pile of them and lit up a grand -bonfire while the regimental band played its gayest marches. - -In the meantime a deputation of citizens had rushed to the colonel of -the regiment and made a great noise about these horrible legionnaires. -The colonel merely laughed. - -"My good sirs," said he, "it is now eleven o'clock. My men have leave -till midnight. In another hour all will be over." - -"But they have burnt the chairs," wailed the deputation. - -"I'm very glad they have not burned anything else," laughed the -colonel. "You leave my men in peace and they'll let you alone." - -Since that time the honest citizen of Sidi-bel-Abbes has been rather -more careful in his treatment of the Legion. It is true that an order -of the town council says that a legionnaire can only get a ticket for -the gallery in the town's theatre, but if a legionnaire with -superfluous money wants a seat in the stalls, he can nevertheless get -it. The honest citizen has learnt to respect the Legion's feelings. - -But, under the surface, the citizen's contempt of the Legion naturally -remained. The soldier of the foreign regiment puts out the fires which -break out in Sidi-bel-Abbes, he saves the citizens and their goods when -the stream of the Mekerra becomes a roaring torrent in the rainy -season, and he protects the helpless townspeople when the descendants -of the Beni Amer try to institute the Jewish persecutions they are so -fond of.... He does all that. But the poor devil of a mercenary has no -money, and this is the Mortal Sin. - - * * * * * - -One quarter of the town was taboo to us legionnaires, strictly -forbidden under a penalty of a month's imprisonment: the "village -negre," the negro town, the home of every sort of disease and crime. -The beasts in human forms which house there had more than once killed a -legionnaire to rob him of his sash or some such trifle. - -Forbidden things always have a mysterious power of attraction, and I -was burning with curiosity. Slowly, keeping a sharp look-out for -patrols, I crossed the big drill-ground one night and turned, close -behind the mosque, into the maze of huts. It was a pitch-dark night, -and I kept falling over the dirt-heaps and tripping in the holes in the -hard trodden ground. - -At last I saw lights. The main street of the village negre lay before -me, a narrow little alley. I could have touched the walls on either -side with outstretched arms. The miserable low houses were half in -ruins, and irregular holes took the place of doors and windows. The -alley, but a few paces long, was brightly illuminated by the light of -half a dozen torches stuck in holes in the walls. - -In this narrow space the vice of Sidi-bel-Abbes was hidden. Songs and -cries and shrieks filled the air. Before the huts women were sitting, -poor prostitutes, who sold themselves for a few coppers and a drink of -absinthe. Here was vice in its most primitive form. The night was cold. -Braziers with glowing coals stood before every hut, and women crouched -over them that they might better warm their bodies at the warmth of the -fire. Modesty seemed to be a thing unknown. A negress with a figure -full of strength lay there stretched at full length almost naked, with -the warmth-giving firepan beside her. She was too worn out or too lazy -to speak, she merely invited the passers-by with a gesture to come into -her hut. Near her a Frenchwoman, in whose face her awful life had cut -deep furrows, sat in a torn silk dress on the bare ground. Beside them -Arabian girls crouched, children almost, the copper bangles on their -arms and legs showing that they were from the far South. Italian women, -with the characteristic gold earrings of their race, and Spaniards, -with oily shining hair, quarrelled in high-pitched voices. The blazing -light of the torches gave their faces an uncanny look. In the midst of -these miserable women moved the scum of the population of -Sidi-bel-Abbes. There were negroes in ragged linen coats who in daytime -carried heavy burdens on their backs and spent their evenings regularly -in the village negre. Spanish labourers chattered and gesticulated with -the Spanish girls. It was the meeting-place of the poor and the -wretched, a corso of humanity at its worst. - -My bayonet rattling gently against the steel sheath startled the men -and women. When they saw that they only had to deal with a single -legionnaire and not with one of the much-feared patrols, they cried out -to me from all sides--in a curious patois of low French mixed with -Arabic. The little I understood of it was quite enough. The language of -the legionnaire leaves nothing wanting in the way of force and -clearness--the language of the village negre was filth condensed. Two -negresses began to quarrel as to whether a common legionnaire could be -in possession of even one sou, a weighty question which was answered in -the negative amid much laughter. The Frenchwoman, who was anything but -sober, poked me in the ribs and begged me, hiccoughing, for a "petite -absinthe." Obscene gestures and drunken cries everywhere. And in the -corner there leaned in dignified repose an Arab policeman. - -It smelled of moschus and heavy sweet Arabian cigarettes. In Arabic the -alley was called the Street of the Seven Delights. Smith had told me -that. One could but shudder at the contemplation of the seven -delights.... - -Then the comedy became clear to me. The honest citizen of -Sidi-bel-Abbes despised the soldier of the Legion--but he tolerated the -horrors of the village negre. - -Short commands sounded from afar and the steady steps of a patrol drew -near. If I was discovered, it meant prison for me, so I dived into the -protecting darkness of a small by-street. Stumbling and falling -continually I felt my way forward in the pitchy darkness, till I heard -low voices. The alley took a sudden turn. - -I found myself in the court of a Moorish house. Arabs in white robes -crouched and squatted on the ground smoking their narghiles. Most of -them hardly looked up as I came in, and an old man with a long white -beard nodded and smiled to me. - -On the glowing fire stood a copper kettle with bubbling hot water, and -an old negro was making tea for the Arabs. On the wall on one side of -the court a cloth was hung up, of fine brocade, with golden embroidery, -on a ground of red and yellow, in fantastical arabesques. Many cushions -were spread on the white sand. The Arabs themselves sat on finely woven -yellow mats. At respectful distance from the men girls stood and -lounged about, wondrous youthful forms with veil-like robes and -countless copper ornaments on arms and legs, which tinkled at their -slightest movement. All were sipping tea out of tiny little cups. All -at once I heard English words, an old nursery rhyme: - - Humpty-Dumpty sat on a wall, - Humpty-Dumpty had a great fall, - And all the king's horses and all the king's men - Could not put Humpty-Dumpty together again. - -Startled, I turned round and saw in the folds of an Arabian burnous the -face of a white woman with fair hair and features who must once have -been beautiful. Smoking an Arabian cigarette, she nodded dreamily with -a happy smile and ever anew she would sing the nursery rhyme.... - -Suddenly a girl sprang up, bracelets jingling, a child almost, of the -pure Arabian type. Fascinated, the Arabs and the other women stared at -her; so still it was that one could hear the sound of one's own -breathing. The girl let the thin veil of a garment she was wearing fall -down to her hips and stood immobile as a statue for a minute or two, -her arms stretched out, the head proudly thrown back, her eyes shining -in triumph--courting admiration. She reminded me forcibly of a bronze -statuette I had possessed in days gone by.... - -Very slowly the child of the South began to dance. The delicate veil -swayed and waved in ever-changing folds around her body of pure copper -colour. Her dancing was wondrously graceful--it was beautiful beyond -dispute. A strange scene it was, enhanced by the very bright colours -and the heavy sweet smells of mysterious perfumes. - -I stared in wonder at the dancing of this child of Nature and the -wonderful rhythm of her movements. Faster grew the dance, the swinging -and circling and posing. Suddenly the girl seized one of the torches -and swung it in broad circles around her head. The firelight fell with -its ruddy glow on her shining hair of black-blue. The hissing torch -seemed to be enveloped in the swaying veil; ever faster grew that mad -whirling. After a final lightning circle of the torch the girl fell -down exhausted.... - -A low murmur of applause arose from among the Arabs and many silver -coins were thrown to her on the mat. - -The woman who had sung the English nursery rhyme sat there as one -stunned; she had forgotten herself and forgotten her surroundings. "My -God," she kept on murmuring, "my God...." - -I stole away and went slowly home to barracks, worn out. - - * * * * * - -A flowery belt of gardens surrounds the town. In broad alleys, which -had been trenches in days gone by, stood groups of palm-trees and olive -groves, planted by the soldiers of the Legion many years ago in the -short intervals of peace. The botanical garden of Sidi-bel-Abbes had -also been founded by the foreign mercenaries, and, to this day, the -Legion has the right to gather flowers from the beds of the Jardin -Public for its dead, and sends three soldiers daily to keep the paths -in order and work for the gardener. In return for this the regiment -considers the Jardin Public its own private property, and on Sundays -that wonderful garden, with its wealth of foliage and flowers, is the -scene of a red-trousered invasion. Not very far from the Jardin Public -lies the regimental garden, where the Legion raises its vegetables and -plants its potatoes. I found it very funny when I was for the first -time commandeered to carry dung in the Legion's garden--it seemed to me -a most peaceful occupation for a modern mercenary.... Far out stretches -the long line of flower gardens, with their narrow foot-paths shaded by -olive-trees. Right at the end of the town, where the gardens come to an -end and the sand begins, there lies the cemetery of Sidi-bel-Abbes. Its -showy monuments, its well-kept flower-beds, and its silent groups of -trees do not give it any particular claim to individuality. If you pass -through the churchyard, however, you will come to a large open space. -Many hundreds of grave mounds lie there. The black wooden crosses are -one like the other. This is the last resting-place of the Foreign -Legion's dead. The Legion's churchyard. I was once commandeered to work -there. An aged corporal, who lived in a cottage in a corner of the -cemetery, and in the days of his old age filled the post of -grave-digger to the Legion, gave me gardening tools and a watering-can. -I walked along the long rows of graves, pulling out weeds and watering -the grass. An indescribable feeling of loneliness overcame me. - -So impersonal, so poor, so barren are those graves! They lie quite -close together as if even in death the legionnaires must be drawn up in -line for parade. The crosses are so small, so roughly painted, that one -cannot get over the feeling that sordid economy is practised even on -the last resting-place of the legionnaire. The crosses are hung with -wreaths made of glass beads and with an artificial flower here and -there. The name of the dead man is written on a small piece of board -and underneath the name stands his number. To this comes the laconic -addition: "Legion etrangere." I felt sorry for these poor fellows who -even in the last sleep of death had to bear a number which reminded one -of a convict prison. I went from cross to cross and read the various -names. Almost every nation in the world has contributed to the graves -in the cemetery of the Foreign Legion, though the German names on the -little crosses have a large majority. - -A regiment of dead soldiers lies buried here. But it is only a small -fraction of the Legion's dead. The others sleep somewhere in the sands -of Africa--where they fell. Thirteen hundred legionnaires lie buried in -Mexico. Hundreds and thousands rot in the swamps of Madagascar. -Indo-China has been the death of hundreds of others. - -The wind swept the dead leaves which fluttered across from the cemetery -of respectability over the graves of the legionnaires. I looked at the -endless line of grave mounds and at the meaningless numbers. And I -thought of an old German song: - -Verdorben--gestorben.... Ruined--dead! - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -A HUNDRED THOUSAND HEROES--A HUNDRED THOUSAND VICTIMS - -The hall of honour : A collection of ruined talents : The battle of -Camaron : A skeleton outline of the Legion's history : A hundred -thousand victims : A psychological puzzle : True heroes : How they are -rewarded : The chances of promotion : The pension system of the Foreign -Legion - - -Close by the prison, parted from the little square of sand and gravel, -which formed the prisoners' exercise-ground, by a low brick wall, there -stands the Legion's hall of honour. - -A tiny little door is built into the wall and bears the inscription -"Salle d'honneur." Day and night there stands a sentry with fixed -bayonet before the regiment's holy of holies. For the soldiers of the -Legion it is forbidden ground, and the officers only gather there on -festive occasions. - -Late one evening I stole through the little gate. The sentry on duty -was a man of my own company, whom I bribed with a packet of cigarettes -to let me through. - -I found myself in a tiny garden. Fantastic figures in mosaic work -covered the ground; everywhere were dense groups of palms and laurels, -and a broad flight of steps led up to the vestibule in Moorish style. -As I entered the hall a flood of colour met my gaze. The walls of the -enormous room were covered with pictures. Flanking the entrance were -the life-size portraits of two legionnaires, the one in modern African -campaigning kit, and the other in the uniform of 1815, of the "Legion -d'Hohenlohe." On the walls were the portraits of all the regiment's -commanders and of the officers killed in battle. The names of the dead -were inscribed on a marble slab in golden letters. - -I noticed with astonishment that the Foreign Legion's list of -commanding officers contained many names unmistakably German. There -were the Colonels Stoffel, de Mollenbeck, Conrad, de Huelsen, and Meyer. -And in very good company were these German soldiers of fortune: the -list showed the names of some of France's most famous soldiers and -generals. Each of them had at some time or other commanded the Foreign -Legion, each had won his first military laurels leading the regiment of -strangers: men famous indeed, the Legion's pride: MacMahon, Canrobert, -Bazain, de Negrier, Saussier.... - -Numerous pictures of battles represented episodes in the fights in -which the Legion had taken part, and now and again among these -paintings were real works of art. A number of these pictures come from -the brush of Captain Cousin, while the allegorical frescoes on the -ceiling are the work of an artist who wore the red breeches and blue -coat of a common soldier. The legionnaire Hablutzel--the artist who -decorated the Salle d'honneur--was a humble ranker. - -In the French Army the Legion's varied talents are famous, and there -are several stories besides that of this humble artist. The history of -the Legion can tell of many such as he. - -Five years ago the officers determined to build a new mess. There was -only one objection to the fulfilment of this wish: the regimental -coffers were wellnigh empty. It was the colonel's idea to seek help in -the regiment itself. In spite of the fact that the garrison at that -time consisted of only one battalion, it was found on inquiry to -contain no less than seven architects. These seven soldiers became once -more seven artists, and executed the plans for the new officers' mess. -They agreed on the style of a Tonquin pagoda. Among the Norwegians of -the regiment were several carpenters who were experts in artistic -woodwork; there were more than enough builders and masons to be found, -and the bankrupt owner of a brickfield was glad enough to return for a -time to his old profession and assume the direction of a section told -off to make bricks. In a few weeks the mess was ready--its cost was -solely that of the raw material. - -The seven architects then once more shouldered their rifles. - -There is another famous instance. In one of the countless fights in -Southern Algeria, a company got cut off from the main column and -suffered heavy losses in a scrap with the Arabs. The number of wounded -was very great, and nothing could be done for them, as the doctors and -bearers were with the main column. At last the captain in the thick of -the firing called out to his men: - -"Are there any doctors among you?" - -Three legionnaires at once stepped forward. One was a graduate of the -Sorbonne, another had gained the diploma of the University of Zurich, -and the third had attained to the rank of M.D. at a German University. - -Less strange, perhaps, but just as interesting, is the fact that for -the building of a fort in the Legion three fortification experts -reported themselves from a single company: two quondam Austrian pioneer -officers, and a lieutenant from the British Royal Engineers. - -General de Negrier, who loved the Legion, used to say that les -etrangers had three inestimable advantages: they were brilliant -fighters, they marched till they dropped, and--there was nothing that -they could not do. He would undertake to build an engine with his -legionnaires; from their ranks he could assemble the faculties of a -university; there were men among them who could not only fight through -a war, but they could also write its history. - -The fact that the Foreign Legion's band is the best in the French army, -and that it came back covered with glory every time it went to Paris to -give concerts, is another proof of the many-sidedness of the Legion's -talents. Many an artist who once played in the orchestra of one of the -world's famous theatres afterwards carried the Legion's trumpets on his -heavy-laden haversack. - -I hardly need to emphasise the fact that these legionnaires, who, by -virtue of their professions and social standing, belonged to a -different class of society, always represented the exceptions, and that -the majority of the men in the Legion were very simple fellows, whose -past had nothing at all interesting about it. It is always the -exceptions that one notices. An editor of the _Temps_, who visited -Sidi-bel-Abbes and struck up a chance conversation with me, said in -astonishment: - -"I was speaking just now to a professor of Greek, and now you're a -journalist. Is the Legion then a collection of ruined talents?" - -In between the paintings in the Salle d'honneur there stand the -Legion's memorial tablets, with the names of the battles in which the -Legion took part written on them: forty-eight great battles, fought in -all corners of the earth, from Indo-China in the East to Mexico in the -Far West. The most disastrous fight in the annals of the regiment was -that of Camaron, in Mexico, on April 30, 1863. - -A creepy souvenir of this fight lies on a little table in the Salle -d'honneur--an embalmed human hand. It is the hand of Captain Danjou, -who was in command of a detachment of sixty men from the third company -of the Legion who were killed to a man at Camaron. Over two thousand -Mexican irregulars set upon the detachment in the neighbourhood of the -village of Camaron. The detachment fought its way through the hostile -cavalry to a farmhouse, entrenched itself there, and held out for a -whole day against the overwhelming odds. Five times were they called -upon to surrender, and five times was the answer--"Merde!" - -When the Mexicans at last took the house by storm, they found heaped up -before the door a pile of dead. The few survivors were badly wounded. A -few hours later relief came. But the French troops only found a heap of -dead. Beside the captain's body lay his severed hand. - -Weapons from all countries adorned the walls of the Salle d'honneur. -Straight Mexican swords and curved Arabian scimitars of pliant steel -hung side by side; beside poisoned arrows from Madagascar there were -old-fashioned bayonets which had done all sorts of bloody work in the -Legion's service. In the Salle d'honneur there are souvenirs of almost -a century of battles. - -The Foreign Legion was founded in the year 1831 under the name of "The -African Auxiliaries." - -The continual fighting in Algeria used to decimate the French troops -posted there. In the reign of King Louis Philippe the idea was started -of reviving the mediaeval institution of mercenaries, and of raising -troops for service in Africa composed entirely of foreign adventurers. -A Belgian adventurer who called himself Baron de Boegard, with no -particular authority, but still without active opposition on the part -of the King's generals, collected around him a band composed of the -doubtful characters of all nations. He assumed the title of -lieutenant-general, and finally succeeded in persuading the military -authorities that his fellows would make capital stuff for service in -Algeria. About 4000 men took the oath of allegiance on the French -colours in Marseilles and embarked for Africa. The French troops there -turned up their noses at these tattered soldiers, and the hostile Arabs -called them mockingly "the Bedouins from France,"[3] because they were -so poor and ragged. The new-comers, however, plundered with such -voracity as to astonish even the French troops, who were anything but -scrupulous, and they were capital fighters into the bargain. A royal -edict, dated March 10, 1831, sanctioned their incorporation in a -Foreign Legion of their own under the name of the Legion Etrangere, on -the pattern of the Legion d'Hohenlohe, which fought at the time of the -Restoration. The regiment consisted of seven battalions, divided -according to the different nationalities of the men: - - 1st, 2nd, and 3rd battalions Swiss and Germans. - 4th battalion Spaniards. - 5th battalion Italians. - 6th battalion Belgians and Dutchmen. - 7th battalion Poles. - - [3] The Arabs who had established themselves in the towns - used to despise the vagabond Bedouins. - -After a short time the authorities left off separating the various -nationalities from each other and contented themselves with teaching -the foreigners the French words of command as quickly as possible. - -A period of fighting now began for the Legion such as no regiment in -the world has ever experienced. - -Even in its first fights in Algeria the regiment suffered heavy losses. -Then the King of France lent the Foreign Legion to the Queen Regent -Christina of Spain to fight against the Carlists. For their services in -Spain the Legion was to have been given 800,000 francs, but this sum -was never paid. On the other hand, 3500 of the 4000 legionnaires fell -in action. A bare 500 returned to Africa half starved and in rags. - -New recruits joined--there has never been a lack of men ready to serve -in the Foreign Legion. Algeria was conquered after ceaseless fighting, -in which the battles of Condiat-Ati, M'Shomesh, Constantine, and -Zaatcha were only the more important fights in an endless campaign. -Even at this period of its existence the Legion grasped the fact that -its mission was not only to furnish soldiers, but also pioneers, -labourers, and city-builders. They worked hard, building town after -town, and there is to-day no city in French Northern Africa in which -the first European building was not built by legionnaires. In the -Crimean War the Legion was ordered to Russia, where, in the Battle of -the Alma, it was the first regiment to come under fire and fought with -great bravery. In General Canrobert's despatches 29 officers and men of -the Legion were mentioned for bravery in the Battles of the Alma and -Inkerman. In the siege of Sebastopol the Foreign Legion was very much -to the fore and was cordially hated by the Russians. The besieged -called them "the leather-bellies," from the great African -cartridge-pouches which they wore in front. In the Crimea their losses -were enormous, and Napoleon III. rewarded their services by -naturalising a number of the Legion's officers and men. - -At that time the Legion never experienced years of peace, only months -of peace at the most, and even these were few and far between. Les -etrangers were hardly home from the Crimea when a rebellion among the -Algerian Arabs broke out, which led to the famous Arab expedition. The -mighty battle of Ischeriden brought the tribes of Beni Jenni, Beni -Raten, and the Beni Amer into subjection. The regiment had a few -hundred more to add to its list of dead and had won new honours, only, -as a real regiment of mercenaries, to be transferred to a new field of -battle. Real wandering Ahasvers were these African mercenaries. This -time it was to Italy, to Magenta, that they were ordered. Again they -came back, their numbers diminished by a thousand or more, and had to -start once more from Sidi-bel-Abbes on an expedition against the -natives in Morocco. - -Thus passed the year 1860. During the next two years the Legion was -engaged in desultory fighting against the Arabs and Bedouins without, -to their great disgust, bringing off any grande affaire. - -In February the Legion embarked for Mexico and witnessed the disastrous -events of the short imperial period. They made roads, working hard, and -occasionally brought off some mad exploit with the greatest bravery, -adding that day at Camaron to the Legion's roll of honours. The result -of the Mexican campaign, as far as the Legion is concerned, is best -shown by their losses: 1918 men dead and missing; 328 died of their -wounds; and 1859 met their deaths from various illnesses. - -On coming back to Algeria the Legion filled up its ranks once more and -was scattered in little detachments over the province of Oran to play, -for the sake of variety, the part of settlers, digging wells, building -villages, and laying roads--till the year 1870. In the Franco-German -War the Legion first came into action at Orleans. All the German -legionnaires had, however, been left in Africa. After the conclusion of -peace the Legion helped in the putting down of the Commune, where so -much blood was shed, and made itself thoroughly hated in Paris. - -As had been the case since the foundation of the Legion, fights in -Algeria began once more. The rebellion of the Kaid Si Hamze, in the -year 1871 and the years following, brought them fresh campaigns. While -de Negrier was colonel of the regiment he mounted a part of the Legion -on mules, to be able to cover greater stretches of country, a system -which has been kept up to this day, and which formed one of the first -examples of mounted infantry. Till the year 1883 the legionnaires -remained in Africa, and enjoyed a period of comparative quietude, which -only brought a few Arab rebellions and a few dozen skirmishes. Then, -however, they started off once more on their travels. The Far East, -Tonquin, was the scene of a colonial war against a brave enemy and a -murderous climate. The victories of Bac-Ninh, Hong-Hoa, Soc-Nam, and -Chu are so many days of fame for these foreign mercenaries, whose -regimental history during these fifty years will never meet its equal. -In the year 1892 we find the Legion in Dahomey fighting against King -Behanzin, in the year 1895 in Madagascar. At the present date we hear -of the regiment chiefly in Morocco. - -This is merely a short sketch, a skeleton outline of the Legion's -history--one of the most notable histories that any soldiers' -chronicler can point to, the story of a band of homeless adventurers. -Their pay was always ridiculously small, their punishments barbarous, -and the discipline that they were subject to more than hard. And yet -there were always thousands of recruits willing to shed their life's -blood, who did not serve under the Legion's flag merely to earn their -living, but formed one of the best bodies of troops in the world. What -misery and misfortune must there be in Europe to bring thousands and -thousands of poor and desperate men flocking to the Legion's standard, -whose total in the eighty years of the regiment's existence must add up -to an overwhelming figure. I have been through all the French books on -the Legion to try and find the exact figure, but without success. The -exact strength of the Legion has always been kept well to the -background. The two regiments have now and then reached an enormous -strength. Beauvoir, for instance, mentions that in the year 1895 a -single company in Sidi-bel-Abbes was 4864 men strong. - -He gives the nationalities of the Legion in that year as follows: - - Alsatians 45 per cent. - Germans 12 " - Swiss 8 " - Belgians 7 " - Frenchmen 5 " - Spaniards 5 " - Italians 5 " - Austrians 4 " - Dutchmen 4 " - From various countries 5 " - -The average strength of the two battalions varies between 8000 and -12,000 men. The percentage of deaths from illness, above all fever, is -extraordinarily high, and when to this we add the many thousands killed -in battle, and consider that desertions are very frequent, we come to -the astounding conclusion that in eighty years a good deal over a -hundred thousand men have served under the Legion's flag. - -In giving this figure I make no claim to accuracy. It may be far below -the mark or again it may be a few thousands too high. - -Be that as it may, a mighty army of men of all nations has served in -the Foreign Legion, working hard and suffering the most awful hardships -under an iron discipline that punishes even the most trivial offences -with the hardest of punishments. The pay has never been higher than it -is now; not enough to purchase even the trifles which a soldier needs -to clean his uniform and equipment, to say nothing about his personal -needs, be they ever so small. The assertion that these hundred thousand -men have made the French Government a present of their work and -strength during all these years, and all too often of their lives, is -no exaggeration. Even though the history of the Foreign Legion, the -history of that ever-fighting band of men, reads like a romance of -mediaeval times, one is easily led to look at the matter from the French -standpoint and to make the pharisaical assertion so commonly believed -in France, that the Foreign Legion is the scum of humanity, useless -human rubbish which has been turned into useful dung for colonisation, -if one may use the expression, in the service of improvement. - -The modern thinker is much more inclined to ask himself in wonderment -how it came that year after year so many men were willing to sell their -lives for a country that was not their own. These thousands have not -even had the inducement of high wages. - -Here we stand before a riddle, before some mysterious force which -convinced these thousands of desperate men that the African Foreign -Legion was their last refuge. The mighty deeds of the Legion are still -more of a riddle. All these men have been clever enough to discover -sooner or later what a very poor sort of bargain they made when they -enlisted, and the Legion has always been a hotbed of seething -discontent. As it is to-day, so has it always been; the only subject of -conversation in the Legion is an endless discussion of that -all-important question: how and when to desert. The legionnaire has -enriched the French language with a variety of strange curses to give -expression to his rage at the tyranny and infamous treatment of which -he is the victim. It is really a marvel that these discontented -fellows, soldiers who were always on the eve of deserting, always -forgot their grievances when they came under fire. - -One or two were perhaps men of the type which frequently occurs in the -Legion of to-day, who only enlist to meet death in a form which appeals -to their fancy, and who volunteer for one dangerous expedition after -another till they meet the bullet for which they are so eager. But -these have always been the exceptions. To the others fighting has -always been a delight. - -... A detachment of men are stationed in an isolated fort. The heat of -the sun is merciless, the hard work unbearable and the monotony of duty -gets on their nerves: the whole garrison becomes restless and can only -be kept in order with the greatest difficulty. Then comes the command -to turn out: there is a prospect of soldiering in earnest: the men are -beside themselves with joy--when they have to fight they are relieved -from slavery. - -This enthusiasm and passion to get at the enemy is the redeeming -feature of many a ruined life. It acts as a safety-valve: otherwise the -men could never stand the deadly monotony of their lives. - -The soldiers of the Legion have never yet fought just because they had -to fight, or because their officers urged them on to it or because they -had to defend their own wretched lives. The history of the regiment can -only tell of glorious attacks, of furious charges made with a bravery -that absolutely disregards danger and death. These poor adventurers -have their own individual ideas of honour for which they are proud to -give their lives and which the only French general who ever understood -the Legion expressed in a few enthusiastic words. It was General de -Negrier who said: - - Some soldiers can fight--the legionnaire can die. - -That is the legionnaire's idea of honour: his own individual idea. He -will never hear the signal for retreat. I have so often heard the -murmur of discontent which runs through the ranks when the hated call -is heard at a manoeuvre. Eleven times in its history has the Legion -refused to obey when the signal for retreat was blown. - -In France the performances of the Foreign Legion have always been -recognised. It is true that the recognition has taken no substantial -form. Its officers have always reaped the reward of quick promotion, -but the legionnaire himself has always remained a poor devil without -pay and without the slightest hope for the future. - - * * * * * - -Five centimes daily wages! - -On paper the legionnaire is paid seven centimes a day. That's what -stands in the French army list. Two centimes daily are, however, -deducted for messing, so that the real wages are five centimes per -diem. After the "second conge," when he has five years' service behind -him, his wages are raised to ten centimes daily; a corporal gets twenty -centimes--a scale of pay which has perhaps a parallel in the Chinese -army, certainly nowhere else in the world. - -As a set-off against this miserable payment the French books on the -subject draw attention to the chance of quick advancement. This, -however, is a trifle contradictory to the actual facts of the case. In -the Foreign Legion at present among a round three hundred officers -there is only one who is not a Frenchman, a quondam officer in the -Austrian army, who worked his way up from the ranks. Even among the -non-commissioned officers the percentage of foreigners is very small. -It can easily be understood that the colonel lays some stress on the -fact that the non-coms shall be Frenchmen: this, however, renders the -prospect of promotion for a foreigner proportionately small. - -It is only now and again that a foreigner rises further than the rank -of corporal. When he is specially talented he may become a sergeant but -hardly ever reaches the rank of colour-sergeant. An exception to this -rule is made in the case of officers who have been turned out of other -armies. For these, the Foreign Legion has special regulations. They are -not asked to show any papers nor are inquiries made into the reasons -why they were originally dismissed: all that is required is a -photograph showing him in uniform. They are then let off all recruits' -work and are sent to the "peloton des eleves caporaux," the -non-commissioned officers' school, are in eight weeks corporal, and in -four months sergeant. It is, however, a great rarity when one of these -men rises any further. - -Often enough one hears that the Legion's pension is a liberal one. The -Legion has a right to a pension after fifteen years of service, and -then he gets 500 francs a year. That sounds very fine. The fact, -however, remains that a man who spends fifteen years in all sorts of -climates, and who works for fifteen years with the energy required of a -legionnaire, can easily amass a small fortune. Another interesting fact -is that very few legionnaires are capable of serving fifteen years. -They die long before the time is up: either from fever, overwork, or an -enemy's bullet.... No, the Legion's pension system is a mockery. - -The only sort of compensation that remains is the Cross of the Legion -of Honour and the Medaille militaire, with both of which goes a sum of -money; in the case of the Cross of the Legion of Honour a very -considerable one. These distinctions, however, are so seldom conferred -that they can hardly be taken into the question as representing a -complement to the miserable pay, or as a possibility of earning -anything other than coppers in the Legion. - -The only tangible reward that those heroes, to whose deeds of honour -the Hall of Honour bears witness, have earned has been: - -Five centimes a day--those glorious days included. - -And what is the end of it all? The legionnaire's life in the Legion -begins with the motto, "Work without pay," and at the end of it he -stands in the street like a beggar, and does not know what in the world -to do for a living. Even in the rare cases in which the climate and the -hardships he has undergone have not ruined his constitution, and his -health is still good, he is quite helpless. - -I have spoken with hundreds and thousands of these legionnaires who -have served their time as they lounged about the courtyard of the -barracks in Sidi-bel-Abbes, rejoicing that they had done with the -Foreign Legion for ever. They were dressed in a dark blue suit, which -is served out from the quartermaster's office to those who have served -their time, being made of an ugly blue stuff, which looks like blue -sacking. Of course their clothes did not fit them in the least, the -trousers being either too long or too short, and the coat looked like a -sack, for how could one expect them to take any trouble about a good -fit in the quartermaster's office. As head-gear they wore an enormous -flat cap, such as the sailors in the ports on the Mediterranean wear. -This suit, together with boots, a single pair of socks and a shirt, was -all that they possessed after five years of service. - -They had also the right of travelling free of charge to any town in -France, and were given a franc a day as long as their journey lasted. -No legionnaire, however, is transported to his real home, which is -generally outside France. The majority, with grim humour, chose some -town in the far north, generally Dunkirk, in order that the journey -might be as long as possible. As a result of this the Mayor of Dunkirk -wrote and begged the French Minister of War not to send any more -legionnaires there. The authorities had not the faintest idea what to -do with them; in Dunkirk there was not even enough work for the -townsmen themselves. - -A legionnaire who has served his time is thus absolutely helpless, -being stranded penniless in a totally strange town. His clothes are -such as to prevent him applying for any work but that of a labourer, -and the only papers he has to show are his certificates of dismissal -from the Foreign Legion, which are worth very little in France. There -are plenty of fine speeches made about the glorious Foreign Legion in -the French Republic, but there is a prejudice against having anything -to do with a legionnaire in the flesh there. Everywhere he is shown the -door, and the poor devil begins a terrible course of starvation. - -How often have I seen these men come back again with a batch of -recruits to Sidi-bel-Abbes, and their old comrades mockingly asking -them why they were in Africa once more. It was always the same old -story: for days and weeks and even months starving and half perished -with cold they had struggled against their fate, and gone from house to -house seeking work until their clothes were mere rags and their boots -were worn out. Finally, they had despaired of ever finding work, and -had begun to coquet with the thought that in the Legion they had at -least had enough to eat, with the result that in a few days they had -sought out the nearest recruiting-office, and had bound themselves for -a further five years of slavery. - -This after five long years of work--the gratitude of France. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -"MARCH OR DIE!" - -The Legion's war-cry : A night alarm : On the march : The counting of -the milestones : Under canvas : The brutality of the marches : The -legionnaire and the staff doctor : My fight for an opiate : The -"marching pig" : The psychology of the marches : Excited nerves : -"Cafard" : The song of imprecations - - -Weeks passed. Recruit time was over, and I was serving with the troops. - -From the very beginning I was anxious to do my duty as well as I could. -The real soldier's duties were a pleasure to me, and like the other -legionnaires who daily debated the chances of receiving marching -orders, I longed with fantastical impatience for active service. - -The Legion always seemed to me to be in a state of feverish impatience, -always on the jump, always expecting marching orders. The regiment's -traditional fiery military spirit infected even the youngest recruits. -When vague rumours of a new rising of the Arabs on the Morocco frontier -penetrated to the barracks, or when the _Echo d'Oran_ with the laconic -brevity of official telegrams announced new skirmishes in Indo-China, -the news spread like wildfire through the Legion's quarters. Everywhere -you could see groups of legionnaires, speaking of their hopes of at -last receiving marching orders. When an especially exciting report had -been spread, they sometimes stood in crowds before the regimental -offices, waiting for one of the clerks to rush down the stairs with the -news: - -"Faites le sac." - -Pack your knapsacks! This is the old ominous war-cry that sounds from -room to room when the Legion mobilises, the dry business-like password -calling the Legion to its military business. - -The thirst for adventure, which is an element of the Legion, as -inseparable from it as poverty and hard work, always lay in the air. - -For the first time I heard the alarm sounded in the middle of night. I -jumped up out of my sleep in a fright. "Aux armes!" the bugle sounded -from the barrack-yard. The sergeants and corporals rushed through the -barracks crying the alarm, "Aux armes!"--To arms! - -All at once the stillness of the night was turned into a perfect -pandemonium--shouting and yelling and roaring sounded from room to -room, the barracks were in an uproar. - -"Faites le sac. En tenue de campagne d'Afrique," the corporals shouted, -and renewed rejoicing answered them. - -The "African field equipment" was not such a simple thing, and in spite -of all the yelling and shouting we worked with feverish excitement, for -in ten minutes we had to stand in the barrack-yard ready for marching. -There was singing and whistling everywhere while the knapsacks were -packed and everybody wondered whether we were going "au Maroc" at last -or whether the Arab tribes of the South were in rebellion again. The -cartridge-cases were brought from the magazine and their covers burst -open with hatchets. The packets of cartridges were thrown from man to -man. We tore off the cardboard covering and ... saw that they were -blank cartridges. - -"Merde!" roared Corporal Wassermann. - -Roaring and singing stopped as if by magic. As blank cartridges only -were served out, it could but be a question of a short manoeuvre and -the Legion would not dream of working up enthusiasm for an ordinary -"marche militaire." In this case the short manoeuvre march really -extended over three hundred kilometres--three hundred kilometres to the -South, three hundred kilometres back again; a total distance of six -hundred kilometres, which is about four hundred miles.... - -By the light of a lantern the companies formed up in the barrack-yard. -In a moment the baggage and ammunition carts were packed, because the -Legion always carries sharp ammunition on the march to be prepared for -any emergency. Then we went out into the night to the tune of the -Legion's march. - -Any one who has once heard the march of the Legion will never forget -it, its peculiar sharp rhythm broken by the bugles' storm signal. The -Legion's band is forbidden to play it in the garrison or on the -parade--the regimental march is played before the enemy or on long -marches. - -Sidi-bel-Abbes woke up as soon as the band commenced to play in the -quiet streets; windows were thrown open and out of the corners all the -riff-raff of the sleeping town came into view: miserable-looking white -men and dirty negroes looked at the marching company with sleepy eyes -in high astonishment. In a few minutes we were out of town and marched -along the yellow sandy road in dim moonlight. The marching order was in -column of four as is customary in the Legion. - -I marched in the first row of fours of my company. In the front the -four drummers plodded along close behind our captain's white horse. -Abreast of the captain walked Lieutenant Garde-Joergensen, a Dane, a -soldier of fortune.... - -The silent march into the night was trying for my burning curiosity, -and I did a most unmilitary thing: - -"Where are we going to, Lieutenant?" I asked. - -The officer nearly burst with laughter. - -"I don't know myself where we are going to," he said. "If you were an -old legionnaire you would not ask, my boy. We are marching. We are -probably marching for a long time. We are always marching. We never -know if we are only going to manoeuvre or to meet the enemy. That's -how it is. Tiens! will you have a cigarette?" - -The first rows were laughing and Smith was shouting in his deep voice: - -"Le sac, ma foi, toujours au dos." - -Renewed laughter. Every one was talking and wondering where we were -marching to and how long the march would last. Some of them thought it -was nothing but a night march; others discussed the probability of -"real work" being in sight. - -"What do you think you know about it?" said Smith to me with a grin. -"Nothing. We march, sonny, and that's all there is to do. God and the -colonel know what's going to come of it." - -We heard the clatter of a galloping horse and turning our heads -curiously we saw a bright spot on the uniform of the rider, sparkling -like a star. The rider was the Commander-General of Algeria, and the -shining spot on his breast was the Grand Cross of the Legion of Honour. - -"Oh, la la," said Smith, shaking his head. "Tell you what, Dutchy, if -the old man himself has got up in the middle of the night you may send -your little legs a message to get ready for a lot of work. Now we shall -march, sonny. You can bet your bottom dollar on that. The old man there -means manoeuvring, heaps of it, or--Arabs." - -Milestone after milestone passed by and the jokes ceased very soon, as -the marching regiment settled down to business. Silently the regiment -tramped onwards. The knapsack pressed heavily; heads went down and -shoulders bent low to spread the heavy weight on the back; the -gun-straps cut into the shoulders until one's right arm was almost lame -and the painful prickly feeling caused by the non-circulating blood had -grown permanent. - -After the first ten kilometres a shrill signal-whistle sounded and the -whole company wheeled off to the roadside to rest in long line for five -minutes. I pulled off my knapsack and threw it upon the ground with a -feeling of relief, joyful at getting rid of the heavy weight for a few -minutes. To my great astonishment, the other men kept their knapsacks -on their backs and at once threw themselves at full length on the -ground. Later on I did the same. The halt was so short that one lost -priceless seconds in taking off and strapping on the knapsack, seconds -only, but even seconds are precious for the marching legionnaire. - -Five minutes is but a short span of time. But never in my life has a -time of rest seemed so delicious, so beneficial, so reviving as when I -lay stretched out on the hot African sand for those pitifully short -five minutes.... - -The company wheeled into column again and trudged forwards on the -endless road, whose straight sameness was only interrupted by the -mile-stones. With each mile it became quieter in the marching rows. The -legs and back were strained to the utmost, and a word spoken appeared a -waste of energy. One seemed to be a machine, marching on mechanically -behind the man in front when once put in motion; each man was -sufficiently occupied with himself. If any one in utter weariness took -a step to the right or a step to the left out of marching line, he got -an oath hurled at him--you were so tired that even the slight touch of -your comrade swaying out of line was an extra burden to the tormented -body. - -When the morning mists and the bitter cold of the dawn were followed by -the hot burning sun, we had accomplished a march of forty kilometres, -and the time came when our legs refused to do any more. When the signal -sounded for rest, we fell down helpless, and when we started marching -again, it looked as if a crowd of invalids and old men were slowly -wandering down the road. The worn-out legs revenged themselves for the -hard usage they had received. During the halt the flow of blood was -hemmed in the limbs. Standing on one's feet again, one felt a sharp -stinging pain in the soles. Every step was torture. For five minutes -afterwards one crawled along as best one could, till one became once -more an unfeeling automaton. - -Again the slow progress past the milestones. At eleven o'clock in the -morning we reached a little village. The marks on the last milestone -said that we were fifty kilometres from Sidi-bel-Abbes. We passed by -the old rickety houses of the village, and at a given signal the -regiment halted, the companies forming up on the dry, sandy piece of -ground to the left of the street. - -Then followed the command: "Halt!" and immediately afterwards the -order: "Campez!" - -In a moment we had piled our arms. The knapsacks were thrown to the -ground and the folding tent-supports and the tent-covers pulled out. -Then the corporal of each section stepped out of the line, holding the -tent-poles high above his head to mark the tent line for the whole -company. Again a short command, and in a few seconds the waste surface -of sand was covered with little white tents. - -It was a miracle. We were so well drilled and each individual knew his -part so well that it only took a few seconds to pitch a tent. With -surprising quickness the long rows of soldiers were turned into a tent -encampment and five minutes afterwards the officers' tents were pitched -in a final row. In the meantime Madame la Cantiniere had hauled out of -her sutler's cart folding tables and benches, ready to do a roaring -trade with the tired-out legionnaires. The heavy Algerian wine was -indeed a blessing after such a march and the poor devil who in these -marching days did not possess a few coppers felt poor indeed. - -In ten minutes the narrow trenches for cooking were dug out and in -twenty places camp fires flared up simultaneously. The patrol marched -round and round the white "soldiers' city." The food, consisting of -macaroni and tinned meat, was greedily devoured. - -After this the quiet of utter exhaustion reigned in the camp. The -legionnaires lay huddled together in the tiny tents, on blankets spread -out on the ground, covered with their cloaks, while the knapsacks -served for a pillow. The rifles were brought into the tents and tied -firmly together with a long chain by the corporal of each squad, who -fastened the end of the chain to his wrist as a further precaution, for -the Arabs had a habit of creeping through the lines on a dark night and -stealing the much-coveted weapons from the tents. The patrols of the -Legion have standing orders to challenge an Arab only once at night and -then to fire. Even in this first night the watch caught a thief. The -Arab was badly treated and he was delivered up to the civil authorities -in the village the next morning in a horrible condition. - -By seven o'clock in the evening the whole camp was fast asleep, -sleeping the sleep of exhaustion. - -An hour after midnight, in the flittering light of a magnificent starry -sky, the companies formed up and continued the route to the South. This -march lasted eight days. On one day the troops covered forty -kilometres, making up the average again the next day with fifty -kilometres. The monotony of this march and the physical strength and -endurance it claimed of each of us cannot be described. At last, at the -beginning of the real desert, we depended on the oasis-wells with their -poor supply of water to quench our thirst, and the want of water was -added to our sufferings. At night, when starting on the march, the -field-flasks were filled. The distribution of water was conducted under -sharp supervision. Every man got two litres of dirty, muddy water. -Company orders warned us to save up half a litre for the morrow's -"soupe." On camping next day every legionnaire had to give up half a -litre of water to the mess of his company for cooking purposes. Whoever -had emptied his field-flask during the heat and weariness of the march -and was unable to deliver any water only got a handful of raw rice -given him; he had to get it cooked as best he could. - -This is one of the many brutal rules in force on these marches and -there is method in it. Contrary to most of the legionnaires, I have -always seen the necessity for the hard marching discipline. Troops that -have to march in such droughty country must be able to economise their -water rations. This is simply a law of necessity. There is another -brutal feature of the Legion's marches: cruel at first sight but it is -really kindness to the men. A legionnaire who faints on the march is -tied to the baggage-cart. A pole is pushed through the sides of the -cart at about the height of a man's arms and the legionnaire roped to -it by the shoulders. The pole keeps him in a standing position--the -cart rolls on. He either has to march or he is dragged along the uneven -ground. Seeing the thing done for the first time, I was filled with -indignation at the apparent brutality of this torture. But afterwards I -understood. In the wars in the South the fighting value of the Foreign -Legion depends solely on its marching capability. Very often the -ambulance is not able to follow. If the legionnaire remains behind the -company in the desert, if only a kilometre, he is irretrievably lost. -Hundreds and hundreds of men incapable of marching have found a -terrible end in this way. The Arab women, who are far more cruel than -the men, soon surround the helpless man, who suffers a painful death, -after being horribly mutilated and disfigured. - -Separation from the troops means death. This was not only the case at -the time of the great Arab mutiny, which affected the whole of Algeria, -but is the same to-day. Peace between the French and the Arabs down in -the far south of Algeria is a myth. At the small military stations on -the borders of the Sahara little skirmishes are a daily occurrence. -When the station is alarmed and the thirty or forty men garrisoned -there set out to pursue the pillaging Bedouin tribes, every legionnaire -knows well that now he must march, or if he cannot march any more, he -must die. March or die! - -Death at the hands of Arab women! The legionnaire does not count the -Bedouin or the Arab as a personal enemy; he is rather grateful to the -robber of the desert for being the cause of a little change and -excitement in the terribly monotonous life on the border stations. But -upon the Arab woman the old legionnaire looks as upon a devil. He -thinks of the hellish tortures that wounded men have suffered at the -hands of Arab women, he remembers the mutilated bodies of legionnaires -who had died an awful death after being tortured for many hours. - -In the fourth year of his service, Rassedin had been ordered to one of -the little Sahara stations, where he had seen much of the cruelty of -the Arab women. Once a scouting party of his detachment found a -skeleton in the sand of the desert. Shreds of a uniform showed that the -skeleton had once been a soldier of the Legion. The skeleton's head was -lying between the legs.... Another time the corporal of Rassedin's -squad was missed at the morning call. In the evening he had taken a -walk just in the neighbourhood of the station and had not returned. -After a short search they found him. - -"He was dead. But even in death I could see the frightful agony in his -wide-open eyes," Rassedin declared. "Both legs were broken and bent -backwards. The lower part of his body was slashed to pieces, but none -of his wounds was deadly. They must have tormented him for hours. From -that time we made no difference between men and women in fighting, but -shot down every one. How did we know that it had really been women who -had tortured the corporal? The dead man clutched a piece of a glass -bracelet in his hand, which he must have torn off the arm of his -tormentor in the struggle. Such bangles are only worn by the Bedouin -women." - -That is the reason why the legionnaire has come to look upon the Arab -woman as the incarnation of the Devil. I have already recorded the -story of the soldier with the skull tattooed on his forehead, who -showed me a tobacco-pouch made out of a woman's breast.... - - * * * * * - -As an example of unnecessary, quite unjustifiable brutality I will tell -you what I had to suffer personally during the manoeuvre march. -Whether freezing under the thin blanket in the cold icy nights in that -climate of quickly changing temperatures was the cause, or the bad -water, or the physical over-exertion of the marches, at any rate I -suffered from tormenting pains in the stomach. Every few minutes during -the march I got cramps and could only painfully drag myself along, -doubled up like a worm. When we got to camp my strength was done. I -went to the doctor's tent accompanied by the "caporal du jour" with the -sick list. The doctor, an army surgeon, whose name I unfortunately have -forgotten, pulled the book angrily out of the corporal's hand, and -roared at him: - -"On the march there are no sick men. Your company ought to know that." - -The corporal shrugged his shoulders. "By order of the captain!" he said -laconically. - -Now the doctor turned to me. - -"What's wrong?" - -I briefly described the cramps in my stomach, and emphasised that I -only wished to ask for something to relieve the pain, an opiate, -perhaps, and that I intended to continue my duties. - -He looked at me for a moment, and then said contemptuously: - -"What do you know about opiates? To judge from your accent you are an -Englishman." - -"No, monsieur le docteur, a German." - -"Well, I will tell you something. We know these little tricks. All the -same if you're English, German or Hottentot, I take you to be quite a -common simulator. I shall give you a certificate of being -'non-malade'--not sick. Non-malade, corporal." - -I was crushed. Astonishment fought with anger. At the very moment when -the doctor was speaking to me I was almost doubled up with pain. "Not -sick!" That meant not only the loss of an opiate, but also heavy -punishment. Any one who is declared by the doctor as "not sick" is at -once held guilty of simulation, and punished with the usual four days' -imprisonment. - -I saluted and said: - -"Non-malade, monsieur le docteur? Without any examination?" - -"Va-t-en!" roared the surgeon. "Get out of this." - -The corporal shook his head as we went through the camp, and advised me -to be patient. He believed that I was in pain, and he knew that that -"pig of a doctor" had already sent many a man to his doom. But a -complaint would only make matters worse, he said. I did not answer and -thought of the coming night. I should be tied to a peg in front of the -watch-tent, and would be obliged to lie on the bare ground in the icy -cold without any covering because I had been imprudent enough to ask -for a little medicine. Maddening anger arose within me. When the -corporal had made his report, my captain sent for me: - -"You have not been punished so far?" - -"No." - -"What is the reason of your simulating?" - -Then I lost control over myself, and in a fit of excitement hurled -reproaches and accusations at the officer. The doctor was a fool and a -disgrace to his profession. His diagnosis was an infamous and -deliberate lie, and it was a disgrace that such people held authority. -I do not remember everything I yelled out then, but it was a nice -collection of the choicest epithets--rank insubordination! At length my -attack of mad fury ended with my demanding to be taken before the -commander of the regiment, and I threatened (this must have been very -ridiculous) to complain to the French Minister of War. - -The captain listened to me quietly and said: - -"I believe that you have been badly treated. I will write a letter for -you to the assistant surgeon, who will give you medicine. I should not -advise you to send in a complaint to the regiment." - -Then after a pause: - -"What do you really expect? What do you want? We are in the Legion. You -are a legionnaire--don't forget that again, legionnaire!" - -If I had not in my complete loss of self-control ventured to air my -opinions in language unheard of in the Legion, I should very likely -have left the ominous peg in front of the guard-tent as a dead man. - -Thanks to the opium pills of the assistant surgeon I was able, however, -to march the next day with the others, but not without exerting every -spark of my will-power. The time from one milestone to the other seemed -endless. The expectation of the five minutes' rest at the fifth -milestone was the power that drove me forward. I counted my steps in -order to make me forget the pain in the mechanical occupation of -counting. One hundred and twenty steps represented one hundred metres; -when I had counted ten times one hundred and twenty, we had covered a -kilometre, the fifth part of the road to rest.... - -At last we reached our paradise, the few minutes of exhausted rest. And -then the torment began afresh.... - -The manoeuvres in a desert covered with peculiarly sharp stones, -three hundred kilometres south of Sidi-bel-Abbes, occupied exactly -eight hours, and from the standpoint of the Legion they were -superfluous and consequently useless. The development of the -firing-line, the skilled search for cover, the rush of the bayonet -attack, the understanding of all the orders, the complete discipline -under fire, are things which, in the never-ending practical military -training of this fighting regiment, become part and parcel of the -legionnaire's flesh and blood. The closing manoeuvre was (I heard our -captain discussing these matters with Lieutenant Garde) nothing more -than a small private entertainment on the part of our colonel, who -wished to show off with his regiment; a military amateur dramatic -performance. On the other hand, the commander-general had said to his -adjutant that it was a great pleasure to him to give his legionnaires -an "airing." The regiment had already idled about barracks for six -months, and might in the end forget that its real home was amongst the -sand of the desert, and that it had no other object in life than to -march, march a lot, to go on marching. - -The legionnaires knew this fad of the general's well enough, and never -called him anything else but the "marching pig." The fat sergeant of -our first "peloton" used to say, with great lack of respect: - -"As soon as I see the fellow I feel tired...." - -When the general was still colonel and in command of the first -regiment, he once met a drunken legionnaire in one of the side streets -of Sidi-bel-Abbes. The man, only just capable of saluting, got the mad -idea to address his colonel. - -"Eh, mon colonel," he stammered, "I am still very thirsty. Ten sous, -mon colonel." - -The colonel treated him to a stony stare. - -This look out of the hard eyes turned the legionnaire sober in a -moment, and a brilliant idea struck him. - -"You know I am the best marcher in my company, mon colonel." - -At this the colonel smiled and gave him a five-franc piece. - -It is these little anecdotes and the rough jokes in the jargon of the -Legion that are typical of the great weight laid on the marching -performances in the Foreign Legion, without regard to the wear and tear -of the human machine, without consideration of the many lives that are -lost. - -Even General de Negrier, the only commander that the Legion loved -because he loved the Legion and knew how to come into personal touch -with each legionnaire, knew no mercy in the matter of marching. When he -was commander of the Foreign Legion he did everything in his power for -his troops. Each legionnaire was allowed to come to him with his -personal affairs, every wounded man was a hero in his eyes, a brave -man, for whom he could not do enough. But when he saw an exhausted -legionnaire stumble out of the ranks and collapse during the terrible -marches in Madagascar, the expression in his face became hard and -pitiless. That was a grievous crime in his eyes. Then he would cry out -the three words that have since become a proverb of the Legion: - -"March or die!" - -Marches which no European commander would attempt are nothing out of -the common; they are the basis on which the Foreign Legion has won its -laurels. But they are also the foundation for illness, decline, and -death. - -In each of these marches is embodied the principle of absolute -disregard for human life. The possibility of such disregard is one of -the chief advantages of the Foreign Legion in the eyes of the -authorities. From a military point of view the marches of the Legion -are splendid, a triumph of training and discipline; from a humane -standpoint they are the height of unprincipled exploitation. No New -York Jewish clothes-dealer, who keeps hundreds of people at starvation -wages at the sewing-machines, does such a splendid piece of business as -"la Legion," which for a mere nothing saps the life from thousands of -human creatures. It is not the cruelties of the penal battalion, not -the brutality of punishments, not the poor devils who for some mere -trifle are shot under martial law, that illustrate best the horrors of -the Legion system. It is the marches that do this; the marches of the -Foreign Legion condemn the system of the Foreign Legion! - -Our manoeuvre march of 600 kilometres occupied sixteen days. On the -stages in the far south the rations consisted almost entirely of rice, -and to the hardships of the daily 40 kilometres the pangs of hunger -were added. In spite of that the distance daily covered remained the -same. - -I still suffered from pains in my stomach. To-day it is a puzzle to me -how I managed to march 300 kilometres in this condition in the burning -sun and to stand the cold during the nights. But others were no better -off. They marched with open wounds in their feet; with blisters between -neck and shoulder-blades, where the straps of the heavy knapsack -pressed; with eyes inflamed by the sun; with severe bronchial troubles; -with bleeding and festering sores on their thighs. Many limped, and -most marched bent wellnigh double, sunk together--a miserable, pitiful -sight. Surly, silent, raging bitterness pictured in the hard lines of -the face and in the tired eyes, we stamped onwards. The only words -heard were curses. - -Our nerves were strained to bursting-point. Over the whole troop lay -the strain of over-exertion, bodily and mental nerve-sickness. The -Foreign Legion has manufactured a special expression of its own for -this mental state--"Cafard." - -The "cafard" reigned. The "cafard" of the Foreign Legion, a near -relative to tropical madness, is a collective name for all the -inconceivable stupidities, excesses and crimes which tormented nerves -can commit. The English language has no word for this condition. In -"cafard" murder hides, and suicide and mutiny; it means self-mutilation -and planless flight out into the desert; it is the height of madness -and the depth of despair. - -Many nights we were roused from sleep by a pandemonium of noise. -Legionnaires--legionnaires in "cafard"--jumped round the tents in the -dim light of the watch-fires, roaring the old Legion song out into the -night. The "song" commenced with abusing the corporal and went on -through the whole scale of charges up to the commander-general--in a -horrible Legion French, of which the chief advantage was its -extraordinary power of detailed expression. No officer was passed over -in this song and each one was carefully mentioned by name, so that -there might be no mistake.... - -The song was painted with insults in rainbow colours. The insinuation -that Captain So-and-So kept up his private harem with the funds of the -company was one of the most harmless, and with the assertion that he -was an old monkey, the register of the regiment commander's sins only -began. - -At the top of their voices the "cafard" madmen shrieked this song of -insubordination out into the still night, until the camp became lively. -With many oaths the sentries tussled with the mad singers, and from out -of the darkness bawling voices roared applause. - -Such things were not taken seriously. The "singers" were bound to pegs -in front of the guard-tent over the night, to give them a chance to -cool down, and they had to join their companies at day-break--to march -on. - -When we got back to Sidi-bel-Abbes, our uniforms and our spirits were -in sad condition.... - - - - -CHAPTER X - -THE MADNESS OF THE FOREIGN LEGION - -An unpleasant occurrence : The last three coppers : The Roumanian Jew -from Berlin : Monsieur Viaisse : The Legion's atmosphere : The Cafard -demoniacs : Bismarck's double : Kruegerle's whim : The madness of -Legionnaire Bauer : Brutal humour : A tragedy - - -In the interval between the terrible exertions of the great manoeuvre -march and a period of hard work in the sewers of the Arab prison of -Sidi-bel-Abbes, something I had long been dreading occurred. Even by -changing my few gold pieces into the smallest of coppers, I could not -spin them out eternally. One fine day the sum of my riches consisted of -three thick, round copper pieces. Although big and heavy, they were not -worth more than a few cents. - -I lay stretched out on my bed, tired and vexed. Smith, who, being a -bugler, was not obliged to waste his strength in cleaning Arab sewers, -was chaffing me. He thought it a great joke to inquire with friendly -solicitude about the unpleasant details of my work. - -I did not like his raillery. Wishing for revenge, I remembered with -grim humour that the state of my finances would be of a certain -interest to my friend Smith. - -"Hallo, bugler," said I. - -Smith, lounging on his bed, muttered something about privileged sons of -the Prophet--and inquired if the Arab convicts had been satisfied with -my work? - -"Bugler, I've no more money!" I said. - -He jumped up from his bed, looking at me aghast. - -"What d'you say?" - -"My money is finished." - -Smith's face grew long. - -He was evidently thinking of the countless casks of wine lying stored -in Sidi-bel-Abbes.... All at once his face cleared. He had found a way -out of the difficulty. - -"Send for some more!" he advised. - -I shook my head. - -"Nonsense," said the bugler, with the happy confidence of the Legion. -"They'll send you some, a legionnaire always gets something sent him. -Shall I help you to write a real, nice, touching letter, Dutchy?" - -Again I shook my head. But the bugler would not let me off so easily. -Going through the different grades of relationship, he inquired as to -my connections. When I declared with intentional spitefulness that they -were all as poor as church mice, he swore a little in Arabic and -thoughtfully repeated a chapter of the Koran, treating of the duties of -friendship. A little inspired by this, he asked for a whole hour about -my former friends. I told him that they were either dead or on the -point of starvation. The bugler thought this ridiculous, but with much -tact did not continue the subject, coming, no doubt, to the conclusion -that I had either killed somebody or robbed a bank in good old Germany. -Nothing but that could keep a legionnaire from writing begging letters! - -I let the philosopher keep his opinion. - -After thinking deeply for a time, he muttered nothing but a resigned, -"C'est la Legion." - -After a while he asked: "And is there really nothing left?" - -Without saying a word, I pulled out my three copper pieces. - -Then a slight smile spread over his face. "Do you know, we'll buy drink -with that," he said softly. As we went down the stairs to the canteen, -he wisely proposed buying two half-bottles instead of a whole one, for -the half-bottles were always filled three-quarters full by Madame la -Cantiniere. In this way we got the fullest measure possible for the -three coppers. - -My friend the bugler emptied the bottle with great respect, till not a -drop was left. Then he became sad again, but said in a comforting way: - -"Inschallah--and if we haven't any money, sonny, then we've got none. -But if I were you, I should after all write to somebody for a little -brass----" - -Only now, in my utter destitution, did I really recognise my position. -The few pieces of silver I had still had in my possession, which in -former times would just have been sufficient for a few theatre tickets -or a few hundred cigarettes, had, in the land of Sidi-bel-Abbes, been a -fortune, and had saved me from much wearisome, petty work. Thanks to -them, I had been able, after long marches or heavy fatigue duty, to go -straight into town without having to bother about polishing and -washing. The smallest coin could purchase release from these -burdens--now all this was at an end. For hours after I came off duty, -I, like the others, stood at the wash-tub, or tediously polished my -leather-work. - -My horizon had narrowed; now it only encircled the drill-ground, -barrack-yard, and my bunk in the Legion's quarters. I spent hours lying -on my bed and staring at the whitewashed wall opposite, with the long -shelf on which the knapsacks were packed. My interests were now quite -taken up by all the petty, trifling considerations of the Legion. I -quarrelled with the others whether it were really my turn to fetch -fresh water in the big earthenware jug; I disputed the highly important -matter of sweeping underneath my bed, and it was a question of vital -interest to me whether I was ordered to scrub the bench or the large -table at the great Saturday cleaning.... The bench was so much easier -to do. - -The days all passed in the same monotonous manner. The grey sameness -tired the brain and made one indifferent to the little considerations -and small services that people should render to each other when living -such a hard life, crowded into so small a space. Everywhere the worst -side of human nature showed itself, and even the greatest fool was soon -clever enough to find out the bad points of the man who worked beside -him by day and slept next to him at night. Petty malice, ill-natured -gossip, ridiculous intrigues formed the atmosphere of the Legion. - -I learnt to know a great deal about human nature, and what I learnt was -not inspiriting. With the exception of jolly Herr von Rader, Abramovici -was the only man I knew who had a spark of humour left in him. He was -the queerest character in the room. He declared he was a Roumanian, but -only spoke German, and that with a terrible Berlin accent, which was, -to say the least, very strange in a Roumanian. When questioned as to -his religion, he told the corporal that he was a "pork-eating" Jew. I -suppose he meant that he had no delicate convictions. - -The man was tall and very thin and appeared to be made of india-rubber. -His long neck was surmounted by a head like that of a bird of prey, -continually turning from side to side so as not to miss an opportunity -of stealing something from his comrades. He had a vile mouth under his -enormous nose. In a whining tone he swore all day long at providence in -general and the Legion in particular. Nobody could resist his -volubility and he was the first, the last, and the only legionnaire who -ever succeeded in never doing any work. - -The explanation of his French nickname, "Viaisse," was that the -india-rubber man repeated the Yiddish phrase of lament, "Wie haisst!" -about ten times in one sentence. Once when he made a complaint about -something or other to the captain, the latter had thrown up his hands -in despair and called out, "Viaisse, viaisse, sacre nom de Dieu! -toujours viaisse--what does the fellow want?" The whole regiment -laughed at "Monsieur Viaisse"; he was never called by his real name, -Abramovici, but officers and corporals called to him: "Eh, Viaisse, -come here!" He never worked. He was only saved from punishment by his -inherent gift of humour. He was very tall, his arms nearly reaching to -the ground. If one of his superiors ever ventured to give him any work -to do, the scraggy "india-rubber man" appeared to personify a whole -Ghetto. His eyes grew large and staring, the nose purple, and the head -moved backwards and forwards like a pendulum. - -Then Viaisse took a deep breath, and a mad flow of words poured from -his vile mouth, while the long arms, with the outspread claw-like -fingers, waved frantically in the air. - -"... Wie haisst! nom de Dieu, de bon Dieu de la Legion--damn me, why -should I work myself to death? I've had to drill the whole forenoon and -have got nix to eat but a poor soup. I'm a stricken man and will have -to get some extra food if I am not to fall down dead like a dog, you -jewel of a sergeant. Wie haisst! I am a ruined man if I don't get some -food at once. Well?" - -It is impossible to repeat it all. Words fail me when I try to -reproduce my friend Abramovici's grand flow of language. In one respect -he was indeed a friend to me; no one ever made me laugh as much as he -did. On the day of his arrival with the depot-train from Oran, I -happened to hear when the sergeant of the company for the first time -ordered him to do some work. Abramovici nearly got a fit at this -unheard-of demand. His arms waved frantically in the air like a -windmill, and wild words flowed from his mouth. - -The poor sergeant wished to put in a word sideways. He wished to give a -quiet command, he wanted to get furious. But he could not. He could -only see with numb astonishment the lurid red nose, he turned away to -get out of the reach of the "windmill arms," and at last fell down on -the nearest bed with a horrible Arab oath, and laughed as he had never -laughed before in his life. When he at last recovered his breath again, -he said in broken German: "Oh, Gott in Himmel, cet homme la, zu viel -sprechen.--Talks too much." - -But Abramovici went on jabbering, until at last his harangue ended in -laments to the God of his Fathers. - -This was the way he always got off--one so seldom hears a laugh down -there that Monsieur Viaisse was highly appreciated by officers and men. - -He called me his friend. He began our friendship with the conventional -question: - -"Wie haisst! will you give me a cigarette?" - -Many a cigarette the Roumanian Jew from Berlin got from me, as long as -there was silver in my pocket. In return he assured me of his high -esteem, and when longing for a smoke called me "Herr Baron." When with -the silver pieces the cigarettes came to an end, our friendship -suffered a little in consequence. - -I myself lived in a state of continual irritation. The least trifle put -me into such a rage that I can hardly credit it to-day. Often enough I -would tear down my "paquetage" from the shelf, destroying what had been -wearisome work, just because some trousers or jacket did not seem to be -folded correctly. It had been nothing else but "cafard" when I had -roared at the captain because the doctor refused to give me an opiate -on the march--it was exactly the same "cafard" in a milder form when I -roared at this or that comrade just because he was in my way when I was -busy polishing. My vexation, my irritability, my brooding was the -madness of the Foreign Legion. - -No legionnaire escapes from it. - -The rest of my comrades in the room all had at different times the -"cafard" more or less seriously.... Crowded together like horses in a -bad stable the men became dangerous. They fought over the quarter of a -litre of the Legion wine that was apportioned to us every second day, -and watched with ridiculous suspicion that the next man did not get -more than he did; one quarrelled over a piece of bread; one took one's -neighbour for a thief who wanted to steal a bit of black wax for -leather polishing. If one man got more work to do than his neighbour, -he cried murder and roared out about protection, and favouritism, and -vicious preference. - -This was the atmosphere in which the Legion whims were developed. It -was really strange how many of the legionnaires had a screw loose, -often only harmless peculiarities, but which could increase to madness. - -All idiocy in the Legion is called "cafard." A legionnaire is gloomy, -sitting sullenly on his bed for hours, speaking to no one. If you ask -him what is the matter, he will answer with a gross insult. He sits -thinking all the time and does the queerest things. He has the -"cafard."... - -His madness may turn into a senseless explosion or fit of fury; men -suffering from "cafard" will run a bayonet through their comrade's -body, without any reason, without any outward cause. Sometimes they -rush out into the desert, sometimes they tear every piece of their -outfit into rags, just to vex themselves and others thoroughly. - -The "cafard" is at its worst in the hot season when the sun burns down -relentlessly from the cloudless, deep blue sky, with the strange -greenish colouring of the horizon peculiar to Algeria. Then the -barrack-yard of the Foreign Legion lies deserted. It is so hot that the -stones on the yellow clayey ground seem to move in the glimmering -overheated air. The legionnaire sentries wear the flowing white -neck-protector, and have stuffed wet cloths into their kepis. - -In the soldiers' quarters the legionnaires lie on their mattresses and -take their siesta, the strictly prescribed rest from 11 A.M. until 3 -P.M. The white man is a useless object in the sun-blaze of the hot -season. In the infernal heat of the soldiers' rooms the "cafard" has -often been the cause of great disaster. It has often happened that -during the siesta legionnaires have suddenly jumped out of the window, -three stories high, without any outward cause whatever. - -Once (very likely when affected with "cafard") I wrote down during the -siesta a description of what our men's room looked like. These few -lines are the only thing I ever wrote in the Legion: - -"I lay on my bed half naked. The room was as hot as a stove, filled -with the stench of perspiration. A brilliant strip of sunlight played -through the long room from window to window. Oh, the heat, the heat. -Even the walls felt hot. In the bare, whitewashed room the men lay -groaning on their beds in all kinds of possible and impossible -positions. Some were swearing, others quarrelling--nothing brings on -the "cafard" so quickly as physical suffering. Two Spaniards were -quarrelling in the loud gesticulating manner of their race; a German in -the next bed had fallen asleep, and was muttering words of German in -his dream. He was dreaming of his mother. In the other corner of the -room a Frenchman was shouting frantically to some one to give him a -brush--his own brush was lost. His bed neighbour hummed a marching -song, half in Arabic, half in French, always with the same refrain: - - "'Si le caporal savait ca, il dirait: Nom de Dieu.' - -"Another man slowly and automatically rubbed his leather straps, a -third one informed everybody that the sergeant was a rogue and was -working him to death. Here the German awoke. Disturbed in his sleep he -yelled out: 'Shut up you beggars.' And the Frenchmen and Spaniards -began to curse on hearing German words. - -"'Monsieur le Caporal'[4] sat up slowly and tiredly and, leaning on his -elbow, said in a low tone of voice: - - [4] "Monsieur le Caporal" was Corporal Wassermann's nickname, - because in the eyes of the legionnaires he was far too - particular in his manners and language when giving orders. - -"'A little silence, please.' - -"The Spaniards laughed and a Frenchman said under his breath, the -damned 'casque a pique,' meaning the Prussian helmet, might leave -honest legionnaires in peace during siesta. - -"The corporal did not move. In his quiet even tone he went on speaking: -'Silence. You all know that during siesta all noise is forbidden. -Legrand, for using the epithet "casque a pique," I punish you with two -days' barrack arrest. You are not serving in a French line regiment, -but in the Foreign Legion. You understand, do you not, that in the -Foreign Legion no man is taxed with his nationality. And in every -respect it is very unwise to vex your corporal. Ca y est.' - -"At that the legionnaire laughed and quiet reigned once more. - -"My God, the heat was terrible. Then all at once a slashing, metallic -sound. One of the Spaniards had pulled down the long bayonet that -always hangs over a legionnaire's bed, and was in the act of assaulting -his countryman and comrade. The corporal sprang between the two and -sent one flying to the right, the other to the left. In a second the -whole place was in an uproar. The two Spaniards threw themselves upon -each other, anxious to kill each other. The other legionnaires laughed -and howled out through it all.... - -"At last the signal, 'Debout, legionnaires, debout!' 'Up, up!' sounded -down in the yard. The siesta was at an end." - -This is what I wrote while lying half naked in my bed, groaning at the -heat. The description has the advantage of the impressions of the -moment. This was what happened when the "cafard" was at its "best." - -Then again whole numbers of soldiers are affected by it in the same -way. The legionnaires of half a company would put their heads together, -planning some act of desperation. One time it would be mutiny en masse, -at another time desertion in a body. This madness is well known -wherever a company of legionnaires is stationed. In some kind of form -it is always present. It is the cause of the horrible tattooing, of -drinking and brawling; it is the reason for that peculiar longing for -continual change, that restlessness typical of the Foreign Legion. - -The legionnaires are themselves not aware what influence the "cafard" -has on them. When an old legionnaire says grumpily, "J'ai le cafard," -he is just telling his neighbours to keep clear of him, that he has a -bad fit of the blues, that it is advisable for his comrades to leave -him alone. He has no idea that a hidden power, like unto madness, is -making him act in such a manner, he only believes himself to be in a -bad humour. But the bad humour rises and increases, often driving him -to murder, more often to suicide. The legionnaire cannot foresee the -effects of the "cafard." The typical "cafard demoniacs," the old grumpy -fellows who do their duty like machines and at other times hardly speak -at all, are instinctively feared, as if their comrades knew that at any -moment the least trifle could lead to an outbreak of the dormant -madness. - -I have witnessed such an explosion (that is the proper term for it). We -had a man in our company who had served for many years in the Legion. -He was a Frenchman and had worn the Legion's uniform for more than ten -years. He got out of our way whenever he could, and when his duties -were over, slunk away into lonely corners of the barrack-yard. Every -fifth day he left the barracks, on pay-day, to return reeling, -evidently drunk, just before evening muster. He never was rowdy, but -silent as usual, he threw himself upon his bed. Where he went to, where -he bought his wine, with whom he drank it, nobody knew. - -One pay-day, when the half of our company was on guard-duty, he for -once came back too late. The barrack-gates had long been closed; Smith -and I were still sitting on the bench in front of the guard-room, the -sergeant and the other legionnaires were lying inside on their bunks. -All at once the sentry at the gate called the officer on duty with the -laconic report: - -"Sergeant--la porte!" - -The gate! Swearing, the man came with his keys. Outside stood the -grumpy old legionnaire, swaying from side to side and his kepi at the -back of his head. - -"Bertillon?" the sergeant said, unlocking the gate. "You ---- old pig, -you ought to know by this time when to come home." - -Bertillon staggered in and remained standing in front of the sergeant. - -"Be off with you and get into your quarters!" he commanded. "You can be -jolly glad that your own company is on guard duty, else you would have -been locked up at once. Allez--schieb' los!" - -The old legionnaire stared at the sergeant. Suddenly, without saying a -word, he hit him right in the face with his fist. - -"Aux armes!" the reeling sergeant yelled. Bertillon had pulled out his -bayonet and was slashing and hitting at every one, roaring like a wild -beast. A terrible tussle ensued. We were twelve to one, but it took us -more than a quarter of an hour to get the upper hand of the "cafard" -madman, and every one had been more or less wounded by his bayonet. At -length we contrived to throw blankets over his head, and strapping him -up like a parcel, we threw him into the prison. - -On opening the cell the next morning he was found dead. At the -post-mortem examination the army surgeon stated that the bursting of an -artery in the brain had been the cause of death. - -These are the worst cases of "cafard." - -Generally the peculiar malady of the Foreign Legion shows itself in all -kinds of peculiar whims. Smith's comical reciting of the Koran chapters -was such a whim. Many developed some kind of fixed idea. - -The cook of my company was an old legionnaire who had served in the -Legion for fifteen years and was soon to be pensioned off; his fixed -idea was that he was Bismarck's double. His name was Schlesinger. Like -the German Prime Minister, he had the stature of a giant, and in his -heavy face with the bald head, in the sharp eyes, there certainly was a -slight resemblance to the features of the "man of iron." The Legion, -being good-natured and having a great sense of humour, did old -Schlesinger the favour of never calling him anything else but -"Bismarck." - -Herr von Rader was the first one to draw my attention to him. He had -heard of the cook's peculiarity and ... forthwith rushed to the -kitchen. He lounged about the door till the cook, getting suspicious, -came to see if the intruder intended stealing. Hardly had von Rader -seen him, when he called out in astonishment: "Good gracious! that -surely must be Bismarck!" - -The cook drew himself up majestically and smiled condescendingly. - -"Such a likeness!" in a surprised voice from von Rader. - -"Very like--n'est-ce pas?" said Schlesinger, highly flattered. - -"Really wonderful! You surely must be a relation of the Bismarck -family?" - -"That may be," nodded the cook, very much pleased. This was quite a new -idea. It had never entered his head that he might be related to -Bismarck. - -"You're certainly a relation," said von Rader in a tone of conviction, -"an illegitimate." - -"Tres possible--tres possible," the cook murmured, proud and happy. -"Are you a young soldier?" he asked the man who had put the wonderful -idea into his poor old legionnaire's head. - -"That's so," groaned von Rader. "I am like you, and have once been -something better. My father" (von Rader lowered his voice to a whisper -as if he were disclosing the greatest secret), "my father was a count!" - -Bismarck was much impressed by his announcement. - -"And now I must starve in the Legion," added von Rader sadly. - -"Pas ca," said Schlesinger, and, disappearing into the kitchen, he -returned with a large piece of roast pork. "Tiens, camarade. To-morrow -we will talk again about--about our ancestors. Mais--say nothing." - -"Nothing," assured von Rader, putting his finger to his lips. - -From that day the pseudo-Bismarck and the pseudo-count were seen -together almost daily, and von Rader always had a piece of meat in his -knapsack, when we had to eat dry bread in the drill pause. - -If any one called the cook "Schlesinger" he was deeply offended and did -not answer; even the officers called him Bismarck. - -There was another legionnaire I cannot forget--Little Kruegerle. His -whim was--to steal grapes. A very funny idea, for Kruegerle never ate -grapes himself; he did not like them. With great trouble he got them -into the barracks and then gave them away. - -His one idea was to steal the grapes. - -This was his cafard, his special rage against the possessors of -vineyards. But his cafard had its own tale.... - -Grapes were worth very little in Algeria, but when every year at the -grape harvest three thousand legionnaires strolled in the evenings -along the paths beside the vineyards, when each legionnaire ate about -five pounds of grapes, taking another ten pounds under his cloak--then -the Spanish grape-farmers grew angry. They sent a deputation to the -colonel, declaring that his legionnaires were worse than a -locust-plague. The colonel abused them all and sent out a command that -all who transgressed again would be punished. The legionnaires -laughed--were a little more careful, but stole quite as many grapes as -formerly. Seeing that it would not do like this, the Spaniards engaged -Arabs, gave them small-shot guns and told them not to spare the -offenders. The following morning the army surgeon was much astonished, -on going his daily round, to find sixty-five legionnaires wounded by -small shot. - -The extraction of all the small shot took so much time that he got -furious and went to the colonel and complained. The latter, having an -idea what was the matter, examined the "invalids," who promptly told a -great story of having been suddenly attacked by Arabs. The colonel -laughed and ordered them all to be locked up for four weeks on bread -and water. - -Now the Spaniards were left in peace, because the grapes were not worth -while being shot and locked up for, the legionnaires said sadly. - -But from this time dated little Kruegerle's cafard. Every day he went -out to steal grapes. With the greatest patience and cunning he crawled -about in the vineyards and stole grapes. Once he was shot and ran right -back to the barracks and into the soldiers' room. Five minutes later, -all the fifteen men there were busily occupied in digging the countless -shot out of their comrade's back--with pocket-knives! - -Kruegerle underwent the operation with more or less tranquillity--but it -was worth suffering a little; if he had gone to the surgeon, four weeks -of cellule arrest would have been his lot. - -He swore great oaths--but went stealing grapes again the following day. - - * * * * * - -The germ of madness, of tragedy, always lies hidden in the cafard. I -was a witness of the following tragedy. - -In our room in the corner by the window an Austrian had his bed. His -name was Bauer. He had joined the company with a new batch of recruits, -shortly after I did, in good health, fresh and curious like all the -other recruits: an average man, who did not easily learn the French -words of command, but did his work conscientiously. Week by week he got -quieter. Stupidly he did his work and spoke to nobody. In his free time -he sat on his bed moodily staring in front of him. Now and then he -would be punished for neglecting his uniform, but this did not seem to -make any impression on him at all. He returned from prison as moody as -before. Nobody took any notice of him. All at once the poor quiet -creature became the centre of attraction, an object of ridicule and -enmity, and for weeks the gossip of the Legion's quarters. - -Suddenly Bauer was attacked by a most ravenous appetite. If possible he -was quieter than formerly; but when the midday soup appeared, he fell -over it like a wild animal, devouring it greedily, and greedily he -watched us while we were eating. When we had finished, he crept up to -the table, examining the empty dishes in the hope of finding a few -drops left. After this he would rush down to the kitchen to the old -cook to beg some leavings from him. The other men in the room were so -brutalised by their own misfortunes in life that they only looked upon -this poor devil as a clown to serve for their amusement. - -They threw pieces of bread into corners, and yelled with pleasure when -Bauer crawled about on all-fours under the beds to look for the coveted -morsel. They poured petroleum into his soup, and were wild with delight -when the poor fellow nevertheless emptied the dish greedily. - -Day by day Bauer grew worse. From the other soldiers' quarters, even -from the other companies, the legionnaires came at soup-time to our -room to inspect the prodigy. All the time he sat crouching on his bed, -smiling vacantly and gobbling down whatever he could get. He would gnaw -at the dry bone held out to him by a legionnaire with the same grin as -he would chew a piece of hard leather given to him by another man. It -was the beginning of insanity.... - -Soon the whole regiment was talking about the man with the unappeasable -appetite. If any one wished to have a joke, they brought the glutton a -dry crust or a piece of hard Legion biscuit, just to watch him devour -it. For weeks these scenes occurred, without the authorities thinking -it necessary to interfere. - -The end came suddenly. One day we only found half-chewed crusts on our -table instead of the usual daily portion of bread. Bauer had stolen -away from his work and eaten our rations! - -The legionnaires threw themselves upon him--where their own comforts -were concerned it was no joking matter. One of them struck the poor -devil, who, biting and scratching and hitting at every one, shrieked -like a madman. The watch was roused, and the poor fellow, chained hand -and foot, was carried across to the infirmary. - -Three days after, the eleventh company conducted a small black cart to -the grave-yard of Sidi-bel-Abbes. In the rudely made coffin on the cart -lay the remains of Legionnaire Bauer. In the infirmary he had smashed -his head against the wall.... At the grave the captain said briefly, in -a cold voice: "Recevez les derniers adieux de votre chef et de vos -camarades." - -This was his funeral sermon. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -THE DESERTERS - -The Odyssey of going on pump : Death in the desert : The Legion's -deserters : A disastrous flight in a motor-car : The tragic fate of an -Austrian engineer : In the Ghetto of Sidi-bel-Abbes : The business part -of desertion : Oran and Algiers : The Consulate as a trap : The -financial side of desertion : One hundred kilometres of suffering : -Hamburg steamers : Self-mutilation : Shamming : In the Suez Canal : -Morocco, the wonderland - - -Even Herr von Rader had the cafard--the fever to desert--and his good -humour diminished perceptibly under its influence. In low cunning the -equal of the oldest and craftiest legionnaire, he had quite got the -trick of decorating himself, and certainly got along much better than -most of the other recruits. But, as a veteran on the high road of life, -he had a very highly developed sense of the practical side of human -affairs. To take and not to give had always been his most sacred rule -of life; living without working was for him the acme of human -cleverness. Now, however, Herr von Rader began to reckon out for -himself, with a face that got longer and longer, the Legion's pet -arithmetic example: that he had to do an immense amount of work and got -little or no pay for it. - -He found this very trying. - -"My friend," he said to me once, "I'm off. I just guess I won't bother -you with details, but I'm sorry to have to tell you that this -honourable regiment will have to get on as best it can without me. I'm -going to clear out." - -I warned him and kept telling him that it was utter folly to desert in -this happy-go-lucky way without civilian's clothes and without any -money. - -Herr von Rader merely shook his head: "It's true enough that I've a -large balance of poverty! On the other hand, I've a thundering lot of -impudence--an absolutely immense and overwhelming quantity of -impudence--and I guess, in spite of everything, I'll take that little -pleasure trip and have a look at the neighbourhood. Somewhere round -here there must be a nigger tribe who would consider it an honour when -a chap like me with a real white skin does some swell conjuring for -them. Why, they'll jump at the chance of making me their medicine man. -Anyway, I'm off! If you're a wise man, you'll come too. It'll be fine -enough even if it does not last for long. And I'll tell you a secret: -in the sergeants' room the big service revolver is hanging comfortably -on the wall. I've a sort of an idea that that piece of property will be -off about the same time as me--on French leave! That's a great -consolation for me, quite apart from the fact that I shall be damned -glad to annoy that fool of a sergeant! Won't you come?" - -I declined with thanks. - -Herr von Rader now sought other followers. In every spare moment he -gathered a following from among the young men around his bed. They -lounged about and smoked cigarettes forging their plans for flight. -More than once I went and listened to them and more than once I gave -them a warning, but they were so wrapped up in their idea that all good -advice was quite wasted. They wanted to make a bee-line for the south, -marching only at night and avoiding all houses and villages. Then they -thought of going west and working through into Morocco. One of them had -found an old map of Northern Africa, and on this they had marked out -their route. Their bayonets and the revolver they were going to steal -were to be their weapons. They were not in the least afraid of Arabs or -Moroccans, and about provisions they didn't worry themselves very much, -as Herr von Rader cold-bloodedly pointed out that they were six strong -men and could easily procure the necessaries of life by force. In -reality they were very indifferent as to all these details. The only -idea that they had in their heads was that they would soon have done -with their wretched lives as legionnaires, and roam at large, free men -once more. - -They were thoroughly infected with the fever for desertion, which was -ever to be found in the Legion. Plans for flight and their feasibility -were ever being discussed in whispers, and this formed a part of the -Legion's atmosphere--desertion was always the favourite topic of -conversation in quarters and in the canteen. This was only natural. -There is not a single man in the Legion who does not sooner or later -repent his folly, recognising that it was the maddest thing he ever did -in his life when he signed that ominous contract in the enlistment -bureau. He has to work as he never worked in his life before, and he -has less money in his pocket than in the most needy times of his civil -life. Even if he had been a miserable beggar, a wretched copper had not -such an enormous value in his eyes nor had it been so hard to earn as -in these days of poverty in the Foreign Legion. He is wretchedly poor, -living under the strictest military discipline, working hard and -getting less than nothing out of his life. At first the strangeness of -his surroundings has a certain charm: but the harder he has to work and -the oftener he becomes acquainted with the heavy penalties which no -legionnaire escapes for long, the quicker comes the lust for freedom. - -The idea of flight gradually ripens in him. He talks about it with his -friends; in every spare moment he washes and cleans for the -non-commissioned officers to earn a few coppers, and every evening he -sits with the veterans, with the old grey-haired fellows who have -breathed the air of the Legion so long that they are no use for any -other sort of work, and who, as if under a spell, no matter how often -they have sworn never to don the red trousers again, always come back -again to the Legion. They know Algeria like the palm of their own hand -and gladly sell their priceless wisdom for a litre of canteen wine. But -in this case good advice is not worth much. - -Money is the main necessity for flight. If good intentions counted for -anything in the matter, the percentage of deserters would reach a -fabulous figure; but the poor fellows who go out on foot, without a -penny in their pockets, very seldom get away and are generally brought -back in a few days by the gendarmes. Hunger and thirst almost always -drive them into the Arab villages or to the Spanish peasant settlements -on the main roads, which are so often patrolled that detection is -unavoidable. Then is the wisdom of the old legionnaire a vain thing -indeed--against enemies like hunger and thirst the truant can do -nothing. - -In addition to the lust for freedom the legionnaire has generally got -the cafard: a feeling of hatred for anything connected with the Legion, -the extraordinary impulse which leads him to undertake the maddest and -most hopeless things rather than stay a day longer in the Legion. When -they are as ill as this the poor fellows run off no matter where, -without the slightest consideration or preparation. - -The Legion has coined a special expression for this kind of desertion: -"Going on pump"--in French, "Aller au poump." An extraordinary word of -unknown origin. - -You "go on pump." One evening as we sat in quarters cleaning our -leather equipment, an old legionnaire, an Austrian, suddenly got up. - -"You damned set of fools," he cried, "I'm going out. I'm going on -pump." - -As he spoke he buckled on his bayonet. - -"I hope I'll never see the blasted lot of you again." - -He went out and never returned. - -Several weeks afterwards there was shown to us at roll-call the -photograph of a body that had been horribly maimed. It was the -Austrian. A patrol had found him by the Morocco frontier. The officer -in command, to whose equipment according to regulation a camera -belonged, had taken the photograph. Each company in the Legion got a -copy of this awful picture, in order to identify the corpse. The -regiment has quite a series of these pictures, all showing a man's -naked body, hacked about in the most appalling fashion. This is the -work of the Moroccan brigands, to whom the legionnaire, staggering -hither and thither under the influence of the cafard, is a real source -of joy. His uniform and bayonet are priceless possessions, easily won -with a few sword-strokes. Besides, there is the consideration that -Allah and his prophet reward a pious deed like torturing a dog of a -Christian. - -Hundreds of legionnaires who have started out in cafard have met with -this awful death in the desert, martyred, maimed and tortured. - -In general, however, the legionnaire finds going on pump, this flight -into the desert, this mad rush for freedom without any real goal and -without any sort of preparation, something quite natural that everybody -tries once at any rate in the course of his career. In cafard.... - -As a rule the men desert in little groups, without any equipment but -the uniform they wear and the bayonet that clanks at their side. They -go forth at night, before nine o'clock, while the barrack gates are -still open, and run, under cover of the darkness, madly through the -sandy vineyards. They are miserably cold in the chilly African night, -and the pangs of hunger soon assail them. But they keep going on: they -are accustomed to accomplish miracles of marching even when loaded with -the Legion's heavy baggage; without it they cover enormous distances. -Five minutes at the double with that long cat-like stride of the Legion -which never tires those who have once got the knack of it--and then -five minutes' marching. They go on like this without stopping all -through the night, and in the morning the truants are a good sixty -kilometres from the garrison. Arriving at some lonely farm or other in -the grey of the morning, they obtain a crust of bread and a sip of -wine. It is very seldom the sympathetic heart of the Spaniard that -takes pity on them: no, it is more often the bayonets which advise him -to be obliging and conciliatory. In the daytime the poumpistes hide -among the rocks or bury themselves in a deep hole in the sand. When -night comes on they start on their way once more, ever southwards, -keeping their bearings by the stars as they have learnt to do in the -Legion--for a very different purpose it is true. When they hear the -sound of horses' hoofs they take cover in deadly terror and lie for -hours, still as mice, until the patrol has long passed out of sight -below the horizon. Thus the days pass by. Bands of energetic and -enterprising runaways often terrorise the Arabs in the lonely -settlements for weeks on end, until the oppressed ones send for help -and a fight results in which the deserters are of course sadly worsted. - -Desperate fellows "on pump," who are determined to reach Morocco at any -price, sometimes succeed in getting hold of a rifle. They have then a -weapon to defend themselves against the brigands. They cannot take -their own rifles with them, for with rifles they would never be allowed -to pass the barrack gates. - -A tough old veteran, who knows the frontier, marches with the utmost -care. He knows that there is a triple row of tents, a quarter of a -kilometre apart. One dark night he creeps through. This operation takes -a long time to carry out. The tents, it is true, are a long way apart -from each other, and it seems easy enough to get through. But this is -only at first sight. For every 200 yards there stands a sentry guarding -the line till the next tent is reached. - -The line of tents is almost endless. Were the deserter to attempt to -creep through direct or even in a slanting direction, he could not -possibly avoid being noticed by one of the sentries who are stationed -in a triangular arrangement. But he knows the trick. He creeps through -100 yards from a sentry and then strikes off at an angle of 45 degrees -until he reaches the next row. Then straight on once more and then off -again at an angle.... - -Now he works himself, crawling on his stomach and burying himself in -the sand for hours at a time, up to a tent in the outside line. He -steps silently into the tent, feels about with care--and he is the -possessor of a rifle and a cartridge-belt. Thus armed he has now a -chance of life and of getting safely across Morocco. - - * * * * * - -In most cases, however, after a few days of golden freedom, a freedom -consisting of perpetual marching and ceaseless hunger, the man on pump -meets his fate in the shape of a band of mounted "Goums,"[5] and finds -himself, after a very short space of time, looking down the muzzles of -their revolvers. He then has to go back the same way he came, fastened -by a long chain to one of the Goums' horses, panting and coughing with -the exertion of keeping up with the horse, which he must do if he -doesn't want to be dragged over the sand and stones. Thus he is taken -from station to station till the garrison is reached. If he is lucky -enough not to have lost any part of his equipment and has not been -absent more than a week, he is tried by the regiment, and gets off with -sixty days' cellule--solitary confinement in the dark. If, however, any -part of his uniform is missing, he is tried for theft and desertion by -the court-martial in Oran, which is noted for its Draconic sentences. - - [5] "Goums" is the Legion's name for the Arab gendarmes. - -"Traveaux forces," penal servitude for years, is then his fate--a -penalty which usually means death, for there are very few constitutions -that can stand the terrible life in the penal settlements. - -Rader and his friends were poumpistes of this type. One evening the man -of strong language and never-failing wit was missing when the roll was -called. Several others were reported missing from various rooms, and -the next morning the whole company knew that six Germans had deserted -_en bloc_. - -The sergeant of our section made a list of the uniform and equipment -Herr von Rader had left behind. He cursed, as only a lazy sergeant in -the Legion can curse, his own personal bad luck because the six -deserters, being in his company, now gave him a lot of work and worry. -At the evening roll-call the colour-sergeant appeared in person in our -room and ordered Corporal Wassermann to take good care that no more of -the men under his charge deserted: otherwise he'd make it d----d hot -for him. The captain, however, sent for all the Germans in his company. - -He made us a long speech in the company's bureau: - -We had all served our time in Germany and we ought really to be content -with the life in his company. There was no flogging in the Legion! When -anybody thought he had a ground for complaint he should report himself -at once to the captain. The Legion was a regiment of foreigners, and -one nation was treated in exactly the same way as another: a German -soldier in it had naturally exactly the same rights as every one else. -He would be very sorry if his men took to deserting. It was quite -hopeless to try! A description of the deserters had been telegraphed -long ago to all the stations in Algeria, the police all along the coast -were on the look-out, and in a few days we should see the truants -brought back to the regiment. - -"You only get into trouble when you desert, as it is very heavily -punished!" - -"The whole thing is this," said Smith when we came back into our room. -"The cap'n is champion fencer of France, and thinks he must be always -practising in the fencing saloon! He hasn't the least idea what things -really look like in the company!" - -Even a raw recruit knew much more of what went on in the company than -its leader. The non-commissioned officers took very good care that the -captain did not learn too much.... - -In reality the colour-sergeant and the non-commissioned officers were -all-powerful. The captain was merely what one might call the owner of -the business, who signed the punishment sheets and reports which his -managers laid before him, without bothering his head about details. The -non-coms had the mess-allowance in their hands, put down whatever men -they pleased on the punishment sheet for absolutely nothing at all, and -would very quickly have done to death any one who made a complaint, -even if at first he got his rights by complaining. - -"By the beard of the Prophet," laughed Smith, "I'd like to see what -happened to the chap who made a complaint. Why, the whole bally lot of -non-coms would be down on him in less than no time, and in a couple of -weeks he'd be a Zephyr in the penal battalion. That's what happens when -you complain, Signor Capitano. But he's quite right about deserting is -our champion captain. We do see most of 'em again." - -Then he went over to Rassedin and asked him if he thought that Rader -and the other five poumpistes would get away. Rassedin shook his head -and laughed, making with his thumb and forefinger that counting gesture -which means paying all the world over. - -"No money," he said dryly. - -The other veterans too thought that Rader and the other five were not -the sort of men who would succeed in surmounting the difficulties of a -flight unprovided with money. - -The flight of the six comrades was an inexhaustible topic of -conversation in the company. Smith used to spin one yarn after another -of mad bids for freedom. Two of these histories I shall never forget. - -While Smith was in the second battalion at Saida, there were two -brothers in his company, two Englishmen of good birth. The final and -maddest freak of their mad lives landed them in the Legion. When their -family learnt that they were wearing the Legion's uniform, they did all -they could to procure their freedom. In vain! Petitions to the French -Secretary of War were of no avail, and the English Consul in Algiers -naturally refused to intervene. Finally the two brothers were sent a -large sum of money and they tried their luck at deserting. They were no -farther than Saida station when they were arrested and marched back to -prison. - -As soon as they were free again they made a second attempt at flight -and got as far as Oran. But their descriptions had been telegraphed -there and they were arrested as they were going on board the steamer. -This time they were sent for six months to the penal battalion. - -The poor devils must have written despairing letters home. Their -relations were determined to get them free at any price. With an -English merchant as go-between, they bribed a Levantine, who hired an -automobile and waited days and days by Saida, in the neighbourhood -where the convicts had to work. After long delay the brothers succeeded -in escaping at night from their tent. They reached the appointed -rendezvous in safety, found the Levantine with his motor waiting for -them, and started off as quickly as the sand would allow. The -automobile, however, had attracted notice in Saida, and the military -authorities came at once on the idea that these dauntless deserters had -hit on the unusual method of flight by motor-car. Telegrams flew from -station to station, and the Arab police barricaded a narrow part of the -road a little north of Sidi-bel-Abbes, which passes at this point -through a rocky part of the country, absolutely impassable for -vehicles. - -A short time afterwards the motor came up. The runaways took no notice -of the warnings of the gendarmes who rode to meet them, and crashed at -full speed into the pile of stones. The motor was overturned, the two -deserters being killed immediately. The Levantine was seriously injured -and brought into the hospital at Sidi-bel-Abbes, where he died a few -days later. - -The other story is a really sad one. - -An Austrian engineer had, as a young man, for some reason or other -enlisted in the Foreign Legion. After a while he managed to escape and -worked his way home to Austria again. He must have been a clever -fellow, for he soon gained a distinguished position in his profession. -Fortune smiled upon him. He made a notable invention, which made him a -wealthy man. Ambition led him to send the machine he had invented to -the World's Exhibition in Paris. In the distinguished engineer nobody -would recognise the deserter from the Foreign Legion--at least so he -thought. But cruel fate willed otherwise. Standing by his machine at -the exhibition he was recognised by an officer from his company who was -just then on leave in Paris. - -The officer did his duty as a soldier and had the deserter arrested. At -one blow the man who had worked his way from the depths of poverty to -the top of his profession, who looked upon the days in the Legion as -merely a dark shadow on his life, became once more a legionnaire. A few -days in a Parisian military prison, a few hours' journey by rail in a -prisoners' compartment, the short sea-voyage to Oran, the cruel minutes -before the court-martial--and then perpetual, blunting work in an -Algerian mine, truly a living death. And thus this man had to live for -many a long month, till the horrible climate carried him off.... - - * * * * * - -Flight from the Legion is always a risky and difficult undertaking, -risky since there is always the severest punishment waiting for the -deserter who gets caught. Even the possession of really plentiful means -is no guarantee for a successful flight. There are so many hindrances -to surmount, such a mountain of difficulties to be climbed. - -To begin at the beginning. - -The Ghetto of Sidi-bel-Abbes supplies the clothes. Buying civilian -clothes is the first chapter of a legionnaire's flight, the first part -of his preparations for which the would-be deserter needs not only -money but also a finely developed talent for haggling and bargaining. -To open negotiations is very easy: the legionnaire simply addresses a -passer-by in one of the little alleys and whispers to him that he knows -of some one who would perhaps buy civilian clothes. In one case in a -hundred the passer-by shakes his head and goes his way. In the -ninety-nine other cases he looks pleased, and in just such a whisper -tells the legionnaire to follow him into his house without attracting -attention. Once there, the bargaining begins. Heaps of old clothes are -fetched, until something is found somewhere about the customer's size. -Boots, shirt, collar, hat, and tie are all found. To an honest man of -business the transaction would seem somewhat strange. - -These Ghetto transactions have an underlying principle of their own: -furnish as poor goods as possible at as high a price as you can get! -The buyer is already nervous at the prospect of his flight, so, in -spite of all, he pays an absolutely fabulous price. Fifty francs is -usually the price of an old suit, of which the trousers come, perhaps, -from Germany, the waistcoat from France, and the coat from Italy, and -which would be very dear at ten francs. The "business friend" next -claims a gold piece for allowing the legionnaire to change his clothes -in his house; a further gold piece arranges for the care of his -uniform, which a legionnaire who is at all careful will not be -persuaded so easily to leave in the lurch. For the deserter captured -without his uniform is tried for theft by court-martial, and the -military tribunal in Oran always passes sentence of a long term of -penal servitude. But the man of Israel is willing enough--provided he -gets a gold piece for it--to take care that the uniform and entire -equipment of his customer is safely preserved for the poor regiment. -Neatly bound together the uniform lies idle for a few days. Then, one -dark night, a youth from the Ghetto throws the parcel over the wall of -the barracks. A ticket has been pinned on beforehand, on which the name -and number of the owner has been written so that the gentlemen in the -quarter-master's office needn't cudgel their brains wondering how to -register this parcel from heaven. - -All so considerate! - -The runaway, however, wanders through the alleys of the Jewish quarter -and the streets of Sidi-bel-Abbes, taking great care to avoid -instinctively saluting the officers and non-coms he meets. His money, -with which he bought his civilian clothes, and of which there is still -enough for his railway journey and passage, is a mighty help to him. - -He must not attract notice anywhere; he must bridle his tongue, lest -the curious French which is individual to the Legion betray him, and he -must act the role of the harmless traveller to a nicety. He naturally -cannot begin his journey from the station of Sidi-bel-Abbes, which is -watched by a commando of the Legion's non-commissioned officers day and -night. No, he must go on foot to one of the stations on the way to his -destination; the farther from Sidi-bel-Abbes he is, the less likely he -is to attract attention. So he makes a long night march, keeping a -sharp look-out for the patrols of Arab police. Then comes the railway -journey to a coast town. The only two towns that come in question are -Oran and the town of Algiers, since regular lines of steamers only run -from these two ports. Oran is mostly avoided, because it is so near to -Sidi-bel-Abbes, and because there are so many of the Legion's officers -to be met with there. The journey to Algiers, on the other hand, is -very expensive, and it often happens that the truant's money is -exhausted, and he lands there penniless. In this case German -legionnaires usually go to the German Consulate, but only receive the -stereotyped reply that there is no money at the Consul's disposal "for -purposes like this." - -The Consulate is not only powerless to help them, but, into the -bargain, is one of the best and most efficient mouse-traps a French -gendarme could want. Old legionnaires always give you the same warning: -"For the Lord's sake don't go to the Consul in Algiers." If, in spite -of this, a deserter does go to the Consul, he is merely told that he -cannot possibly gain assistance there. - -And now the trap begins to do its work. The police in Algiers know well -enough that there are a great many escaped legionnaires among the men -who come to the Consulate. When any one comes out looking in the least -bit suspicious, they receive him tenderly and inquire lovingly about -his papers. The deserter is then done for.... - -I should like to know whether the German Consul in Algiers has the -slightest idea that, in all innocence, he has been the ruin of so many -German legionnaires. - -The runaway whose money has been swallowed up by the railway journey -and who cannot pay his passage over sea, must in most cases give -himself up for lost. It is generally only a question of a few days till -he is arrested. A careless word in a wine-shop, a lame excuse when he -seeks work and can show no papers--in short, the whole system of -denunciation which is so flourishing in Algiers very soon hands him -over to the police. - -And even when he has money enough to pay his passage on one of the -Mediterranean lines, and has his ticket safe in his pocket, he is not -yet in safety. Most of the runaways who have succeeded in reaching -Algiers make the mistake of taking a passage on one of the German or -English lines of steamers, and is arrested at the eleventh hour as he -goes on board. It is on the foreign ships that they keep a specially -sharp eye. On the French boats, on the other hand, which ply between -Algiers and Oran, you don't need any papers or even a passport, because -the authorities look upon these boats as an internal French means of -communication. - -The route from Algiers to Tunis is absolutely safe for the deserter. -There, nobody notices him in the enormous rush of the Levantine -traffic, and he needs no passport to cross to an Italian port. But the -expense is enormous. - -Among the legionnaires who desert, the number of those who can escape -in civilian clothes by the comparatively safe way of the railway and -the Mediterranean boats is very small. Travelling costs money.... A -flight over the town of Algiers needs really quite a little -capital--150 francs at least. This is a very low estimate, for the -purchase of clothes alone takes about seventy francs. How few of the -men in the Legion can raise such a sum like this! - -In most cases they are poor devils who have no one in the wide world -who could or would send them a sum of this sort; most of them never had -a franc to their name while they were in the Legion, to say nothing of -a gold coin. Men like this are seldom successful in their flight, even -when they spend months and months in preparation and discuss their -route a hundred times over with the veterans of the Legion. They don't -run blindly into the desert like the poumpistes, who don't really want -more than a few days of runaway freedom. Their way is also to the -coast. In uniform! On foot! - -In these two expressions there is expressed the deserter's whole -difficulty. Although the distance from Sidi-bel-Abbes to the coast is -only about one hundred kilometres, not a very great stretch for a -legionnaire who is accustomed to long marches, it is beset with danger -for every yard of the way. The runaway can be recognised a long way off -by his uniform. True, he only marches by night. But the starlit nights -of Algeria are very bright, and he has to creep from rock to rock and -from hollow to hollow, to avoid being seen by the patrols. By day he -lies motionless in the sand. He suffers hunger and thirst for days on -end, and lives on fruits, which he steals when hunger drives him to -risk discovery. - -When he has reached the coast in safety, the game of hide-and-seek -begins anew. He often lies for days in some little coast town, where -the Mediterranean tramp-steamers touch, concealed in a shed or in some -old boat on the shore, till a ship carrying the German or English flag -comes into port. He swims out to this ship in the middle of the night, -climbs on board, and hides in one of the ship's boats, or in the -coal-bunker. He first makes his appearance when the ship is on the high -seas as a more or less pleasant surprise for the captain. He is now -safe--they can hardly throw him overboard. There are, moreover, a great -many captains who shut their eyes when a runaway of this sort is -discovered, and even if the ship is still lying in port do not give him -up. There are some even who carry their humanity so far as to stand a -certain amount of unpleasantness with the authorities for his sake. - -These are mostly German ships, and above all, ships from Hamburg. -Deserters from the Legion land over and over again in the old Hansa -town, and again and again you may read in the Hamburg daily papers that -deserters have arrived with such and such a ship, and have been taken -charge of by the police authorities. Now and then they go just as they -stand, in their uniform, with bayonet and all the rest of it, to the -paper's offices and tell the worried editor about their life and -sorrows in the Legion.... - -These are those who have had luck; the tiny proportion of penniless -deserters who are successful in their flight. Not freedom but prison -awaits the large majority at the finish of their attempt. The Arab -gendarmes are paid a bonus on the deserters they arrest, which amounts -to many thousand francs a year! - -The regiment is acquainted with many other means of desertion, if by -"desertion" you understand every means by which the deserter can free -himself from work in the Legion. In the terrible heat of summer, when -the difference in temperature between day and night is simply enormous, -sickness, in many a grim form, stalks through Algeria. The drinking -water becomes infected, and typhoid sets in: the legionnaire who is -tired of active service can be pretty sure of a long spell of illness. - -But to make quite certain he helps matters artificially--with an -extraordinary measure in vogue in the Legion: he drinks a mixture of -absinthe and milk. Every veteran in the Legion swears this hellish -drink never fails to bring on an attack of fever! The object of this -suicidal method of desertion is naturally to avoid work in the Legion -by a long spell of sickness--its object is always attained; mostly so -effectively that the man never takes his place on parade again, but -rests for ever in the Legion's cemetery! - -In the same way self-mutilation may be met with: the chopping off of a -finger which renders the legionnaire unfit for active service. Others -simulate illness or madness. This the suspiciousness and brutality of -the doctors in the Legion renders very difficult. Now and then a -legionnaire with a will of iron manages to play the comedy of madness -successfully. - -The means employed are sometimes rather drastic. Some years before I -entered the Legion, a Belgian served in my company who shammed for a -whole year. He dirtied the men's quarters in such a fashion that his -comrades fell upon him and ill-treated him in every possible way, but -he merely answered their curses and reprisals with an inane laugh. -Neither curses nor blows seemed to make the least difference to him. - -This fellow had grit. He played his part as a lunatic, as unpleasant -for himself as well as for others, without ever wavering. They shut him -up, they compelled him to do the hardest work, they brought him into -hospital and wellnigh starved him or tortured him with drugs; he was -confined for weeks in the dark, he was sent to the hospital at Daya and -treated with cold water--all in vain! His method and his smile remained -unchanged! After thirteen months the doctors felt themselves -checkmated, gave up the job as hopeless and certified him mad. The -colonel, purely out of curiosity, sent for the lunatic, who must needs -have an attack of his particular malady in the regimental bureau -itself. - -As soon, however, as he was home again in Belgium, he wrote postcards -to the officers and to several members of his company.... He had foiled -them all and they were the idiots! The most unmitigated ass of them in -his humble opinion was the regimental doctor! If possible the -surgeon-major in the Algerian corps was a bigger fool still! - -Tremendous energy is, however, necessary to bring a sham of this sort -to a successful issue, and cases like this constitute a tiny minority. -The doctors in the Foreign Legion are both clever and suspicious and -the result is that there is always a good dose of Legion's brutality -included in their treatment. All those who reported themselves sick, -and hadn't some outward and visible sign of their ailment to show, were -treated from beginning to end as shams. - -Our medecin-major was an especial terror to the legionnaires. I only -came into personal contact with him twice; the first time was on a -manoeuvre march when he refused me the medicine I wanted, and the -other time was when I was vaccinated. There was an epidemic of -small-pox in Sidi-bel-Abbes, and the whole of the Legion had to be -vaccinated as quickly as possible. We were marched by companies into -the great drill-hall where Monsieur le Major and his assistants were at -work. Such a method of vaccination as this man employed I have never -seen in my life and I have been vaccinated at least a dozen times. I am -acquainted with every method of vaccination, from the gentle -lancet-prick employed in Germany to the method in use in America, where -they pare away the skin with a piece of ivory. As our company marched -past the assembled doctors in Indian file I saw to my astonishment that -the men were bleeding severely. When my turn came I flinched -involuntarily--the doctor drove the lancet three times so forcibly into -my upper arm that a regular fountain of blood spurted out. - -It was pure brutality. Nothing more or less. This was typical of the -man. It was his custom, the first time a man reported himself ill, to -send him back to his company and give him three days' arrest for -shamming. If the fellow appeared again he tried the effect of emetics -followed by a long period of starvation. The only time he was supposed -to be reasonable was when he saw symptoms of typhoid, which was his -special hobby. - -The Legion was thoroughly afraid of the hospital! They were desperate -fellows indeed who tried shamming! - - * * * * * - -The topic of desertion from the Foreign Legion is wellnigh -inexhaustible. When the transports sail from Oran or Marseilles to -Indo-China with relief companies of the Legion on board, the Suez Canal -is a favourite means of deserting. According to the Canal regulations -the steamers must slacken speed in the narrow straits of Suez, and the -legionnaire takes the opportunity to jump overboard. He swims the short -stretch to land and is then safe. The sentries on the transports may -not use firearms in the international waters of the Suez Canal, and -therefore cannot fire on the deserter as he swims. Neither is -extradition from the English or Egyptian authorities to be feared. - -Several of these transports from the Foreign Legion pass through the -Suez Canal every year, and these desertions are so frequent that the -Ghetto of Port Said pays a fixed price of ten shillings for the capital -service boots of the Legion! - -Desertions _en masse_ occur now and then, but these may be classed -as mutinies rather than as desertions. In Southern Algeria, in the -loneliness of the desert, the garrison of some small fort occasionally -breaks out, marching for the Morocco frontier. The next bevy of troops -soon brings the runaways back again, and even if it comes to a shot or -two the superiority of the numbers against them soon brings the -mutineers to reason. A mutiny like this generally ends in the mutineers -being shot. An act of this sort is nothing else than an outbreak of -madness caused by the dreadful monotony of service on the lonely -stations in the desert. It is an outbreak of the cafard! The poor -devils should be treated by a doctor instead of being sentenced by a -court-martial. - -The Foreign Legion is a fruitful field for hypnotic suggestion. In my -time a number of legionnaires deserted from Sidi-bel-Abbes, with the -intention of fighting their way through to Morocco. Morocco was just -then talked about till the idea became surrounded with a sort of halo. -The attempt itself was pretty hopeless--the men were driven to it by -the suggestive power of the words, "le Maroc." - -Morocco was the Legion's fairyland, the land the soldier longed for. -Not a single day went by without a rumour of fighting in Morocco -raising excitement in the Foreign Legion to fever pitch. Dark -war-clouds were gathering on the horizon. From the frontier there came -continual reports of the intrigues of the pretender, and in the inland -of Morocco mighty battles were fought at short intervals. Among the -watchful officers of French Africa every one was certain that the -internal troubles in Morocco were not merely the petty splutterings of -the usual native fireworks, but the first sparks of a mighty bonfire. - -The Foreign Legion knew of this; then all that was discussed in the -officers' mess filtered through to the regiment through its own various -private channels. - -Orderlies came rushing into the barracks in a fever of excitement as -soon as they came off duty in the mess and told their friends in the -Legion all about the heated debates that had taken place and which all -revolved around Morocco. The servants of the staff officers brought -news of Moroccan visitors closeted with their masters; Spahis who had -served their time in the Morocco frontier garrisons and who were -quartered on the regiment on their way through to Oran, told how sharp -duty on the frontier now was, and how the garrisons were perpetually -being strengthened. - -The veterans put their heads together and discussed the prospects of a -bloody war! They had wonderful stories to tell of the golden treasures -of Morocco, of the jewels that the better classes wore, and in their -fancy they pictured an Eldorado of plundered wealth and booty. These -mysterious rumours grew from day to day. More than half of the -regiment's officers were ordered to the little frontier towns, and it -was not unnatural when the Legion found in this a sure sign of fighting -to come. With a broad smirk, an orderly brought the news that the -colonel had engaged two masters to teach him Arabic, and it was easy to -see how proud he was of the enormous supply of ammunition which was -sent out from France. Recruiting began with zeal in the Spahi barracks -opposite. Arab recruits with their splendid horses joined daily. -Sections for telegraph duty went off to the frontier to see to the old -wires and to lay new ones; volunteers were called for to form a corps -for the heliographs, and veterans whose time was up got the tip from -one or other of the officers that it would be very much to their -advantage to stay on and not to take their dismissal just then.... - -In this roundabout way, through non-coms, orderlies, and soldier -servants, everything was perhaps very much distorted, but it all -sounded very probable and typical. The Legion is like a mighty -ear-trumpet--through its countless channels it gathers up the officers' -gossip and intrigues for its own uses, and really knows a good deal -about the state of affairs in Northern Africa; it knows that the -military circles at the head of affairs in Algeria have their own axe -to grind, and that the clever catch-phrase "penetration pacifique" was -formed in an officers' club, and that greedy squinting at Morocco is as -old as the occupation of Algeria! - -It was as if every one stood under the ban of a mesmerist. The longing -for "le Maroc" spread to the legionnaires, who gave practical evidence -of their longing for change and excitement, deserting in crowds. Most -of them met their deaths. The border tribes cut their throats. - -Others had more luck. In the army of the pretender, the present Sultan, -Mulai Hafid, there used to be several officers who were once soldiers -of the Foreign Legion! - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -A CHAPTER ON PUNISHMENTS - -The return of the poumpistes : The scale of punishments in the Legion : -Of spiteful non-commissioned officers : The Legion's axiom : Sad -history of Little Jean : The punishment machine : Lost years : A -legionnaire's earnings in five years--francs 127.75 : The prisons in -the Foreign Legion : Pestilential atmosphere : Human sardines : The -general cells : Life in the prison : On sentry duty among the prisoners - - -"Nom de Dieu!--voila les poumpistes!" cried the sergeant of the guard -at the barrack gates. Every one sprang up. We of the guard (my company -was on guard that day) crowded round the gate; the adjutant -vaguemestre, the regimental postmaster, ran out of his little office -opposite the guard-room; a couple of officers came up, and legionnaires -streamed out from everywhere in a wild rush for the entrance to the -barracks. - -"The poumpistes have come back!" they cried to each other. - -It was in fact the truants from our company, poor Rader and his five -friends. They were indeed a pitiful sight. Two gendarmes brought them -in. They were all six bound together by a thin steel chain. Their dirty -uniforms hung around them in rags; they were faint and emaciated and -looked dead tired. Their faces were scarred. Rader had a blood-stained -bandage round his right arm. In their eyes you could read the deadly -fear of the punishment that awaited them. - -They had, of course, been treated pretty badly by the gendarmes. They -looked round them shyly, ashamed of their helplessness and of their -fetters. Herr von Rader alone had not lost his sense of humour. - -"How are you? Glad to see you!" he said to the sergeant! "I am back -again all right." - -In the little bureau of the officer of the day the two gendarmes had -their depositions taken and received the usual receipt from the -regiment for the safe delivery of the deserters. They withdrew looking -very pleased with themselves, for this receipt was worth 25 francs, -entitling them to their reward. - -The poumpistes were kept waiting in front of the guard-room, still -joined together by the chain. When Herr von Rader noticed me, he -greeted me with many head-shakings: - -"Damned rotten business!" he said quite loud. "Mein Freund, they didn't -make me a medicine man after all. The conjuring didn't work! All at -once five damned Arab gendarmes rode up to us, holding their revolvers -under our noses. I couldn't conjure them away.... Positively couldn't! -Well, and then we had to walk back. Say, I don't care much about -promenading when I am tied to a horse's tail. And the beggar of a horse -did run, I can tell you--and I behind it--because I was tied to its -tail, see?" - -"Silence!" commanded the sergeant. "No talking here." - -When the formalities of the surrender were over, the six deserters (I -was one of the guard who escorted them with fixed bayonets) were -marched off to prison. - -The keys rattled. The sergeant of the guard considered it necessary to -give vent to his bad humour in many superfluous remarks about "the -dirty, ragged, good-for-nothing lot of poumpistes, whom the penal -battalion would soon cure of skinning out," and gave Rader, who was the -last to cross the cell's threshold, a mighty kick. Rader fell at full -length. Then the heavy door swung to behind them.... - -A few years ago Herr von Rader and his companions would have been -sentenced to quite a curious kind of punishment which was at that time -considered in the Foreign Legion to be a radical cure for deserters--a -kind of mediaeval torture which, by the way, was not kept for deserters -solely, but came into use very often. This was the "silo" and the -"crapaudine." - -The silo consisted of a funnel-shaped hole in the ground, broad at the -top and pointed towards the bottom. A regular funnel. Into this hole, -used as a cell for solitary confinement, the misdoers would be thrown, -clad only in a thin suit of fatigue clothes, without a blanket or any -protection at all against the rain or against the sun, at the mercy of -the heat by day and the cold by night. The poor devils would be left -for several days in this "prison." They could not lie down, for the -bottom part of the hole was only one or two feet square. They spent day -and night alternately standing and crouching, now in pouring rain, now -in the burning sun. They very soon became ill from the foul vapours. -When at length they were taken out of the silo, they could neither walk -nor stand and had to be carried into hospital. Now and then a silo -prisoner died in his hole. - -They say in the Foreign Legion that it was General de Negrier who -abolished the silo. When he was inspecting Saida, he found a row of -fifteen silos, one beside the other, and every single one occupied. - -He had the unfortunates taken out and they fell down in a dead faint on -coming into the fresh air. Thereupon the general had every one of the -silos filled up before his own eyes and forbade the silo penalty ever -being used again. - -A more primitive but perhaps a still more brutal torture was the -crapaudine. The man to be punished was simply tied up into a bundle and -thrown into a corner, his hands and feet being tied together on his -back, till they formed a sort of semicircle. Such a crapaudinaire lay -there helpless day and night, totally unable to move. The most he could -do when he tried very hard was to roll from one side to the other. For -a quarter of an hour a day he would be set free and got bread to eat -and water to drink. A day and a night in the crapaudine was enough to -deprive a man of the use of his limbs--several days gave him his -quietus. - -This penalty has also been abolished. It exists still in a milder form. -In the field and on the march an offender is often punished by being -bound to two posts driven into the ground. - -To-day the punishments in the Legion are not quite as cruel as they -once were. At any rate their cruelty is not quite so apparent. Rader's -friends got off with fourteen days' prison, while he himself, after -waiting in prison an age for his trial, was sentenced by court-martial. -The poor fellow had lost his cap and belt and got a year's penal -servitude for "theft of equipment." What happened to him there I have -never heard. - -There is no fixed penalty for desertion. In general the poumpistes are -treated pretty mildly and sentenced, when they happen to be recruits, -to 40 to 120 days' prison. Only when they are recruits. The veterans -are always brought before the court-martial. But this is merely the -general rule; if, for instance, a deserter has managed to get for some -reason or another into the sergeant's or some other non-commissioned -officer's "black books," the charge against him will be certain to -include the loss of some part of his uniform, even when this is not in -the least the case. The Foreign Legion has its own ideas of the -subjects of pains and penalties. - -Viewed from the surface of things, there actually is a sort of scale of -punishment. At the beginning comes extra corvee, which is quite bad -enough. For little omissions in the daily routine, for a paquetage not -quite accurately put together, or for a button not polished well -enough, the offender can be sentenced by the sergeant of his section to -perform the heavy duties of the corvee, while his comrades are making -their repairs or having instructions. As long as I served in the Legion -I was never punished for a fault of my own, not even with extra -corvee--I took good care not to give the slightest excuse for -punishment. More than once, however, I made the acquaintance of general -corvee. This was our sergeant's speciality. When he inspected our -quarters in the morning and found some petty excuse for finding fault, -he did not bother with details, but just said: - -"Eh, corporal! A dirty, nasty room! Disgusting! The whole lot of you -extra corvee this afternoon, under your supervision, corporal!" - -Whereupon the corporal cursed and every fellow in the room -anathematised the sergeant as a "sale cochon"--a filthy swine. As the -"swine," however, was clothed with the bristles of authority, the extra -corvee had to be performed in spite of all curses and anathemas. - -Pretty nearly as frequent as this was confinement to barracks. This -comes next in the scale of punishments and is always connected with -"salle de police." Salle de police is only another name for the general -cells in the prisons. Above all the offenders are not allowed to leave -the barracks in their spare time. In other respects they do their duty -as usual. When their day's work is finished, however, at five o'clock, -they are called out every half-hour and sometimes every quarter of an -hour to the drill-ground, where their names are called over by the -sergeant of the guard. Any one who happens to miss one of these -roll-calls finds himself in prison for a week. In their fear of not -hearing the signal the men have not a single minute's quiet, and can -hardly find time to clean their kit for the morrow. At nine o'clock, at -the evening roll-call, they must report themselves in the guard-room, -and are shut up in the salle de police for the night--in the general -cells, which are filled to overflowing. Sleep among the crush of men -and in that nauseating atmosphere is only possible for a few hours, -when the tired body demands its right in spite of the disgusting -surroundings. Next morning at five they are dismissed and have to -perform the usual routine work with the rest of the company. Eight -days' "salle de police" are looked upon as a very light punishment--a -sure sign that the average legionnaire's susceptibilities are not all -too fine. - -Salle de police was something quite in the ordinary run of affairs for -us: confinement to barracks was a part of life in the Legion. In our -quarters I was the only man who had not made its acquaintance, and that -was the merest chance, luck plain and simple. - -No one excited himself about extra corvee and confinement to barracks. -Every single man in the Legion had, however, a mighty respect for the -prison. - -Prison, arrest in the regimental lock-up, is the Legion's real -punishment. Imprisonment in the Legion is made up of the hardest work -possible, and living under the most awful sanitary conditions; one can -only form an idea of what this punishment is like when one has had a -look at the Legion's prisons.[6] - - [6] See close of chapter. - -Next comes "cellule," solitary confinement on starvation diet. - -Then come the "Zephyrs," those condemned to the penal battalion. Every -two or three weeks a transport of Zephyrs left the barracks in old -ragged uniforms. In the battalion itself they have to wear the -coffee-brown clothes of the convict. - -"The sections for the reformation of incorrigibles" is the official -name for this battalion, and deportation to the Zephyrs is the severest -punishment which can be put into execution without the authority of a -court-martial. The official grasp of the meaning of the word -incorrigible is, however, a trifle strange sometimes. Under the -strictest surveillance these unfortunates carry on pioneer work in the -far south. They make roads, they dig wells, they build new stations in -the most unhealthy parts of Algeria, far removed from all civilisation. -They have to work as even a legionnaire, to whom the hardest work is so -familiar, would only work under the sternest compulsion. And if extra -pioneer work is needed in the south, if, for instance, a new road is to -be built, the battalion's numbers increase with amazing rapidity. It is -really astonishing how the number of incorrigibles in the Legion -increases just when the military administration needs men--for work! - -"Much work--many Zephyrs!" says the Legion's proverb. - -The scale finishes with the heavy military punishments, from penal -servitude to the death sentence, and here the decision of the Algerian -court-martial in Oran is final. Its sentences are renowned for their -pitiless severity. To be brought before this court-martial the -legionnaire need not have committed any very grave offence. It is -enough if he has lost some part of his uniform. - -In a well-known French historical work on the subject of the Foreign -Legion, Roger de Beauvoir writes: - -"Each of the two discipline sections is 150 men strong: of these 300, -200 at least are in the penal section for selling part of their kit. -It used to be the custom to 'let the stomach pay' for this offence, -_i.e._, the offender was put on bread and water till he had replaced -the lost equipment from the mess allowance that was saved. This -punishment was finally considered too barbarously old-fashioned, and -the court-martial took its place, which passes sentence of six months' -imprisonment. The legionnaires long for the old regime!" - -And thereby hangs a tale. - -A very sad story, too.... No sensible man will attempt to dispute the -fact that iron discipline is essential for the lurid mixture of human -material in the Legion. If the justice of the Foreign Legion was in -practice what it is in theory--stern but just--one could not say a word -against it. It is, however, only just in theory, in the intention of -the military law-makers. In reality it is the justice of unlimited -tyranny; made so by the individual tyranny of officers and -non-commissioned officers in individual cases, and in general by an -obstinate tenacity to the letter of the law. - -Every French officer and every French court-martial acts under the -time-honoured assumption that the legionnaire makes a brave soldier, -but is in all other respects a thoroughbred rogue and knave, and that -one cannot go far wrong in assuming the worst about him. The word of a -superior is always accepted as proof of guilt. There is no better -illustration of this than the everlasting heavy penalties which are -meted out for "theft of equipment." This sort of theft exists, of -course. Theft is not a thing to be very much wondered at when the men's -wages are five centimes a day. - -But many hundreds of innocents are punished for this offence in the -course of a year. - -The favourite trick of non-commissioned officers, when they have a -spite against a man, is to inspect his kit suddenly. Some trifle or -other, a tie or a couple of straps, are quite sure to be missing and -then there is the _casus belli_! "Lost is stolen--sold!" Thus the -axiom of the Legion's authorities, against which the most positive -assertions are of no avail. Now and then an offender of this sort is -leniently treated, and let off by the regiment with sixty days' -imprisonment; in the majority of cases, however, he is tried by the -court-martial. - -A typical case: "Jean the Unlucky" was the nickname of a young -Frenchman in my company who had been sentenced in his second year of -service to six months in the penal section for stealing a sash. He -swore he was innocent, and as far as I can tell he spoke the truth, as -his mother sent him twenty francs every month. Thus he was quite well -off according to Foreign Legion ideas, and certainly need not have -risked a heavy penalty by selling his ceinture for a few sous. The -probabilities were in favour of his innocence, but that did not help -him. He was sentenced. He survived his six months in the hell of the -penal battalion and was then sent back to his company. - -And now his troubles really began. At the time of his trial he had, in -his rage at the false accusation, made more than one biting remark -about our adjutant and his little ways. This the colour-sergeant never -forgot. In spite of the fact that Little Jean was a quiet fellow, who -did his duty to the best of his ability, a good soldier and a capital -shot, he kept wandering backwards and forwards between the prison and -the company, the company and the prison. Nothing he could do was right. -Sometimes his boots were not properly cleaned, sometimes his bed was a -centimetre out of the dead straight line in which beds must stand, and -at another time he had not stood properly at attention at roll-call. -Such were Little Jean's grave offences against the holy spirit of the -Legion's discipline--ridiculous accusations, which bore the stamp of -spite so plainly that even our careless captain should have noticed it. - -These human machines punished automatically, without feeling, without -thinking for an instant. The sergeant's reports demanding punishment -for Little Jean's awful sins were signed automatically. When the -sergeant put him down for eight days' confinement to barracks, the -captain mechanically increased the penalty to eight days' imprisonment, -because Jean le malheureux, coming from the penal section, had -naturally a very bad reputation. Then came the commander of the -battalion, who, not caring to be outdone in matters of discipline, -doubled the dose. The sergeant's modest eight days' confinement to -barracks had now grown to sixteen days' imprisonment. - -But now came the embodiment of authority in the regiment in the person -of the colonel. This colonel had his own ideas as to how one should -treat the pernicious elements in the regiment: - -"Second-class soldier Jean Dubois, No. 14892, 11th company, is -sentenced by the colonel to 40 days' imprisonment for continued -slackness and insubordination." - -That was read to us the next time the regimental orders came out. - -You see, the machine worked admirably. Its mechanism runs with -wonderful accuracy. Any one who took an interest in the matter could -work the whole thing out in advance. Dubois did this. He knew well -enough what was waiting for him--from day to day he became quieter, -from day to day sadder, so that at length he hardly spoke at all to his -comrades. He could do nothing to protect himself; he hadn't even enough -energy left for flight. Good Lord, he had long lost that little bit of -energy he had, lost it--somewhere down south in the sunburnt wastes, -where the penal battalion works and suffers. - -The machinery ground on.... Eighty days' imprisonment was Little Jean's -next dose. After that he got sixty days' cellule--just for a change. If -you consider only the number of days, you might think he had got off -pretty cheaply this time. Not a bit of it. These sixty days were days -of starvation. For cellule means hunger and emaciation--awful hunger -and awful emaciation. - -After his sixty days of diet cure Dubois came back to the company for -just a week, if I remember rightly. Then the machine began to work -again. This time it was a month he got.... Thirty days' -imprisonment--for this incorrigible and insubordinate subject! No, one -really cannot be surprised that the colonel lost all patience. So he -refused to confirm the punishment and sent the black sheep of the -company to trial by court-martial. And once more the machine began to -do its work. - -Two years' imprisonment, two years' penal servitude in a fortress, for -Jean le malheureux! - -With the next batch of convicts they carried him off to Oran. I have -heard nothing of him since--I do not know how he fared as a convict. In -my unconquerable optimism I am ready to assume that this two years' -interregnum did not do particular harm to Little Jean's health and that -he returned home, having done his duty by the Foreign Legion, dapper -and cheerful as he used to be. Even this supposition gives us a very -pretty bit of arithmetic. - - Jean Dubois' original period of service 5 years - - Extra service for time spent in the - penal battalion 6 months - - Ditto for regimental punishments 7 months - - Ditto for imprisonment in fortress 2 years - --------------- - Total time Jean Dubois had to serve - in place of his original five years 8 years 1 month - -In this optimistic piece of arithmetic my optimism even goes so far as -to assume that Jean the Unlucky, during his two years of imprisonment -and during the rest of his period of service, did not incur any -additional penalties. - -If I, however, compel myself to consider his career from a pessimistic -point of view, the sum works out much more prettily. Dubois had not a -very strong constitution and it is quite possible that the penal -battalion, plus imprisonment, plus starvation, plus despair, quite -finished him off. In that case the loss of a blue scarf, a spiteful -sergeant and the crass stupidity of a series of officers have been the -death of him. - -But if Jean Dubois really got over his years of prison--when he returns -home (he is a Frenchman!) his strength will not be worth much in the -workaday world. - -While I think of it. There is yet another very pretty piece of -arithmetic. Little Jean was a thoughtful man. When he comes back home -after his long years of Legion he will perhaps sit down and work out -how much he has earned in these eight, long, hard years. - -The example would look like this: - - Francs - First year of service, 5 centimes a day 18.25 - Second year of service, 5 centimes a day 18.25 - Third year of service, 5 centimes a day 18.25 - Fourth year of service, 10 centimes a day 36.50 - Fifth year of service, 10 centimes a day 36.50 - ------ - Grand Total 127.75 - -The other three years? In these Little Jean worked free, gratis, for -nothing. These three years were "rabiau," as they say in the Legion, of -no use, superfluous. In his three "rabiau" years Little Jean naturally -got no pay. Why should a convict get paid? - -So you see Little Jean's earnings amounted to the grand total of 127 -francs 75 centimes--earned in eight years. Besides all this, this -worthless fellow had been fed all this time! And clothed into the -bargain. - -Yes--c'est la Legion! - - * * * * * - -The prison in the barracks at Sidi-bel-Abbes used always to loom before -me like a threatening spectre. - -On both sides of the entrance to the barracks, close to the road, but -separated from it by a high wall, lay the two little houses with their -flat tin roofs which caught the sun's rays so pitilessly. Inside there -were rows and rows of cell doors in the long narrow corridors. The -single cells were a little more than three yards long and one yard -broad; the general cells were perhaps five yards square. There was no -light, and a little hole in the wall and an opening over the door were -the sole means of ventilation. The floor was flagged or of clay. There -was a wooden bench in each cell, a water-jug, and an old tin pail. The -single cells and the general cells were exactly alike in their -"fittings"--whether five men or fifty were shut up in these cells made -no difference! They got, according to the regulations, one water-jug -and one pail! I was never (and even to-day that is a satisfaction to -me) shut up in the Legion's prison. But I have seen enough, when I was -on guard there, to have had quite enough of the prison without any -nearer experience of it. - -I repeat: five yards square, thirty, forty, or more occupants: an -air-hole nine inches in diameter high up in the walls and a tiny crack -over the door. - -Any of these cells would at once be condemned by a veterinary as unfit -even for a pigsty! - -Before reveille at five o'clock in the morning all the sentries on -guard were marched up to the prison, and the sergeant opened the cells, -whereupon an awful stench streamed out. He read out the names from the -prison register, and the prisoners came out of the cells into the -passage as their names were called. Then they began to clean up. The -pails were carried by two men, accompanied by a sentry, to the sewer -openings in the barrack-yard. When the bigger cells were over-filled -(and this was almost always the case) they looked awful. The room was -like a sewer, flooded, pestilential.... To clean the cells there were -only a couple of old brooms in the prison. A few pails of water were -flooded over the floor, carelessly and hurriedly, for the sergeants did -not care about wasting too much time on the "prisonniers." A little -water and a few strokes with the broom! What is not washed away -trickles through the cracks and crannies in the stone floor and forms a -new basis for pestilence. - -The bowl of black coffee which forms the legionnaire's breakfast is not -given to the prisoners. They get no breakfast. They are allowed to wash -themselves at the basin in the corridor. Then they are led out to work, -on an empty stomach, frozen through by the chilly African night spent -uncovered on a hard wooden bench, and faint from breathing in that -pestilential atmosphere. - -All those who were sentenced to short terms of imprisonment were -commandeered to clean up the barrack-yard, to split wood, and to break -stones. The prisoners with longer sentences, and those in cellule, had -to go out to the "march of punishment," marching round in a small -circle for two hours on end, carrying heavy bags of sand, now and then -doubling for the sake of variety. When the corporal in command was in -bad temper he made them go through a course of Swedish gymnastics into -the bargain. This was tremendous work when burdened with the heavy -sack, and it strained the muscles and nerves in a way that nothing else -could. - -At ten o'clock the prisoners were given soup. They never got full -rations, since as long as they were in prison their mess allowance -ceased as well as their pay. - -The soup is thin, and the piece of meat which swims in it is as small -as may be.... Their bread rations consist of half of what they get in -the company. The prisoners in solitary confinement are placed on -starvation diet. Their soup consists of hot water with little bits of -potatoes and bread-crusts, and they only get this every other day. In -the interval they have to live on bread--on a quarter of the Legion's -bread rations. One must have seen how terribly emaciated these poor -fellows become in a few days to be able to do justice to the barbarity -of a system which has three main ideas: undernourishment, overwork, -frightful sanitary conditions. - -After they have finished "dinner," their work begins again. The drill -suits had got dirty, and bore signs of the nights they had gone -through. The operation, too, of emptying the tin pails cannot be -performed without the suits being considerably the worse for it. But -the drill suits were only changed when an inspection by the colonel was -imminent, and clean underclothes were a luxury absolutely unknown in -prison. - -The sergeants on guard always considered it an important part of their -duties to treat the prisoners as badly as possible. In the prison it -simply rained curses. Many sergeants took an especial delight in -inspecting the prisoners every three hours throughout the night. They -had to come out into the yard, and the sergeant read their names and -numbers by the light of the lantern, taking as long about it as he -could, while the poor wretches had to stand there motionless in their -thin clothes for half an hour in the cold night air. This would be -repeated three or four times a night. In this way the sergeant manages -to while away his dreary night on guard, and had in addition the -pleasing sense of having played his little part in the regiment's -system of justice. Under discipline in the Foreign Legion they -understand a series of variations, improvements or otherwise, on the -mediaeval systems of torture. - -It is merely the petty offences against discipline that are punished in -these hovels. - -I was on the watch in the narrow corridor of one of these prisons, -pacing to and fro on the cold flags with fixed bayonet. Eight hours -before the poumpistes, Rader and the rest of them, had been brought in. -Through the narrow opening between the wall and the prison, a little -strip of starlit sky could be seen, and down the narrow passage the -cold night wind howled. But it could not drive away the pestilential -stench which hung heavy over the prison and which was perpetually being -increased by the vapours from the ventilation holes and the tiny -openings in the cellules. This awful smell tortured my nerves and -rendered sentry-go in the prison anything but pleasant. - -Besides Rader and his fellow-deserters, there were forty others in the -general cell. When at ten o'clock at night the sergeant inspected the -prison and the cells were opened, I saw how the men lay huddled -together on the wooden benches, man to man, like sardines packed in a -tin. But in spite of this scarcely twenty out of the forty prisoners -could find room on the bench. The others crouched in the corners, -sleeping with their knees drawn up to their chins; several lay on the -bare floor, filthy though it was. It was freezing cold for them in -their thin drill clothes. The prison blankets they had been given were -hardly worth calling blankets, ancient rags, so thin that one could see -through them like a veil and so small that the men had the choice of -covering their feet or their bodies; the blankets were not big enough -to do both. They were stiff with dirt and most of them were alive with -vermin. In the daytime they were just thrown into a corner of the cell. - -It was no wonder that the men who had just been shut up in this cell -could not sleep. Once I heard Rader ask gently who was doing sentry. He -must have stood on the shoulders of one of his comrades to be able to -reach the ventilation hole, which was high up in the wall. When I -answered it was I, he said he could not stand it any more in -there--hadn't I a cigarette? I spitted a packet of cigarettes on my -bayonet and handed it up to him. - -"Keep up your pecker, old man," I whispered. - -"Good Lord, good Lord ..." was the reply, in a pitiful tone which -hadn't even a touch of Rader's droll humour left in it. - -The sound of groans and curses reached me continually from the cell; -all spoke very gently for they knew that they would be severely -punished if a noise was heard. It is a prison custom for the sentry in -the corridor to let the butt of his rifle fall loudly on the floor when -he hears the sergeant coming. This is a warning signal. When in their -excitement they spoke a little louder I could now and then hear through -the opening what they were saying. In eloquent French, one of the -prisoners, whose accent proclaimed him to be a man of education, was -complaining of life in the Legion, and all was still in the cell while -the ringing voice spoke in passionate excitement. - -Snatches of what I heard are still fixed in my memory: - -"My God, if I could only die!--My friends, I've always done my duty -here.--I've marched and marched and marched for four long years.--For -four years I've borne burdens, exposed to wind and weather, and have -tired my strength.--Four long years! Yes, I've lost my tie, oh, la la, -a thin blue rag worth a couple of centimes--and was marched off to -prison! I'd stolen the tie, I'd sold it--who believes the word of a -legionnaire! _Mea culpa_, my friends!" - -"_Mea maxima culpa!_" repeated the speaker quietly. "'Tis true one has -never been much use and has made a monstrous thing of one's life--you -and I and all of us! And why not? That's all past and done with now. -All the same--I'm ashamed of the country in which the Foreign Legion -can exist. I'm a Frenchman. But I say: Damn the Legion, damn the land -of the Legion...." - -And over all there hung the pestilential vapours in the tiny room with -the crowded humanity within. - -When I was relieved at midnight the sergeant asked: "Anything unusual?" - -"No, nothing special," I answered. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -SOME TYPES OF VICE - -A variety of human vices : The red wine of Algeria : Shum-Shum : If -there were no wine - - -It was always a marvel to me that neither cards nor dice played the -slightest part in the life of the Legion, in sharp contrast with the -important part they take in the life of the English Tommy, and -especially of the American soldier, who is an incorrigible gambler. On -a little station in Texas a detachment of sly old regulars in the -course of the single night that they were quartered there cleaned out -all the cowboys of the neighbourhood. I was one of the victims. But -that's another story.... Anyhow, the Legion is free from the vice of -gambling. This is perhaps hardly to be wondered at; five centimes -wages. The possibility of winning or losing five centimes is hardly -worth a throw of the dice. - -In its place all the vices of almost every nation in the world can be -found in the Foreign Legion. This is not saying too much; I've looked -on. - -Vicious influences are, however, much stronger in Indo-China and in -French Tonquin, where the garrisons of the various stations are all -drawn from the Legion. Veterans like Smith used to tell me things about -the life in Tonquin that almost made my hair stand on end. In the -inland districts the stations are quite small, and a few legionnaires -have to look after a large number of natives. The entire system of -justice on such a station, including the power of life and death, lies -in the hands of a couple of young officers and a few sergeants and -corporals. Surrounded by all possible human vices in their very worst -forms, to whose influence the deadly monotony inevitable on one of -these stations is added, the men live exposed to constant danger -occasioned both by the intrigues among the natives and the murderous -climate. The one seeks relief in spirits, the other swears by opium. -The fact that opium-smoking plays an important part in the life of the -French Navy and among the French Army officers in the Colonies has been -made public often enough already: every veteran in the Legion knows -well enough that in Toulon and Marseilles there are countless opium -dens which depend solely on the custom of French officers. These opium -dens were thoroughly discussed in the French press during the trial of -the midshipman Ullmo. - -The habit of opium-smoking has, in nearly all cases, been acquired in -Indo-China. Spirits, opium, and loneliness form the fruitful soil in -which the Legion's vice takes root. In solitary cases even the officers -come under its influence. When this happens the results are sometimes -very terrible.... - -Among the garrisons of Indo-China the most notorious used to be those -of Sui-can and Bac-le. A certain Lieutenant Duchesne, who was later -killed in battle, many say by his own men, and the fact that the bullet -hit him in the back goes to prove the truth of this statement, has made -his name immortal in the Legion in this connection. Though he has been -dead several years, one still hears of his cruelty. His legionnaires -were all forced to submit themselves to his vicious freaks, resistance -being punished with the penal section, which is ten times worse in -Tonquin than those in Algeria. The obedient, however, were promoted. - -Even to-day the same sort of thing can be found here and there in -Indo-China. There are always stories like this to be heard in the -Legion, adjutants and sous-officiers being freely named who are said to -owe their promotion to the vicious preference of some officer or other. -A good deal is perhaps spiteful gossip, but the stories are so -frequent, and the details given are so minute, that there must be a -certain amount of truth in them. - -In addition to these outside influences, a further cause of depravity -is the involuntary celibacy to which the legionnaire is subjected. And -this celibacy has its origin in a financial consideration: the five -centimes per day. - -... One always comes back again to the same point from which one -started. - -Whoever really knows the Foreign Legion, whoever takes the trouble to -probe the depths of its misery and sin, of its brutality and vice, -always comes back, like a man walking in a circle, to the same source -of all its ills: the pitiful wage that's not worth calling a wage which -this business enterprise pays: this infamous business enterprise that a -chivalrous nation has so long tolerated and tolerates still. - - * * * * * - -All human vices are to be found in the Legion. And first among the -minor ones comes drunkenness. This takes the first place, occurring -most frequently and being the most characteristic and easily indulged, -in a country where the price of a litre of heavy wine varies between -ten and twenty centimes. - - Das ist ja eben das Malheur: - Wer Sorgen hat, trinkt auch Likoer. - -"The man who has troubles, drinks"--Algerian wine, or in Indo-China a -horrible spirit, which is distilled, I believe, from rice and which -rejoices in the name of "Shum-Shum," and has the advantage of an -uncommonly high percentage of alcohol. It has only one drawback, and -that is its infernal smell, which delicate European noses cannot stand. -The legionnaire, however, drinks it: while drinking he holds his nose, -since he hardly values its aroma as he does its alcohol. I have often -heard old legionnaires singing the praises of Shum-Shum. One could get -accustomed to its smell, they said, and it made one very, very drunk. - -The droll verses of the old German humourist, Wilhelm Busch, with their -subtle point, might have been written for the Legion. How they drank in -the canteen of the Foreign Legion in Sidi-bel-Abbes. The litre--a litre -of wine--took the place of the current coinage. Thus it was nothing -unusual for a legionnaire, when asked to wash for a comrade well -endowed with this world's goods, to raise one finger: that meant, of -course, a litre. - -"If we hadn't wine...." I shall never forget Smith's pet expression. - -There are no statistics on this point. I am, however, quite certain -that a good half of the miserable wages paid to the Foreign Legion are -spent in purchasing the red wine of Algiers. In addition to this, -nine-tenths, nay ninety-nine-hundredths of the notes and postal orders -which the legionnaires are continuously sent by anxious parents and -relations in Europe go to swell the coffers of Madame la Cantiniere. - -This is in no sense an accusation. When one considers the life of the -soldier of the Legion with understanding, one recognises that no one in -the world has more cares than he, no one a better right to his few -hours of oblivion. Yes, the African legionnaire has a hard life, and -drunkenness in his case is really almost excusable. I only want to show -what a prominent role the red wine of Algeria does play in the life of -the Legion. It is, it is true, the most general vice, but it is the -only means of obtaining a few moments of bliss, and the sole source of -pleasure. - -Wine is the cause of a great many punishments. Drunkenness is a "sale -offense," to use the soldier's expression, a dishonourable offence that -is severely punished, and which continually furnishes the penal section -with new material. - -As an instance of this I will give you the story of a man in my -company, a Belgian named Lascelles. At regular intervals he got a -postal order for a small sum sent him from some relative in Europe. On -receiving his money, he vanished as soon as he came off duty and did -not come back to the barracks again for at least twenty-four hours. As -long as his coppers lasted, he used to go from wine-shop to wine-shop -and empty bottle after bottle. On his return he would be immediately -locked up for overstaying his leave of absence; generally, however, to -celebrate the event he had made a great disturbance, and committed a -series of more or less grave offences, for each of which he was -punished singly. Every month the time he spent in prison grew longer -and longer, beginning with a trifling eight days and increasing to a -month's solitary confinement. In between whiles, Lascelles was a -capital soldier, who did his work willingly enough. When, however, his -name was read out at roll-call--a postal order for Lascelles--one could -be sure that a day later would find him in prison once more. In a few -months he had worked his way up the regimental scale of punishments, -and then came the inevitable end and he was sent off to the penal -section. - -Lascelles' misfortunes were at any rate his own fault. It often -happens, however, that spiteful sergeants in the Legion take advantage -of a man's love of drink to work his ruin. - -A sergeant has a spite against a man and waits patiently for the day -when he comes into the barracks in a state of intoxication. He then -follows him to his quarters and gives him some order or other. The man -feels how needless and spiteful this is, and, being hardly in a -condition to think of danger, answers with a curse. This is just what -is wanted. Even when the man is sober enough to do what he has been -ordered, he is severely punished for his curse. Should he continue to -be "insubordinate" he comes before the court-martial. - -This is a very old trick in the Legion, and only recruits or very old -legionnaires under the influence of drink and suffering at the same -time from the cafard are caught by it. The average legionnaire is -careful, and, drunk or sober, obeys every order no matter how furious -he may be. "Nix Zephyrs pour moi," he says. - -"Ah yes, there is another side to the proverb, 'If there were no -wine....'" - - * * * * * - -Every vice was represented there. The most brutal egotism and boundless -avarice ruled that hard life. One grudged one's comrade a crust of -bread, a sip of wine, or a piece of meat. The man who had a few -shillings sent him was an object of hate and envy. - -Intrigue--slander--lying--theft--the Legion brings all the bad points -in a man's character to full development. - -Whose fault is it? - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -MY ESCAPE - -In the Arab prison : The letter : Days of suffering : Flight! : The -greedy "Credit Lyonnais" : Haggling in the Ghetto : The palm grove as a -dressing-room : On the railway track : Arab policemen : Horrible -minutes : Travelling to Oran : Small preparations : On the steamer -_St. Augustine_ : Marseilles-Ventimiglia : Free - - -The days came and the days went, and with every day I understood more -what it meant to be a legionnaire in Africa. - -The knowledge so gained was not pleasant. - -One day I was on guard in the Arab prison of Sidi-bel-Abbes, an ugly, -gloomy building in the middle of the town. An old retired sergeant of -the Legion was overseer of the Arab prison, and with the help of two -gendarmes kept the Arab prisoners in strictest order. The prison was -always crowded with native sinners, for the petty thefts in the -market-place and the constant fights in the negro quarter kept the -cells of that grey building near the Place Sadi Carnot always full. The -native prisoners had often made trouble, and mutinies had been quite -frequent. The last outbreak had been very serious, so since that time -the Legion had sent a guard every day to the Arab prison consisting of -a corporal and six men. - -My rifle with fixed bayonet over my shoulder, I kept pacing slowly on -the top of the broad wall surrounding the prison in an enormous square. -The sun burned down pitilessly. In the tiny courtyard small groups of -Arab prisoners cowered in the sulky silence of inactivity. All talking -was forbidden in the prison. The overseer's sharp words of command now -and then, and the ring of my steps on the stones of the wall, sounded -into the silence. Mechanically I followed the path prescribed for -"sentry-go," marching round and round the prison square. - -From the high wall I had a view of all Sidi-bel-Abbes. The town was -like a city of the dead in this frightful heat. The blinds in all the -houses were pulled down and there was not a soul to be seen in the -streets. In the hot, trembling air the faint outlines of the mountains -of Thessala glittered in the far distance. There was not a breath of -wind. - -Two legionnaires in white fatigue uniforms turned into the street -leading to the prison. They were men from our company, bringing us our -evening soup. They called out something to me that I could not -understand and I acknowledged it with an indifferent nod. Then they -knocked at the gate of the prison and had to wait an age till the -overseer opened it with his jingling bunch of keys and they could carry -their soup-pail into the guard-room. Some minutes later one of them -came into the yard by the guard-room and beckoned to me to come nearer -to him. As I approached, I saw that he held a white something in his -hand. - -"Eh, une lettre pour toi!" he cried. "Here's a letter for you." - -Very much annoyed I called down to him to hurry up and get out of this. -It was too hot for practical jokes. I never got letters.... - -"But here is one," said the man. "Your name, your company, your -number--everything all right! La la--I'm off--I'll give your letter to -the corporal. May Allah better your bad temper! Sapristi, how hot it -is!" - -I had to wait half an hour until I was relieved. Those were terrible -minutes. A letter--a letter for me? It seemed almost impossible. There -was nobody in the world who could or should know where I was or what I -was doing. The blood rose in hot waves to my head--and all at once I -recognised that there was only one human being who could have written -to me--that her love was not dead. - -Slowly the seconds, the minutes went by. I waited in indescribable -suspense. The sun was sinking. The houses of Sidi-bel-Abbes were bathed -in its ruddy glow. Below me in the prison yard I heard a noisy -chattering in guttural Arabic. The prisoners were being given their -food and were then allowed to speak. The poor devils' chatter seemed to -pierce my brain; that buzzing noise down below hurt me, until I could -not stand it any longer. - -"Be quiet there!" I cried. - -There was immediate silence. A gendarme called out to me that I had -made a mistake and that talking was allowed. "Pas defendu de parler," -he said to the prisoners, and the Arabs looked up at me with angry -eyes. - -And I had to go on waiting, waiting.... - -This awful suspense seemed to have lasted for hours when the corporal -at last came to relieve me. The conventionality of passing orders and -sentry instructions was being gone through; we were on service and it -was contrary to all discipline--but I could not wait any longer. - -"You've a letter for me, corporal?" I asked. - -"Yes, there is a letter for you," he answered. "You can have it as soon -as I have done relieving the sentries. En avant--marche!" - -A new period of anxious waiting and torturing expectation.... At last -the corporal of the guard came back and put his hand in his pocket: - -"Voila!" - -On the white envelope I saw the characters of the handwriting I knew so -well. I went out into the square which was now empty, as the prisoners -had been locked up in their cells again. I read and read--again and -again.... - -Love stretched out its hand to the lost soldier of the Legion and spoke -to him of happiness to come. Long years hence when the legionnaire -would be no longer a legionnaire. The letter's many pages bore traces -of tears. I wanted to tear off my uniform, that brand of slavery -condemning me to inactivity. Within me all was in a whirl. In the -darkness of the ugly court I dreamed dreams of the past and hopes of -the future so hopelessly far off. During the four hours from watch to -watch I sat motionless in the prison-yard. - -In these few hours there came to me that energy which meant the -beginning of a new life. Then it was my turn for sentry duty again. And -then I sat down at the small table in the guard-room while the corporal -and the other men slept, and wrote an endless letter with the -corporal's pencil on the back of report forms. Page upon page.... - -The next day a letter from my mother came; a letter that neither asked -questions nor held reproaches. It only spoke of love and anxiety for -me. This letter solved the riddle of how my whereabouts had been -discovered. After long months of waiting and wondering the people who -loved me got the idea that I might be in the Foreign Legion, since the -last letter they received from me had been dated from the French -fortress, Belfort. My mother wrote to the general in command of the -fortress and to the French Secretary of War. The answer was long -delayed, but at last the news came that I had joined the Foreign Legion -at Sidi-bel-Abbes--that I was the legionnaire number 17889! - -With that hour in the Arab prison which brought me the first letter, -the days of suffering began. I performed my duty and did my work like a -machine, thinking of nothing but the letters which the next post would -bring me. I hardly spoke a word to anybody in those times. When I was -off duty I went for long walks in the still paths by the fortifications -in order to be alone. Finally only one idea governed my thoughts: -Flight! - -Week after week I received letters every day, begging and beseeching me -to have patience. I was to remember that all hopes for the future would -be shattered if I was caught deserting. Better to wait for years than -to risk everything. But I could not wait. And one day there came a -registered letter from my mother. When I opened it, I held banknotes -for a large sum of money in my hand.... - -This meant freedom! I crossed the court of the barracks as one in a -dream. This money in my pocket meant new life for me--my mother had for -the second time given me life. I knew what a sacrifice this money -meant; how hard it must have been for my mother with her tiny widow's -pension to scrape together such a sum of money for me. And all at once -a wave of happiness overcame me--I should be free! I should be able to -thank those loving ones who were helping me.... - - * * * * * - -I got that letter at five o'clock in the afternoon. I was just off duty -and had come back to the barracks, having been pulling out weeds in the -Legion's cemetery. That should be my last bit of work as legionnaire. - -Not a single hour I intended to wait. There was no more rest for me in -the land of Sidi-bel-Abbes. In our quarters my comrades were sitting at -supper as I came back from the regimental post-bureau, and Smith was -much surprised at my eating nothing, and at my putting on at once my -extra uniform. He looked suspiciously at me, as if he had an idea that -I had something out of the way on my mind. I would have been only too -glad to say a last good-bye to the old bugler who had been a true -friend to me in his rough way, but he was sitting at table with the -rest of the men. When I had finished dressing and had quietly taken my -letters and the few trifles I wanted to take with me out of my -knapsack, Smith came up and lay down on his bed as usual after supper. - -"Good-bye, old man," I whispered. "You've been a good fellow." - -Smith did not move. Only his eyes lighted up.... - -"Got money?" he asked gently. - -"Yes." - -"Then it's all right. Good-bye, sonny--good-bye!" - -As I went out the other men were sitting on the benches doing the -various odd jobs which were part of life in the Legion. They rubbed and -polished--polished and rubbed. At that time they were hardly more to me -than a passer-by in the street. Now, I confess, the face of every one -of them is indelibly burnt into my brain. - -I was to be subjected to a final annoyance. - -The sergeant of the guard stopped me at the gate of the barracks, -because in my excitement I had buttoned up my overcoat on the wrong -side. He said he had a good mind to turn me back for my carelessness. - -"Nom de Dieu! you pig, don't you know that this month the overcoats are -buttoned on the right side?" - -But he let me go. Through the crowd of legionnaires I hurried down the -promenade. The first place I had to go to was the "Credit Lyonnais," -the famous French bank which had a branch in Sidi-bel-Abbes near the -Place Sadi Carnot. The greater part of my money consisted of Belgian -banknotes, which naturally were not in circulation in Algeria, and I -thought I should be able to have them changed at the bank more quickly -and cheaply than anywhere else. There I made a mistake. The clerk at -the counter explained in a roundabout way that Belgian banknotes were -of no use to them, and that it would cost a lot of money to send them -to Paris. He was only greedy, of course (everybody in Sidi-bel-Abbes -is), and trying to get an especially high commission out of me. Perhaps -he thought that a legionnaire should be too pleased at having so much -money to bother about a few francs more or less. There he was in error. -I replied I should complain to the colonel of my regiment that the only -bank in Sidi-bel-Abbes tried to overcharge a simple soldier. Whereupon -this greedy clerk of a world-famous bank grumblingly took my notes and -gave me French money for them. - -Through the brightly illuminated main streets, saluting officers right -and left, I hurried to the Ghetto. In the very first alley of the -Ghetto I met an old fellow who looked promising. I tapped him on the -shoulder. - -"Eh! Civilian clothes?" - -The Jew raised his forefinger warningly. - -"Can't sell to legionnaires." - -I turned on my heels and went slowly on. But he was after me already. - -"How much?" - -"Twenty francs." - -"Fifty!" - -"Thirty." - -"Forty-five!" - -"Look here," I said. (The conversation was held in bad Algerian French, -of course.) "I'll give you forty francs, and that settles it. But I've -got to have those clothes quick." - -The Jew looked at me dubiously, and held out the palms of his hands. -One could not be mistaken about the gesture: he had his doubts about my -solvency. So I reassured the old man by showing him a few gold pieces. -Now the son of Israel was quite satisfied, and led me a few steps -farther on into a house. A tiny little lamp was smoking in a -foul-smelling room. - -"Sarah!" called out my companion. - -An old woman came hobbling out of a neighbouring room, and when she -heard what was wanted went off and fetched a heap of clothes. Amongst -them there was a suit which looked fairly respectable. It fitted me -pretty well, and in the natural order of things we began haggling -again. Fifty francs changed hands. - -Then I gave the Ghetto man another gold piece. - -"Now hurry up and get me a hat somewhere, a pair of boots, a collar and -a tie." - -But here the fat old woman with her shrill voice began to make -difficulties. I was bringing misfortune on them. It was after business -hours anyway. I must not stay in the house any longer--it was far too -dangerous. "Allez vous en--allez vous en!" - -The old lady began to get on my nerves, and I went willingly enough. At -the corner I waited for the old Jew. In ten minutes he came back, and -said that he could for twenty francs get me a really good outfit, -boots, an extra collar, a good hat and a pair of gloves; for an extra -twenty he could procure an excellent revolver. He got the money, and -after a short time came back with two bundles. - -At the end of the next street there was the high wall of the -fortifications. From the inside I could climb over easily enough. The -drop to the ground on the other side was a pretty big one, but I landed -unhurt in the sand, in the middle of a palm grove. From the open -windows of a villa close to the grove a flood of light streamed, and I -could hear the merry sounds of a waltz. I could see the couples -dancing. Many officers were amongst them. But there was no danger of -being seen; it was pitch dark among the palms. In feverish haste I tore -off my uniform and put on the civilian clothes. They fitted me well. It -was quite a strange feeling fastening a collar and tie once more.... - -And when I had changed I nailed uniform and overcoat, and boots and -belt, and everything to a palm with the bayonet, wondering who would -find them in the morning! - -I drew on my gloves and my toilet was complete. In the villa the band -(it was the Legion's band too) was playing a German waltz: "Das ist das -suesse Maedel...." - -With a feeling very much akin to fright I walked to the nearest gate in -the fortification walls. The soldiers on guard there, however, did not -take the slightest notice of me. This gave me more confidence. Slowly -and unostentatiously I crossed the promenade as though I were merely a -respectable citizen out for a stroll. Legionnaires were promenading -everywhere. More than once I had to turn and make a detour to avoid -meeting non-commissioned officers of my own company. It was an exciting -walk. At last I had passed through the main streets and came to a -suburban road leading straight to the railway station. The little -station was quite deserted. I looked carefully about me to see whether -anybody was watching me, and then climbed down the steep embankment to -the railroad tracks, leading straight to the north to Oran. - -In the meantime it had become quite dark. From afar the lights of the -station and of the switch-signals were shining; the lines themselves -lay hidden in pitch-darkness. I began to run. At first I kept stumbling -over the sharp stones between the rails and once I fell at full length. -Soon, however, I got the hang of the thing, springing from sleeper to -sleeper. I ran as hard as I could. A quarter of an hour, half an hour. -Then I had to stop, coughing and out of breath. It was beginning to -drizzle. The landscape was cloaked in inky darkness and there was only -a faint gleam of light on the horizon far behind me to show where -Sidi-bel-Abbes lay.... As far as I could tell I must have covered about -five kilometres. My feet were paining me. I drew off one of my boots -and found that there were long rows of nails sticking up inside and -that the soles were damp with blood. I tore up my handkerchief and made -a pad from the rags to cover the nails. But the horrible little -monsters bored through even this. Anyhow, it was far better than -before. I examined the revolver in my pocket and it was a pleasant -surprise to find that it was a capital weapon, a Browning pistol. The -old Jew, who certainly knew nothing about weapons, had, with the -revolver, atoned for his sins in the matter of boots! - -Once more I started forward. My feet had to get accustomed to the nails -whether they liked it or not. From now on I kept up an alternate double -and walk, husbanding my strength as I had learnt to do in the Legion, -running five minutes at the double and then walking five minutes, -always following the railway's bee-line for the north. Once I heard the -roar of a train behind me and lay down flat in the sand by the rails. -Thus hour after hour went by. I had already passed three stations, -which merely consisted of a few houses which lay there deserted in the -darkness. As I passed a lonely signal-house a dog began to bark and I -started off in deadly terror, running like a madman till I had left the -beast tearing at his chain far behind me. How thankful I was for the -silence and darkness.... I breathed with difficulty, I had been running -so hard. My clothes were soaked with sweat, and when I stopped for a -moment to rest, an icy shiver passed over my whole body. But I pulled -myself together, for I wanted to reach a medium-sized station, where it -would not be so noticeable when I took a ticket for Oran. - -The rain soon stopped again. And now the moon began to shine fitfully -through the gaps in the clouds, even this faint light being much more -than I cared about. A terrible fear of being seen by a police patrol -came over me. All at once the country became hilly. On either side of -the rails there lay mighty rocks, great jagged boulders of sandstone, -and I rejoiced in the shelter they gave me. I had been running for some -minutes between the rocks when I heard a strange noise. At first I -thought it was another train. But as the sound grew nearer and grew -clearer I knew what it was: galloping horses! - -Through a gap in the rocks I could see the fine white line which marked -the road. It was scarcely a hundred yards away from the railway. On -this road a patrol was coming along at a gallop.... - -Had the police already seen me? Just before, where the country was -flat, my silhouette must have stood out sharply defined against the sky -in the moonlight. - -In a paroxysm of fear I crawled in between two rocks and held my breath -to listen. The horses drew nearer and nearer, the beat of their hoofs -on the roadway ringing out loud and clear. Peeping out of my -hiding-place I could see the dark forms of horses and their riders. Now -they were up with me. I heard a sharp exclamation in Arabic. The three -men pulled up their horses and came to a halt. - -I pulled out my pistol. The barrel shone in the moonlight. I hastily -covered up the weapon with my coat, for fear it should betray my -hiding-place. Then I carefully cocked the pistol and felt whether the -cartridge-frame was in order. A feeling of icy calmness came upon me. I -made up my mind not to stir from my hiding-place and not to fire until -the gendarmes were quite close to me in their search. I considered the -matter carefully. Two full cartridge-frames I took in my left hand, -ready to refill the chamber. My idea was to empty the magazine in quick -shooting in order to get in as many shots as possible before they -recovered from their surprise. - -Down below some one lit a match. It burned for a moment only. I heard -one of the gendarmes laugh. Then the three men galloped forward again. -One of them must have asked his comrades for a match.... - -The noise of the galloping horses was soon lost in the distance, but -for a long time I sat trembling from head to foot between the two -rocks. The tears of over-excitement were running down my face as I put -up the pistol. I could have yelled for joy that this awful danger was -over. When I stood up again, I fell back against the rocks. My -trembling knees could not support my body.... - - * * * * * - -Les Imberts was the name of the station. It was forty-two kilometres -distant from Sidi-bel-Abbes; in seven hours I had covered a distance of -about thirty English miles. When at four o'clock in the morning I -reached the station and deciphered its name and its distance from -Sidi-bel-Abbes in the darkness, there was not a human being to be seen. -The stillness of night still lay upon everything. A few hundred yards -from the station a number of freight cars stood. I jumped into one of -them and studied, lighting one match after another, the Algerian -time-table which my careful mother had sent me. The first train to Oran -went at a few minutes past five. - -The first thing to be done was to care for my outer man a little. I -climbed out of the car again and found, after a long search, a barrel -half full of water standing under a shed. Day was just breaking. After -a very hurried wash I hid again in one of the cars, brushing my clothes -and cleaning my boots with my handkerchief. I was very glad of the -extra collar which my friend of the Ghetto had purchased. Finally I had -a look at myself in my tiny looking-glass. It would do! Indeed, the -effect was not half bad. It would do very well; decently dressed people -were scarce in Algeria.... - -At five o'clock I started on a roundabout route for the station. A -dozen people stood waiting on the platform, amongst them an Arab -policeman leaning lazily against the wall. I went straight up to the -ticket office. - -"Oran--premiere classe!" - -"Sept-soixante," said the official. "Seven francs and sixty centimes." - -I jumped into the nearest first-class compartment, and found to my joy -that it was empty. The train started off. During the two hours' journey -from Les Imberts to Oran I brought my dress into decent order and -smoked innumerable cigarettes to drive away my sleepiness. At the -barrier in Oran a sergeant of Zouaves and a corporal of the Legion were -watching for deserters, but they didn't take the slightest notice of -me. - -Until ten o'clock I wandered about the town. Then I went to the office -of the French Mediterranean line and took a second-class ticket for -Marseilles. The passenger boat _St. Augustine_ was due to start at -five in the afternoon. - -All at once I became very sleepy. I could hardly keep my eyes open, but -I had not the courage to go to an hotel and rest there for a few hours. -So I went into a restaurant and enjoyed a long-drawn-out French dinner -and a bottle of heavy Burgundy. Suddenly I remembered that it would -look suspicious if I started on a sea voyage without any luggage. For a -few francs I procured a big valise whose paste-board sides looked -really "the same as leather," and bought newspapers at every corner to -stuff my "luggage" with. - -At a few minutes to five I went on board the steamer. With a cigarette -between my lips and a bundle of newspapers under my arm I walked up and -down the deck, read _Le Rire_, and did all I could to assume a -careless mien. In reality I was in a very serious situation. The -question was: Had a telegram from the regiment with my description -reached Oran already or not? - -The half-hour struck, but the _St. Augustine_ was still in dock. -Police came and went. All at once I felt myself go pale as death; a -patrol of four Zouave sergeants was coming up the gangway. They went -over the whole ship, looking carefully about them. Then they -interchanged a few words with the captain and went on again.... - -I was just beginning to breathe again, when a gendarme came up to me -and asked, saluting courteously: - -"Monsieur is a Frenchman?" - -"Non, monsieur, an Englishman," I answered quietly, and smiled at the -gendarme in spite of the icy fear gripping at my heart. - -If he should chance on the idea of asking for my papers I was lost! - -"Your name, please?" - -"Eugene Sanders." - -"Profession?" - -"Engineer--from Tlemcen--on the way to Nice." - -"Thank you." - -... After a few minutes the ship's bell rang out, the gangways were -pulled in, and the screw began to revolve. I went into my cabin and -went to sleep. During the whole of the sea voyage I had not a single -thought, not a single hope, not a single fear--I merely slept. - -As the _St. Augustine_ ran into harbour in Marseilles, a new -difficulty presented itself. What would the custom-house say to my -valise filled with paper? Luggage of this sort would have made anybody -suspicious. - -Chance came to my aid. A number of boats crowded around the ship, and -several boatmen climbed on board to offer their services as porters, -and so on. I went up to one of them and told him that I wanted to be -put on shore as quickly as possible. Could he do it? - -"For five francs," the fellow said. - -"All right. Row me over." - -My satchel I left on board to avoid the customs inspection. - -A gangway had already been let down from the side of the steamer, and I -stepped down into the boat with my boatman. Ten minutes later I stood -on the "quai" in Marseilles. In another five minutes I had found a cab -and was on my way to the station. Half an hour later I was seated in a -compartment of an express train for the Riviera. - -A Riviera journey in the darkness.... Toulon flew past--Cannes. In Nice -I could hear even in the railway-train the noise of the carnival which -was nearing its end--the platform was covered with confetti. We reached -Monaco--Monte Carlo, with its brilliantly illuminated casino. - -At last we reached Ventimiglia: the first Italian station! - -It was one o'clock in the morning. I stormed into the telegraph-office -and despatched two telegrams to my two dearest.... - -Free--free again! - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -J'ACCUSE - -Two years after : Shadows of the past : My vision : Public opinion and -the Foreign Legion : The political aspect of the Foreign Legion : The -moralist's point of view : The "Legion question" in a nutshell : A -question the civilised world should have answered long ago : Quousque -tandem...? - - -Two years have passed. - -They were years of fighting and years of toil. Years in which I burnt -much midnight oil, and in which every tiny success meant worlds to me. -My personal attitude towards the Foreign Legion was a rather peculiar -one at first. For several months I forced myself never even to think of -the time when I was in the Legion. Those times should merely be to me a -dim shadow of the past. - -I looked upon them as an ugly page that I should only too gladly have -torn out of the book of my life: since, however, I could not rid myself -of them in this way I avoided ever opening the book at this page.... -But the past which we should like to forget has an unpleasant way of -forcing itself upon us, unbidden and against our will. - -Often as I lay back in my arm-chair in an idle quarter of an hour, -scenes from my life in the Legion mingled dimly with the blue smoke of -my cigarette. An endless procession of legionnaires would pass before -me, a procession of men loaded like beasts of burden, their backs bent -almost double, panting and gasping as they struggled forward in the -sand: I could see their staring eyes, their rounded backs. I felt the -tortures they were undergoing, how they struggled forward till their -last ounce of strength was spent: even their groans were audible to me. -Every one of these men seemed to look at me with hatred. You sit there -in your arm-chair? In an atmosphere of culture? Amongst beautiful -things of art? You belong to us! Off to your place, legionnaire, on the -wing of the first row of fours in the eleventh company. Quick march, -legionnaire, or die! When I spent a golden coin on some amusement I -seemed to see the hands of the legionnaires, trembling claw-like hands, -grasping for my money and trying to rend it from me. Gold! Wealth -unheard of after the miserable coppers of the Legion! Give it to us, -said those fingers, give it to us! Have you forgotten our five -centimes, legionnaire? - -My imagination worried me. - -I gave a part of the story of my life price, and after much hesitation -wrote this book. I have only described the ordinary routine of life in -the regiment of foreigners as I myself experienced it. It is merely a -tiny part of what every legionnaire undergoes. - -I wanted to show the legionnaire--how he lives, and how he must work. I -did not dream of being able to warn foolish young fellows about the -Legion. It is impossible to warn a fool. But I thought, and think -still, that a true and exact description of the French Foreign Legion -would perhaps help to put an end to an institution which is a disgrace -to civilised humanity, and which should be to the civilised nations of -to-day as unintelligible as the slave trade.... And above all I wanted -to get rid of those visions which troubled me. - -In considering the Foreign Legion one must above all be careful not to -go to work with common-places, nor to start from general axioms. The -idea is so prevalent that the soldiers of the Foreign Legion are lost -and ruined men, even criminals--morally and practically useless at -best. A good-for-nothing lot of fellows who are no loss to anybody. - -One is apt to dispose of the legionnaire in a few trite remarks. Men of -learning write from their arm-chairs to the papers about "the hirelings -who have sold themselves into slavery, thus helping to revive the -feudal system of the Middle Ages." If, however, the question were more -closely inquired into, I am sure that it would be found that these -rogues and vagabonds are not, in reality, quite so bad. True, I can -bring forward no positive proof of this. There are no statistics about -the Foreign Legion, and I am in no better position than any other human -being to bring forward authentic material. There are not even official -figures about the strength of the two regiments. I admit, willingly -enough, that a large percentage of the men in the Foreign Legion really -deserve the callous summing up that one is wont to apply to the whole -regiment. All that I have seen and heard in Africa, however, has -convinced me that the other and greater part of the men in the Foreign -Legion are anything but the lost souls one imagines them to be. They -come into the Legion as poor workmen. Their story is the sad one of the -vagabond workman who had to starve on the French high road, because he -could not speak the language. It is these men who have always formed -the heart of the Foreign Legion. It is the pangs of hunger that drives -men into the Foreign Legion--French and English, Germans and Italians, -Spaniards and Austrians, men of all countries, men of all races. Yes, -hunger is a most efficient recruiting sergeant for the Foreign Legion. - -The hungry man who seeks a refuge in the Foreign Legion gets, it is -true, his daily bread; he is, all the same, disgracefully swindled. It -cannot be repeated often enough how hard the legionnaire has to work, -how miserable his existence is, how he gives his whole strength for a -wage that is not worth mentioning. We are so practical in our modern -ideas of life; every workman knows well enough the exact value of his -work in the current coin of the realm, and takes advantage of every -opportunity of getting a higher wage. And, in an age which is ever -improving the standard of living, and which has so absolutely changed -the ideas of the poorer classes, how is it possible that a business -concern like the Foreign Legion--it is really nothing but a business -concern, a commercial undertaking--can always get hundreds and -thousands of labourer-soldiers, for a wage compared with which the -wages of the tiniest village are riches? - -The results are startling when one compares the Foreign Legion with the -world's two other mercenary armies, those of America and England, both -of which countries, by-the-by, take great care to keep up a certain -moral standard among their soldiers. These two armies, in sharp -contrast to the Foreign Legion, pay their soldiers exceptionally well. -The least that an American regular receives is thirteen dollars a -month; the English Tommy gets a shilling a day. And these are soldiers -and not workmen. They are mercenaries, like the legionnaire, but at any -rate they are well-paid mercenaries. - -The miserable wages, together with the existing conditions of life in -the Legion, are enough to convince even a Frenchman that the existence -of the Foreign Legion is a sin against the very first principles of -humanity--and has been for eighty years. In the sand of Algeria, in the -swamps of Madagascar, in the fever-pested plains of Tonquin, in the -valleys of Mexico, there lie these men of every nation, these men who -have died in the Foreign Legion, who have sold their lives for their -rations and five centimes a day. - -If one leaves the dead in peace and only considers the living, one -reaches the same conclusion: robbery, and robbery of the destitute at -that! A sin against every principle of humanity! Oh, thrice accursed -Legion: forcing inexperienced young fellows into its ranks, who would -never join did they know what lies before them; absolutely callous as -to the value of human life, forcing its soldiers to conditions of life -which must ruin their health for ever! - -It is not for this alone that the Legion is answerable. It is also -answerable for the vices of the Legion, for it is the life in the -Legion that has brought the tiny seeds of these vices to full bloom. - - * * * * * - -About the political aspect of the Foreign Legion there can be no two -opinions. - -The Foreign Legion is an antiquated, ridiculously out-of-date survival -of the feudal system of the Middle Ages, with all the disadvantages of -the mercenary system, but without the romantic halo which in days gone -by hung around the soldiers of fortune. - -According to modern ideas, it is absolutely monstrous that one of the -most cultured nations of the world should have in its pay a corps -composed of men of all nationalities, and who are, as is generally -acknowledged, very often foreign deserters, who enlist to save -themselves from starvation. Their colours bear the unsatisfying motto, -"Valeur et Discipline." The inscription on the national flag, "Honneur -et Patrie"--"For Honour and our Country"--could hardly be given to -these "mixed pickles." But these two words, "Valeur" and "Discipline," -are pregnant with meaning. Comparisons with the English and American -armies are not only of interest as far as the pay is concerned; there -is in all respects a vast difference between these two armies and the -Foreign Legion. Only men of British birth can join the British army. -The American army takes foreigners into its ranks, but only those who -possess the so-called first papers, _i.e._, have sworn before a -magistrate that they intend to become American citizens after the -prescribed five years. The American mercenary is looked upon as an -American citizen and has to take the oath of allegiance. The Foreign -Legion, on the other hand, knows no oath at all. The printed bit of -paper that the recruit for the Foreign Legion signs is merely a -contract, a statement of the conditions of service. This contract is -the only chain which fetters the legionnaire to the Legion--a contract -which, according to every one of our modern ideas of international law, -is null and void. To-day, in international law, contracts opposed to -public morality are much talked about, and what could be more immoral -in every sense of the word than this contract that the French Republic -makes with its recruits, this contract in which what is got out of a -man and what he is paid stand in such an unsatisfying relation to each -other. - -As I have said before, there can be no two opinions about the Foreign -Legion. Every one with sound ideas of political economy must agree that -it is an unheard-of condition of affairs when a nation is allowed to -receive the deserters and criminals--I speak now of that other half of -the Foreign Legion--of the States surrounding it, indeed from all the -States in the world, with open arms, and to make use of them on -principle for a special military organisation. One cannot speak too -strongly about this transaction, which is a piece of military -blackguardism with something more than despicable about it. And not -only the feudalism of the Middle Ages survives in the Foreign Legion -but also the morals of those times, when a poor devil enlisted because -he did not know of anything better to do with his life: of those times -when a deserter was valued because he made a pair of arms and legs the -less in the opposing force. In the Foreign Legion's enlistment bureaux -a recruit gets a special welcome when he announces that he is a -deserter, and is then looked upon as a really valuable addition to the -corps. It is also a fact that France offers sanctuary to all criminals -who fly from justice. The Foreign Legion will only give up -murderers--every other kind of criminal is safe there. And France's -selfish reason for this is that she can thereby fill the ranks of a -regiment that is always fighting for France and which is always ready -to do the hardest work for her in the most unhealthy climates. The -average Frenchman has, during the Legion's eighty years of existence, -contented himself with attributing the successes of the Foreign Legion -to the French flag, and has always looked upon the Foreign Legion as a -profitable and patriotic institution. It is only quite of late that the -Foreign Legion has come to be looked upon in France as a problem. -To-day the Foreign Legion is not an institution that every Frenchman -considers quite in the natural order of things. Even the French -Ministry of War has busied itself with the "Legion problem." It could -not, however, quite make up its mind to give up the Legion. The -possibility of employing a soldier who receives five centimes a day, -and who can be made use of for all sorts of dangerous undertakings in -the worst of climates, is too great a temptation. - -Perhaps the real reason for this tenacity is that France, who is so -proud of her military traditions, finds it hard to bring herself to -dissolve a corps which has been in existence for more than eighty years -and which has been led by many a famous general and marshal of France. - -It has been suggested that it would be a good idea to change the method -of recruiting. Passports should be demanded to make sure that the -recruit had not got into trouble with the authorities of his own -country. Deserters from the armies of other countries should on no -condition be accepted. - -There is a diversity of opinion about these suggestions in French -military circles. One party asserts that with the deserters the Foreign -Legion would lose the flower of its strength, the soldiers who have -been trained in other armies. The other side urges that if the pay were -raised and the time the men must serve in order to qualify for a -pension shortened, the adventurous life in the Foreign Legion and the -hope of promotion would always bring more than enough good stuff from -all nations for service under the Legion's flag. In these debates the -military point of view is the only one of importance and since, -considered from this point of view, the Legion has always borne itself -splendidly, things have been left as they were. All suggestions for a -change in the organisation of the Legion have naturally been made very -quietly. All the same the Legion has, of late, come very much before -the public in France. - -There is no doubt that they are beginning to look at the Foreign Legion -a little critically in France. The number of those who doubt that the -country is right in keeping up this barbarous institution is growing -daily. Referring to the great mutiny of the soldiers of the Legion at -Saida, Jaures wrote in the _Humanite_: - -"The Foreign Legion will doubtless be a source of everlasting -difficulty to us; the idea of forming a body of troops for the French -army from foreign deserters is at any rate an unusual one." - -This is a step in the right direction. They are beginning to talk about -the problem of the Foreign Legion. Its existence is no longer -considered absolutely natural. The question has been raised. If the -Foreign Legion did not exist, and some member of the French parliament -were to suggest the formation of a corps of foreign mercenaries, -preferably foreign deserters, the suggestion would doubtless be -received with indignation. The tactless politician would be sure to be -confronted with the somewhat obvious remark that it would be unworthy -of the dignity of France to gather a band of foreigners under the -tricolour to defend French soil. One would hear some very pretty -speeches on the subject. That sort of thing can be tolerated in the -Balkan States or in Venezuela or Honduras, but not in our proud France. -Some deputy or other would be certain to warn the nation--the warning -is a very obvious one--that other States could institute Foreign -Legions, filling their ranks with French deserters. Think of the -shudder that would pass through the land at the idea of English ships -manned by, or German colonies conquered by, French deserters. - -... The Foreign Legion lives upon its past. The Frenchman is accustomed -to it and hardly notices what an anachronism it is. - -The problem of the Legion is so easy. It can be divided into two -questions: - -Is it fair to pay a man who works really hard a daily wage of five -centimes? - -Is it fair to make use of a poor devil's misfortunes, or the fact that -he has got into trouble with the authorities of his native land, in -this way for national purposes? - -The answer to these questions is not difficult. - -In later years especially, the French Government has made a clean sweep -of many French institutions that seemed to be incompatible with the -fair fame of France. One can be quite sure that it will in course of -time be recognised that the Foreign Legion must be done away with. - -One is only tempted to ask: How long will it last? - -_Quousque tandem...?_ - - - Printed by BALLANTYNE & CO. 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