In the Foreign Legion

eant is not pleased : A final fight with pride : The jokes of the Legion : The wise negro : Bugler Smith

borderland between sleeping and waking. The bugle bothered me. The sounds were familiar, but my sleep

n army. No, there could be no mistake-one never forgets the quick nerv

t get

t get

'em up in

t get

t get

get 'em

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 c

et 'em up

g 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 pe

The "get 'em up" signals of the French an

ion, 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 ra

t 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

ith men in the uniform of the Foreign Legion. At the primitive little platform gate s

s and we fell in line to ma

'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-Abbès, 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 anima

s. The white splendour of a mosque shone from afar. On the balcony of its high minaret a Mohammedan priest in flowing white robes slowly w

llah.... G

heir 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 we

the guard was sitting. They stared at us, grinning stupidly. Their sergeant, with his hands in pockets and a cigarette betwe

s, 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 m

windows were thrown open, and légion

us! Bonjour

ed. Hundreds of légionnaires gathered around us, while we were waiting for orders in front of the regimental offices. The contrast between the snow

h to eat, eh?" someb

sm. "You didn't come to the Legion because you had too much

another asked. "Merde!" said he, as no

ion stalked up to me, regarding me dubiously, shaking h

?" he aske

I do,"

d-- fool! Doucement, doucement, white man-now, don't get mad. Y

n struck me. Besides, I al

come here for?

ryding 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

hat befor

sonny. Wait a bit, white man. I'se going to tell

dly away. One of the recruits hailed from Munich. He w

he beer, eh? Isn't it bad enough if one Munich fool drinks their sticky old wine? Why, I've almost forgotten how a 'Masskrug' l

from the city of beer and "Steins" when an

? You must sell it, you know, and you w

"Why do you want my c

ld 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 s

urse. 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 determine

ave them a

is 'verdammte' Legion," said the man. He was a German, a P

ery appropriate name) had come back, with a bugler wh

erican?" the

f of me is

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

n-of-an-old-trumpet!

uld ask you whether you had any preference, tell him you would like to be assigned to the eleventh. That's

y other American

t of the Legion in Saida has thirteen or fourteen American légionnaires. Two of them are sergeants, and one is colour-serg

sergeant, coming out of the re

orms, 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 légionnaires in the cold African nights. Soap and towels the sergeant-major also distributed, remarking that we seemed to be badly in nee

d wash! Be sure you

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

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

t 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 profe

ber of the Foreign Legion. Our names mattered noth

penitentiaries. It was just the same in the Legion. I had got what I wanted. The grea