Of course, the affair did not altogether end with the reconciliation of
the companies. Punishment had to be awarded to both, and as ours was
the more guilty one we received more than the men of No. 4. As so many
were included it was obviously impossible to punish us in any of the
ordinary ways, but we got extra drills, extra duties, unnecessary most
of them, and in addition each of the companies had to furnish all the
guards and pickets for the little camp on alternate days. This relieved
the Turcos and those of our men who had not been in the fight, but it
was very hard for us others to do double drill and double fatigue, let
us say on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and on Tuesdays, Thursdays,
and Saturdays to be on sentry or on picket during the day and to sleep
in our clothes, with only a greatcoat to cover us, during the night.
And even then there was no chance of sleeping much, for when night
fell one of the sections was on guard and outlying picket for two
hours, and then the other relieved the first for the next two. Thus,
if my section went on duty at eight o'clock in the evening after, be
it well understood, doing our fair share of guard and camp-picket work
from eight in the morning, we were relieved at ten for a little rest,
went on again at midnight, and were relieved at two; took up the duty
once more at four, and remained on until six, and then we had two
hours to get our morning coffee and clean up our things to come off
guard at eight. You might think that it was hardest on the officers,
sergeants, and corporals; but no, only one officer and one-third of the
_sous-officiers_ mounted guard on any morning, so that all of these got
five nights in bed out of every six, whereas we, the troublesome ones,
got only one night in every two.
We bore it well enough, however, though I must admit that we used bad
language occasionally, but, as there were so many of us included in the
punishment, no one minded it so much as if he were the only delinquent.
It helps a man wonderfully to bear hardship and disgrace when he sees
many others undergoing the same misfortunes as himself, and this is the
rule even though he does not wish evil to his comrades in distress. One
man on a sinking raft will in all probability go mad before it takes
its final plunge beneath the waves; a dozen men similarly situated will
have less fear of the great deep and the great unknown, because each
is, as it were, consoled by the knowledge that others too must pass
through the grim portals of death at the same time and place and by
the same means as he. Thus it was that, though we grumbled and cursed
one minute, the next we laughed and rallied one another; and we had,
moreover, one great consolation--we knew that the story would rapidly
run through the Legion, and that our good comrades, 8000 in number,
would laugh with fierce delight when they heard of the encounter and
its causes, and would admire and envy the men who had the spirit and
the devilment to provide such a relief from _ennui_ in the little camp
on the border of the desert. We eagerly figured to ourselves how they
would gloat over the story of the Cooloolie girl and her lovers--the
handsome Greek and the passionate Portuguese; we knew how they would
envy Nicholas and his money; we felt quite certain that the story would
go down to succeeding legionaries with embelishments, as was natural,
and finally become one of the best-loved traditions of the corps. It
is still too early to call it a tradition; but, take my word for it,
the fight between the two companies at Three Fountains is talked of
to-day in many a barrack-room, in many a lonely village round an oasis
in the Sahara, over many a camp and watch fire, in many a canteen and
cabaret, where the _vieux soldats_ pull their grey moustaches and tell
the eager-eyed recruits over the _eau-de-vie_ and the _vin ordinaire_
the wonderful story of what happened when a Cooloolie girl changed her
lover and a Russian prince, in exile and disgrace, received thousands
of francs from a friend, "most likely a woman, _mes enfants_," in
Europe and spent it as a soldier should. Ay, even the officers are
proud of the story to-day, and, when they go to France on leave, our
little escapade is told in the family circle and to all the friends
and relations who are continually asking for tales of _ces affreux
légionnaires_.
I had almost forgotten another part of our punishment. While all the
others turned out for parade without knapsacks, those of us who had
been in the affray had to appear in heavy marching order, as English
soldiers say--that is, with all our _buffleterie_, knapsack, and
pouches on our persons. In fact, looking at us one would imagine that
we were just about to start on a campaign. Another thing was that
Nicholas, Le Grand, and I, as to all appearance the ringleaders in the
affair, were not allowed to stir out of the camp or even to go much
through it; a sergeant or a corporal would quickly order us back to
our own quarters, if we were seen at any distance from them. Moreover,
we three lost all our pay; but that made little difference, it was not
much anyway, and our comrades gave us as much tobacco as we wanted and
as much wine as we really cared about or they could spare.
While we were thus getting a foretaste of purgatory, into the camp
one sultry afternoon rode the colonel of the regiment. That evening
he spent in talking to the officers and examining some sergeants and
corporals, who were believed to have most knowledge of the quarrel and
of those engaged in it, especially the corporals who commanded the
squads in which the Russian, Le Grand, and I were. Le Grand, I have
already said, did not belong to our squad, not even to our section.
Next morning at six a company of Turcos relieved No. 4 Company, which
had been on guard and outlying picket all the night, and at seven,
immediately after the morning coffee, the two companies of legionaries
were formed up in line first and inspected, and then in column of
sections, No. 1 section of mine being the front, and No. 2 of No. 4
Company the rear, of the half-battalion. While in this formation we
were addressed by the colonel of the regiment. I cannot give a detailed
account here of what he said; all I remember is that he abused,
threatened and cursed us for nearly half-an-hour. We did not mind that,
however, as we were case-hardened enough already; but what we did mind
was the Parthian shaft he let fly as he turned to leave the ground:
"Remember, remember well, that all the punishment has not been endured;
when the commandant is satisfied I shall wish to be satisfied too." To
say truth, then, he frightened us.
When we were dismissed from parade, we indulged in many gloomy
speculations as to the extra punishment awaiting us. We knew, or rather
guessed, two things at once--first, that the extra fatigues and guards
would soon be discontinued, for our officers were not likely to make
us disgusted with our duties, because we should then become careless,
and who could foretell what danger might arise from the inattention
of a sentry or the unwilling response to orders on the part of an
advance-guard? Secondly, we quite understood that very soon we should
turn our backs on Three Fountains, where everything kept us from
forgetting the dispute and the fight, especially the little mound at
the eastern side of the camp, that marked the last resting-place of the
Greek and the Portuguese and our other comrades who had fallen--an ugly
reminder of an ugly fray. As soon, therefore, as other white troops
could be sent to our camp we should pack and march--the question was,
whither? Now, there are many bad stations in the south of Algeria.
There are places where one may often not wash his face and hands for
a week, so scarce is water there. To do the French Government justice,
these places are usually held by native troops who do not mind thirst
and dirt so much as Europeans, but it was well known that white men
had on more than one occasion been sent to such stations and kept
there until they almost despaired of ever becoming civilised again.
Moreover, in these spots there is a great lack of other things besides
water; there is no wine save that which comes to the officers; there
is only the tobacco sold to one by the Government. Worst of all, a
woman must be very much in love or very ugly before she will consent
to follow a man thither. These are the suicide stations, if I may call
them so--the stations where a shot rings out in the night and all rush
to arms, fearing an attack of Touareks or Kabyles, but when dawn comes
there is only a dead sentry making black the yellow sand at a post.
When one man shoots himself an epidemic seems to set in; men hear every
day in hut or tent or guard room the ill-omened report; soon they go
about looking fearfully at one another, for no one knows but that he is
looking into the eyes of a comrade who has made up his mind to die. The
corporal counts his squad, "fourteen, fifteen--ah! there were sixteen
yesterday," so he says; he thinks: How long until I have only fourteen,
and who will be the next man to quit _la gamelle_?
We thought of all these things during the day, and we noted, more with
anxiety than relief, that for us there were no drills or fatigues. My
company was, indeed, warned to be ready to relieve the Turcos on guard
at eight o'clock in the evening, but we were allowed to lounge about
our quarters and talk with one another all the day. The different
squads kept to themselves; a grave crisis either dispels all squad
distinctions or accentuates them, and it was the latter that took
place on this occasion. We ate our meals in gloomy silence, but in
the intervals between them we speculated incessantly on what the
colonel meant by saying that when the commandant had punished us he
would take care to punish us too. Though we thought of everything that
might occur, yet we were not satisfied; the indefiniteness of the
threat was its chief terror. If one knows with certainty the worst,
why, one can prepare to meet it, but when some fate, terrible but not
tangible, certain but not understood, hangs over a man or a number of
men courage is apt to ooze out at the finger ends. Talk of the sword of
Damocles, that was nothing;--it simply meant death at some uncertain
time--why, we all have such swords over our heads, and yet we eat and
drink and sleep, we pray and curse, we laugh and weep, we hurt or help
our neighbour, we gain or spend, as if life were the one thing safe and
sure, safe and sure for ever. No one thinks much of his future beyond
the grave; it is the future on this side of the Styx that we most
earnestly dwell on. Why, even the man condemned to death thinks far
less of what may happen to his soul, if he believes that he has a soul,
when it leaves the body, than of the years of gladness and fellowship
with men that the law is about to take from him. The uncertainty and
the suspense united made us discontented and gloomy; we spoke to one
another, it is true, but not in the old and pleasant way. There was not
much cursing or swearing--we had gone beyond such solace or relief--but
there was plenty of morose ill-humour, and as for _bonne camaraderie_,
there was less of it in a company than there had been the day before in
a single squad.
After the evening soup Nicholas nodded to me to come over to him. I was
not sorry to go across the little space between us; he was the first
who had even been commonly polite to me that day. When we were together
he spoke in a low tone and in English--I may remark here that Nicholas
was very well educated and spoke at least half-a-dozen languages with
purity and ease--asking me what I intended to do.
"Nothing," I replied. "I see nothing that I can do."
"Nothing?" he queried.
"Nothing. And you?"
"Oh! I," said he, "do not intend to stay in Algeria any longer; my
physician orders me to a warmer climate somewhere in the East."
"Yes," he went on; "I fancy that Tonquin will suit my present ailment;
anyway, better see life along with the others who are now campaigning
there than stagnate in a desert hole."
"You do not mean----" I began, but he interrupted me.
"Yes, I do mean it; and I know that they will be only too glad to get
such volunteers as we are."
"They" (by "they" he meant the military authorities) "know very well
that we shall be trying to escape from the fire to the frying-pan,
and that we shall have only two things to depend upon to get us out
of the latter--valour and good conduct. So we shall be the very best
of soldiers, because, while others have merely to keep their good
reputation, we shall have to earn ours over again. Trust me, they will
be glad to accept us as volunteers for the war, and, listen, I know
these French, when we volunteer they will almost altogether forgive
us. They are very hard and strict, especially with us, and they are
too nice about their honour, and they stand overmuch on ceremony and
punctilio, but they are really generous, often more generous than just.
When they find us trying to retrieve our good name they will give us
every opportunity to do so. We shall have many vacancies in the ranks,
it is true, and many a good comrade will not answer at the evening
roll call, but it will be well with the survivors. In any case, I am
tired of soldiering here. Why should I not see the world, not as I saw
it before," he smiled sadly, as I thought, when he said this, "but as
millions of men have seen it--a nameless unit in a crowd? After all,
many of Cæsar's legionaries had happier lives than Cæsar." When he
ceased speaking there was silence between us for some moments. Then he
asked:
"And you, young one, what will you do?"
"I will volunteer," I answered; "there surely cannot be worse fighting
in Tonquin than there was here at Three Fountains a short while ago."
He smiled, and said: "Was it not good practice for war? Was it not
better than all the drill in the world?"
"Yes," I replied; "if someone got a thousand francs every week, we
should be the finest fighting men on the earth. I mean those of us who
did not go out there," and I nodded towards the mound on the eastern
side of the camp. He shook his head. "Say nothing about that; it is all
over now. I do not mind your saying what you think to me alone, but do
not, I ask you, speak too freely to our comrades. They will soon forget
everything, if they are not constantly reminded of things."
After some further conversation we separated.
I said nothing to the others about our resolve, as I wished that the
Russian should be the first to explain matters to our comrades. I had
more than one reason for doing this. In the first place, Nicholas, as
he was known in the corps--what his real name and rank were we never
learned--was my senior in age and experience; in the second, he was a
man of infinitely greater influence than I or any other in the company,
partly on account of his money and generosity, but still more because
of his manner, bearing, and unconscious air of authority; moreover,
he was the clearest and most convincing speaker I have ever heard.
Again, he had brought us into trouble and had done a good deal to get
us out of it; to him, therefore, all looked for further deliverance. I
felt sure that, when he told the rest of his intention, all of ours,
and probably all of No. 4 Company, would volunteer along with him.
It would be much better for us if companies volunteered instead of
merely men or squads or sections. The greater the number going of their
own accord to the war, the more lenient would our officers be; and,
furthermore, no man would be likely to be sent amongst strangers--we
should probably all soldier together. Should Nicholas and I go out by
ourselves, we should be transferred with bad reputations to a company
already in Tonquin, and for that neither he nor I had any liking. If
all volunteered, we might still remain an unchanged unit, even though
in a new battalion, and one must never forget that when a man has been
for some time living and working and fighting, yes, and looting, and
perhaps doing worse, along with certain companions, he has a feeling of
_camaraderie_, of yearning for their society, which makes it very hard
for him to leave them, though it must be acknowledged that a soldier
easily makes new friends and new attachments wherever he goes.
Nicholas did not ponder long before he announced his intention of
volunteering for Tonquin. I don't think it took the others much by
surprise, perhaps because recent events had prepared them for anything,
perhaps because the Russian's acts, no matter how strange they might
appear in another man, were only ordinary, natural, and to be expected
in him. Any way they merely nodded or smiled, and at first no one asked
for an explanation. This, however, the Russian gave of his own accord.
"You know, _mes camarades_," he began, "that the colonel is very
angry with us and that he has it in his power to make things very
uncomfortable for those who have displeased him. Now I do not care to
stay under his command if I can get away from it, and there is but one
course, as far as I know, by which I can avoid his anger and perhaps
regain the reputation of being a good soldier and one not likely to
disgrace the flag. There is, as we all are aware, a war against savages
going on at this moment in Tonquin. I mean to volunteer to go thither;
it will be easier to campaign against Black Flags, who will kill me
if they can and whom I will kill if I am able, than to suffer in a
camp of hell in the desert, where one cannot resist nor even complain.
Better, far better, will it be to march and fight, even to starve and
die, like a soldier in an enemy's country than to live a life worse
than a convict's in some one of those awful cantonments where even the
native soldiers are discontented and restless. You all have heard,
as I have, of the woes of poor soldiers in such places. The officers
and sub-officers are hard enough here--I mean no offence to our own
corporal, he has always been good comrade to his squad--but there they
are veritable demons, there they carry revolvers by day and by night,
and, if a sergeant should lose his temper and shoot a simple soldier,
there is no redress, there is no punishment, unless the dead man's
comrades themselves take a just vengeance on the murderer. And then
there will be executions and deprivation of pay, and the last state of
the company will be worse than the first. Again, in those places, where
not even our poor amusements and relaxations are possible, where one
can enjoy neither wine nor the society of women, men go mad and men
commit suicide, and men deliberately break the laws in sheer despair,
and, worst of all, men die lingering deaths from settled melancholy,
thinking always, as they cannot help thinking, of home and former
friends and the pleasant, happy days of youth. But I, for my part, will
not, if I can avoid those places, go thither to starve, to mope, to rot
alive, and to die--hopeless, friendless--for there men are not friends
but only associates--with a curse upon my lips and heavy anger with God
and man in my heart. No; rather will I volunteer for Tonquin. There I
shall be, if no better, at least no worse than thousands of others who
are fighting bravely, and are ready, if need be, to bravely die."
When Nicholas stopped speaking an Alsatian said: "I too will
volunteer." That was all; Alsatians are not inclined to talk much,
but they are good, hardworking, steadfast men in action. If you are
fighting and an Alsatian is your comrade, your rear-rank man let us
say, don't be a bit afraid to go forward, the Alsatian will be always
there, backing you up. They are not men who are anxious to lead a
bayonet charge, but they won't refuse to follow, and where they go they
generally stay, for just as they don't begin an advance they won't,
on the other hand, begin a retreat. Put a Parisian, a Gascon, or a
Breton at the head of a company of Alsatians and you have practically
resurrected a company of the Old Guard.
There was some confused talking after this. Nicholas, the Alsatian,
and I kept out of the conversation, smoking our pipes in quiet
contemplation of the rest; the corporal of the squad was seated on his
camp-cot, a cigarette between his lips, looking with a cynical smile at
the Russian. At last it was decided--all the squad would volunteer. As
soon as the corporal found that we were unanimous he seized his kepi
and ran out of the hut without uttering a word save: _Bons soldats,
bons camarades_. We learned afterwards that he rushed straight off to
the captain and told him of our decision. This was welcome news, as
all the officers were chafing and fuming because they had not been
selected for the front. I may here mention that our corporal was the
first to gladden the captain's heart and bring him some hope of gaining
glory and promotion, and, when the captain got the chance of giving
promotion, our corporal exchanged the two red chevrons on his sleeve
for the single gold one of a sergeant.
Well, when the others heard of this, there was much earnest
conversation and still more earnest gesticulation in the little camp.
All were excited; the desire to get away from the punishment stations,
the eager wish for change, the natural impulse of soldiers to put
into practice the teaching of the drill-ground and the manoeuvres,
all combined to render the men anxious to follow the example of our
squad. Before we went on duty that night my company had volunteered
to a man, and, when we dismounted guard in the morning, we were not a
whit surprised to find ourselves relieved by native troops, for that
told us that we had guessed aright and that No. 4 Company, our friends
and erstwhile foes, had thrown in their lot with us and would be our
_compagnons d'armes et de voyage_. We were very glad of that. Together
we were a half battalion, a weak one, it is true--the mound on the east
and the hospital held so many of our comrades--but still strong enough
to demand and command respect.
While we were enjoying our morning soup the officers of the company
came round. How different everything was then compared with the day
before! The captain, a bronzed, heavy-moustached man, whose military
career had not been very successful--he was a good soldier and a good
officer, but he had made the great mistake of falling in love, as a
_sous-lieutenant_, with his colonel's wife, and the colonel, now a
general, had not forgotten--was in great good humour. He remembered
our crime, only to laugh at it, and said that the men who could give
so good an account of themselves against the heroes of No. 4 were
just the soldiers he wished to lead into action. He told us to be
very careful. If we misconducted ourselves again the company might be
distributed amongst the four battalions of the other regiment of the
Legion, and that would be bad for us and bad for him as well. "Let us
only be allowed to remain together," he said. "We shall all go out to
Tonquin, and then there will be plenty of excitement, and promotion
must come." He was thinking, I suppose, of his own disappointments. It
must be very hard on a man to be passed in the race by others who were
boys at school when he was wearing a sword; why, the commandant of the
battalion was younger than he. The other officers were also pleased;
the lieutenant a handsome fellow of twenty-five or so, was anxious to
get his company; the sub-lieutenant, a stern, hard-featured man of
forty, who had risen from the ranks, was quite satisfied to go to a
place where he might have a chance of picking up unconsidered trifles.
Ah! _ces vieux militaires_ are the quietest and most thorough-going
pillagers in the world. Nothing comes amiss to them--they could teach
even Cossacks how to loot--and how they manage to keep this loot and
get it safely home to wife or mistress--for they have always a woman
on their private pay-sheet--I cannot for the life of me imagine. They
do it, however, and they are not only in the Foreign Legion or in the
French army--you will find them in every army, nay, in every regiment
in the world.
Well, the sergeants and corporals were well pleased too. They kept us
for all that under strict discipline until the day we found ourselves
aboard the transport at Marseilles. But I am anticipating.
At about five o'clock in the evening both companies were paraded and
inspected just as on the day before, but there was a great change in
the colonel's manner. He was not over friendly with us, but he did not
abuse or threaten. He called us sharply to attention, and then said:
"Every man in the front rank who wishes to volunteer for Tonquin will
march one pace to the front; every man in the rear rank who wishes to
volunteer for Tonquin will march one pace to the rear. Volunteers,
march!" At once the ranks separated. All in front stepped one pace
forward; all in the rear took one pace backward. He walked down between
the ranks, saw that all had volunteered, took up his former position
in front of us, and ordered us back to our original formation. "All
have volunteered. I am well satisfied. Dismiss the parade, monsieur le
commandant."
For some time after we were busy getting ready to leave Three
Fountains, and no one was sorry when we presented arms to a detachment
of zephyrs that came to take our place. As soon as they had returned
the compliment we fell into marching array in columns of fours, wheeled
to the left, passed by the flank of the zephyrs, saluted the Turcos
of the main guard at the gate, and stepped out on our first march
northward. Truly, we were glad to leave behind the cantonment of Three
Fountains and its associations. Always fond of change, we dropped our
sadness, the sadness which one cannot choose but feel when leaving
behind for ever even one's temporary home. Before we had finished the
first league spirits were as high, laughter as gay, jests as plentiful
as on my very first march, when with the other two hundred recruits I
went from the depot to the battalion. Normally the two companies should
be about five hundred strong, but death and the doctor detained so many
that I do not believe we were quite four hundred all told. However,
at the depot, which we reached in good time, doing a fair day's
march every day, we received additions to our numbers--self-styled
recruits, really men who had learned more than a little of soldiering
in other armies, and whom ill-luck or bad character or desire of French
citizenship had driven or induced into the Foreign Legion.
At the depot we received our outfit for the East. The kepi was
exchanged for the white helmet, lighter underclothing was served out
to us, all clothing and footwear was renewed, and I may say without
boasting that when, fully five hundred strong, we paraded for the
last time before entraining for Oran, in order to hear the farewell
address of the depot commandant, we presented as smart and soldier-like
an appearance as any commanding officer could wish to see. The depot
commandant made a short speech, shook hands with our commanding
officer, wished him and us _bon voyage et prompt retour_, and then,
with the band at the head of the column, we marched out of the gate,
saluting the guard as we passed, amidst the ringing cheers of the
veterans and recruits left behind. When we were safely in the train
all discipline was at an end: we shouted, cheered, laughed and sang,
and so began our journey to the land where more than half my comrades
lie--as quiet as the Greek and the Portuguese under the little mound on
the eastern side of the mud huts of _Trois Fontaines_.