In the Foreign Legion

: The brutality of the marches : The légionnaire and the staff doctor : My fight for an opiate : The

ime was over, and I was

s duties were a pleasure to me, and like the other légionnaires who daily debated the cha

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

es le

nds from room to room when the Legion mobilises, the dry busi

t of the Legion, as inseparable from it as p

f my sleep in a fright. "Aux armes!" the bugle sounded from the barrack-yard. The serg

perfect pandemonium-shouting and yelling and roaring so

d'Afrique," the corporals shouted,

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 cartrid

red Corporal

ot dream of working up enthusiasm for an ordinary "marche militaire." In this case the short man?uvre march really extended over three hundred kilometres-t

d ammunition carts were packed, because the Legion always carries sharp ammunition on the march t

rhythm broken by the bugles' storm signal. The Legion's band is forbidden to play it in 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 m

ummers plodded along close behind our captain's white horse. Abreast of the

s trying for my burning curiosity,

oing to, Lieute

early burst w

my boy. We are marching. We are probably marching for a long time. We are always marching. We never know

ghing and Smith was sho

foi, toujo

to and how long the march would last. Some of them thought it was nothing but

a grin. "Nothing. We march, sonny, and that's all there is

pot on the uniform of the rider, sparkling like a star. The rider was the Commander-General

middle of the night you may send your little legs a message to get ready for a lot of work. Now we shall mar

amped onwards. The knapsack pressed heavily; heads went down and shoulders bent low to spread the heavy weight on the back; the gun-straps cut

th 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

of rest seemed so delicious, so beneficial, so reviving as when I lay stre

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 utte

own 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 bl

ast milestone said that we were fifty kilometres from Sidi-bel-Abbès. We passed by the old rickety houses of the village, and

"Halt!" and immediately aft

d 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

ent encampment and five minutes afterwards the officers' tents were pitched in a final row. In the meantime Madame la Cantinière had hauled out of her sutler's cart folding tables and benches, ready to do

p fires flared up simultaneously. The patrol marched round and round the white "sold

irmly 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

the whole camp was fast asleep,

escribed. 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 ord

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 légionnaire 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

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 t

f a little change and excitement in the terribly monotonous life on the border stations. But upon the Arab woman the old légionnaire looks as upon a devil. He thinks of the hellish

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 th

f 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 wh

rnation of the Devil. I have already recorded the story of the soldier with the skull t

use, 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

no sick men. Your comp

oulders. "By order of the ca

octor tur

's wr

that I only wished to ask for something to relieve the pain,

a moment, and then

ates? To judge from your ac

r le docteur

u're English, German or Hottentot, I take you to be quite a common simulator. I s

d up with pain. "Not sick!" That meant not only the loss of an opiate, but also heavy punishment. Any one who is declare

ted an

ur le docteur? With

d the surgeon. "

ut 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 gr

t been punis

N

reason of you

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

stened to me q

er for you to the assistant surgeon, who will give you medicine.

fter a

nt? We are in the Legion. You are a légion

opinions in language unheard of in the Legion, I should very likel

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 oc

e few minutes of exhausted rest. An

r fire, are things which, in the never-ending practical military training of this fighting regiment, become part and parcel of the légionnaire's flesh and blood. The closing man?uvre 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

ever called him anything else but the "marching pig." The fat serg

ee the fellow I

nce met a drunken légionnaire in one of the side streets of Sidi-bel-Abbès. T

ered, "I am still very thir

reated him to

ed the légionnaire sober in a momen

est marcher in my co

smiled and gave hi

of the great weight laid on the marching performances in the Foreign Legion, without regard to

everything in his power for his troops. Each légionnaire 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 légionnaire stumble

h or

e common; they are the basis on which the Foreign Legion has won its la

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 Légion," which for a mere nothing saps the life from thousands of human creatures. It

e rations consisted almost entirely of rice, and to the hardships of the daily 40 kilometres

en 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. Man

in of over-exertion, bodily and mental nerve-sickness. The Foreign Legion has

upidities, excesses and crimes which tormented nerves can commit. The English language has no word for this condition. In "cafard" murder hides,

ng 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 c

pt up his private harem with the funds of the company was one of the most harmless, and with th

ut into the still night, until the camp became lively. With many oaths the sentries tu

in front of the guard-tent over the night, to give them a chance to c

bbès, our uniforms and our spi