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Methuen's Colonial Library
A MODERN LEGIONARY
UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME
A FRONTIERSMAN
By Roger Pocock
A
MODERN LEGIONARY
BY
JOHN PATRICK LE POER
METHUEN & CO.
36 ESSEX STREET W.C.
LONDON
1904
_Colonial Library_
A MODERN LEGIONARY
CHAPTER I
On a January morning in the early eighties I found myself in Paris
with less than a dozen francs in my purse, or rather my pockets, for I
have always had a habit of distributing my money between waistcoat and
trousers, so that if one pocket be picked the contents of the others
may have a chance of remaining still in my possession.
How I arrived in Paris is easily explained. After two years and a
half in a boarding-school I had become so tired of its monotonous
routine and, indeed, of the idleness which prevailed there--for the
masters never tried to teach, and, naturally, the boys never tried to
learn--that I resolved, when the Christmas vacation came to an end,
to leave my home in the south of Ireland and seek my fortune through
the world. Accordingly, instead of going back to school, I set out
for Dublin, whence I started for London by the first boat. In London
I spent a day, and then came on to Paris, filled with vague hopes and
vaguer misgivings as to my future. Thus it happened that I at the age
of sixteen was walking the streets of Paris on the 6th of January 188-.
I considered anxiously what lay before me. I could not go home, even
if pride did not forbid. True, I could write for money, having enough
to maintain myself until it came, but that would be too great a
humiliation. To dig I was not able, and to beg I was ashamed, so I saw
but one course open to me--to enlist. Having made up my mind, which I
did the more easily as I had been brought up in a garrison town, and
like most boys loved to follow the soldiers in their bright uniforms
and to march along with head erect, keeping step to the music of the
band, I at once set about carrying my resolve into effect. I was not
long in beginning. As I walked along the streets I saw a soldier with a
gold chevron on his arm, and, going across the road, I addressed him. I
did not speak French very well, but had something more than the usual
schoolboy knowledge of it, as I had read a good many French books and
papers when I should have been at Greek or Mathematics in the study
hall. Very soon, therefore, he learned my purpose, and a conversation
ensued, somewhat as follows:--
"You are English; is it not so?"
"No; I am Irish, from the south of Ireland."
"Very well, my friend; but you must go to the Foreign Legion, and that
will not be very pleasant, you may well believe. Always in Algeria,
except when serving in Tonquin and other devil's colonies on the earth."
"I do not mind that; in the English army one has to go to India and
South Africa, so what matter?"
"Ah! and you are doubtless without money, and one has to live."
"Let us go in here," said I, pointing to a wine shop. "We can talk
better over a glass."
"Good comrade! good comrade!" he cried, slapping me on the shoulder;
"I see that you will be a soldier after my own heart. Have no fear,"
he continued; "I will tell you all, and you may rely on me as a loyal
friend."
When we entered the shop my new-found friend asked me whether I should
drink _eau-de-vie_ or _vin ordinaire_, and, on my refusing the brandy,
commended my discretion, saying that young soldiers should never touch
brandy as it interfered with their chances of promotion, and, moreover,
they did not usually have money enough to pay for it. Thereupon he
called for _eau-de-vie_ for himself and some wine, rather sour I
thought it, for his young friend, and when we had clinked glasses and
drunk, our conversation was resumed.
I shall not try to reproduce the dialogue, which would, indeed,
be wearisome, as we sat and talked for full two hours, with many
repetitions. During this time I drank little, and the sergeant, though
he had his glass filled more than once, took no more than he could
safely bear. One thing I must say of him, that although he painted
the soldier's life in glowing colours yet he always kept me in mind
of the fact that he spoke of the French army in general and his own
regiment in particular. What he said had no reference to the Foreign
Legion. That corps was not to be compared to his. There were in it men
who had fled from justice; from Russia, though, indeed, the offences
of these were in most cases political; from Germany, and yet many were
Alsatians and Lorrainers who wished to become French citizens; from
Austria, Belgium, Spain; from every country in the world. And, whatever
their crimes had been, they were of a surety being punished, for their
stations were on the borders of the great desert, where were sand and
sun and tedium so great that an Arab raid was a pleasant relief.
"But there were French soldiers also there, were there not?"
"Oh yes; the zephyrs, the bad ones who could not be reclaimed to duty,
to discipline, or even to decency, and who were sent to form what one
might call convict battalions in places to which no one wished to send
good soldiers--men who respected themselves and the flag."
"But the Foreign Legion could not be always in Algeria, on the borders
of the desert?"
"Oh no; there were many of them in Tonquin on active service, and
these, of course, were just as well or as ill-off as the regular French
troops, but still they were rascals, though, he would confess, very
good fighting men. There was a war in Tonquin against great bands of
marauders who carried a variety of flags, by the colours of which they
were known: I must have heard of the principal ones--the infamous
Black Flags, who gave no quarter to the wounded and who mutilated the
dead. These were helped by the regular Chinese soldiers, and had among
them many Europeans, dogs that they were, who gave them advice and
instruction, because these Europeans were Prussians or English who
hated the great French Republic and viewed its expansion with dislike
and distrust."
"But was there not a good chance of promotion in the Legion?"
"Oh yes; if one did one's duty and willingly obeyed orders and did not
get into trouble. Oh yes; there was always justice for the good as
well as for the bad. If one was not a corporal in five years there was
little use in staying; one could take his discharge and go away."
That decided me. I was sixteen--in five years I should be
twenty-one--better spend the time learning experience in the world
than in the dull, dreary idleness to which I was accustomed, and which
filled me with disgust. I said so to the sergeant. He looked me up and
down, and said:
"How old?"
"Sixteen," I replied.
"You cannot enlist; the recruit must be at least eighteen."
I thought a moment. "I will be eighteen; they cannot see the registers
of my parish."
"Very well, very well, my son; you are resolved. I will say no more to
prevent you--I will help you--you shall be a soldier of the Republic
to-morrow."
He kept his word. We spent the day together; he showed me his barrack,
his room in it, where to dine and sleep, and leaving me at nine
o'clock, with a parting injunction to meet him at eight in the morning
at the barrack gate, went away saying:
"Poor devil! poor devil!"
On the following morning at ten minutes to eight I was at the gate.
Indeed, I might easily have been there at six, but as the morning was
cold and nothing could be gained by being out and about too soon I
remained snugly between the sheets until seven. Punctually at eight
the sergeant appeared, and we walked towards one another smiling. I
asked him to join me at breakfast. He readily consented, and soon we
were seated together in a small restaurant before a table at which we
appeased the hunger induced by the sharp morning air with eggs, bread
and butter, and coffee. Breakfast over, the sergeant asked, as he said,
for the last time, if I were still resolved to join the Foreign Legion.
I replied that I was, if I should be accepted.
"Very good; we have half-an-hour, let us walk about until it is time to
meet the doctor."
While strolling through the streets he gave me much advice. I was to be
respectful, alert, step smartly, and, above all, be observant.
"Watch the others," he said, "and you will very soon learn soldiers'
manners."
I promised to do so, and reminded him that I had grown two years older
in a single night. He smiled, and said encouragingly:
"Good child! good child!--alas! poor devil!"
I asked him what he meant by alluding to me as a poor devil, and again
he abused the Foreign Legion with a vocabulary as insulting as it was
extensive. I had never heard or read one-tenth of the words, but it was
not hard to guess the meaning. I stopped him by laying my hand upon his
arm, and said:
"You forget that I may be one of the Foreign Legion before noon."
"True, true; but I do not apply the expressions to you, only to those
who are already there." And he pointed with his finger towards the
south.
"Very good; but surely not to all? What can you say against the
political refugees from Russia?"
"Ah! they are different; they----"
I stopped him again, and said:
"And what can you say against a political refugee from Ireland?"
"Ah, ah! I understand; now I see clearly. Oh, my friend, why did you
not tell me yesterday?"
From that moment he believed me, a schoolboy of sixteen, to be a head
centre of the Fenians, or at least a prominent member of some Irish
league. This belief had consequences shortly afterwards, pleasant and
unpleasant, but we live down our sorrows as, unfortunately, we live
down our joys.
Well, soon it was time to "meet the doctor," so we went towards the
barrack, and passing the gate approached a portion of the square where
about twelve men in civil dress were already assembled. I was told
that these also were would-be recruits, not all, however, for the
Foreign Legion, as some were Frenchmen who volunteered at as early
an age as possible instead of waiting to be called up. Not far off a
small party of _sous-officiers_ stood, criticising the recruits, and
laughing sarcastically at an occasional witticism. These the sergeant
joined, and I was at leisure to observe my companions. They were of
all sorts and conditions. One, a tall man with white hands, at least
I saw that the right one was white, but the left one was gloved, who
wore a silk hat, frock coat, and excellently got-up linen, looked
rather superciliously at us all. Another, in a workman's blouse and
dirt-covered trousers and boots, had his hands in his pockets, and,
curving his shoulders, looked intently at the ground. A third,
about eighteen, in a schoolboy's cap and jacket, was humming the
Marseillaise; he was a French lad who _would_ be a soldier. There was
a dark-browed man, a Spaniard as I learnt afterwards, tugging at his
small moustache; a few others whom I have forgotten; and, lastly,
standing somewhat apart from the crowd, three or four medium-sized,
heavily-built men, with the look of the farm about them, and, indeed,
the smell of it too, who proved to be Alsatians.
I was still engaged in observing the others when a door was thrown
open, and we were all ordered into a large room on the ground floor
of a building, over the entrance to which were painted some words
which I now forget. Here we had to strip to shirt and trousers, but
as there was a stove in the place, and the windows and doors were
closed, that did not hurt too much. After a short delay the tall man
was summoned, and left the room by a door opposite to that by which
we had entered. Others were called afterwards, and I, as it happened,
was the last. As I passed out the sergeant--I forgot to mention that
he and the other _sous-officiers_ had come in with us, and all had
spoken encouragingly to me, having been told that I was a rebel against
"perfide Albion"--the sergeant, I say, tapped me on the shoulder, and
said:
"Have no fear, be quiet, respectful, attentive, good lad."
I thanked him with a nod and a smile and passed in. I now found myself
in a smaller room, where an old soldier with a long grey moustache--I
thought at once of the old guard--gruffly bade me take off my shirt
and trousers. I did so, and felt a slight shiver--it was January--as I
stood naked on the floor. I had scarcely finished shivering when the
schoolboy came from the doctor's room looking as happy and proud as
a king on his coronation day. It was quite evident that he had been
accepted, and already his early dreams of military renown seemed on the
point of realisation. Poor devil! as the sergeant said of me. I met
him afterwards twice; the first time he was a prisoner under guard for
some offence, the second time he was calling out huskily for water in
the delirium before death.
As he went towards his clothing I entered the apartment he had just
left It was a large white-walled room, with a couple of chairs and
tables, a desk and stool, and a weighing machine in a corner, as its
chief furniture. A couple of soldiers were present, but evidently the
chief personage in the room was a tall, thin man with a hooked nose
and sharp grey eyes, whose moustache bristled out on each side. He was
dressed in uniform, and wore some decorations, but I cannot recall more
than that now. I doubt, indeed, if I ever fully grasped how he was
dressed--his eyes attracted my attention so much.
A few questions were asked--my name, age, country, occupation, and
others--which were answered by me at once and shortly. I did not forget
the sergeant's advice. Then followed a most careful observation of my
body. My height and weight were noted, as well as other things which I
did not understand. I remember I had to breathe deeply, and then hold
my breath as long as I could, to jump, to hop, and to go through every
form of work of which the human body or any part of it is capable. My
eyes were examined in various ways, and there was not a region of my
person left unexplored by the stethoscope or by the bony fingers of
my examiner. All the while he called out various words and sentences,
just as a tailor calls out while he measures you for a suit of clothes,
and a soldier at the desk took them down. The other soldier acted as
his chief's assistant, covering my right eye with his hand while the
left one was being tested, holding a stick for me to jump and hop over,
putting on the weights while I was on the machine, and doing all these
things at a nod or other sign from the doctor.
At last the examination was over. The doctor took the sheet of blue
paper on which the soldier at the desk had been writing, and, looking
alternately at it and at me, seemed carefully considering. I stood
erect, hands by my sides, looking steadily and respectfully at him. It
was very quiet. After some time he said:
"How old are you?" (in English, with just a trace of an accent). I
waited a moment, but that moment was enough.
"Eighteen, sir."
Had I answered on the spot he would have learned the truth. He paused
a little, still keeping his eyes on me, and then, slightly lifting his
eyelids, asked:
"Seventeen?"
"No, sir," I replied; "eighteen to-day."
"When and where were you born?"
"Seventh of January, sir, in the year ----, and at the town of ----, in
the south of Ireland."
He still gazed at me in doubt, but I met his gaze steadily. Suddenly a
door opened--not the one through which I had come--and a short, stout,
bustling man, dressed in blue coat and red trousers, with a gold-laced
cap on his head, came in and, glancing carelessly at me, shook hands
warmly with the doctor. In the conversation which ensued it was
apparent by their glances and gestures that I had more than my share of
their attention. Finally they approached, and the short man asked me
my age. I replied as before. Turning sharp round he said with a merry
smile, which ended in a short, quick laugh:
"Oh, my friend, he is eighteen; he says so, and who knows better? Would
you destroy the enthusiasm of a volunteer by doubting his word? My fine
fellow"--this to me--"you will be eighteen before you leave us."
That settled it I was accepted, sent away to dress, and, as I had said
to the sergeant, before noon I was a sworn member of the Foreign
Legion, sworn in for five years.
The swearing-in was not impressive. All I remember about it is that in
a room with a very wide door an officer in a gold-laced cap sat at a
table, repeated a form of words which I in turn repeated, holding up
my right hand the while, and then I kissed a book tendered to me by a
_sous-officier_. Some questions were asked, and I answered, telling
the truth, as, indeed, I had told the truth all through, except about
my age, and also except about the insinuation that I was a political
refugee.
That night I slept in the barrack. About eighteen or twenty other
recruits for the Foreign Legion occupied a large room with me. We
were of all countries in Europe, but the Alsatians outnumbered the
representatives of any other, and next to them came the Belgians and
Lorrainers. A couple of Poles, a Russian, a Hungarian, a Croat, the
Spaniard whom I have already mentioned, and myself completed the list.
We looked at one another rather suspiciously at first, but after some
time we became more sociable, and tried to explain, each in his own
execrable French, how we had come to enlist, and it struck me that,
if all were to be believed, my comrades were the most unfortunate
and persecuted set of honest men that the sun had ever shone upon. I
changed my opinion in the morning when I found that the last franc I
had, nay the last sou, had been taken from my pockets during the night,
but what was the use of complaining? It was a lesson I had to learn,
therefore the sooner I learned it the better, and it was well that I
learned it at no greater expense than a couple of francs. When we got a
blue tunic, red trousers, and kepi, with boots and other things, I sold
my civilian clothes to a Jew for one-tenth of their original cost, and
that money did not leave my possession without my consent. I did not
spend it all upon myself, but neither did I spend it indiscriminately,
a jolly Belgian and the Russian had most of the benefit.
A little circumstance occurred which at first gave me great pleasure,
though afterwards its effects were rather serious, at least in my
opinion at the time. I had not been an hour in the room when the
sergeant came and gave me some tobacco and a small bottle of wine. I
insisted on his sharing the latter; as for the tobacco, that went in
the night along with my money. I saw some very like it afterwards with
one of the Poles. When going he shook hands warmly, bade me be of good
courage, and was about turning away when someone, an Alsatian, I think,
jostled against him. Immediately the flood-gates of his eloquence were
opened, he cursed and swore, and that not alone at the cause of his
anger but also at others who were near. No reply was made, and he went
away, still cursing and fuming with anger. How this event affected me
will be told in due course; suffice it to say that, young as I was, I
saw that his evident partiality for me and his undoubted contempt for
the others would likely bring unpleasant results before long.
In two days our numbers had increased to about thirty, and we were
despatched to Algeria under the orders of a sergeant and two corporals.
During the journey we learned a little more about discipline, but all
that and the journey itself must wait for a new chapter.