I will not weary the reader with an account of our marches to and
fro, hunting straggling bands of marauders. This work soon became
monotonous, and the recital of our doings would, I am sure, prove
monotonous as well. Only one thing impressed itself strongly on my mind
at the time, and this was that a man who fell out of the ranks had no
chance of getting mercy from the Black Flags. Occasionally, we came
across the horribly mutilated body of a French soldier or an Annamite
tirailleur, and the sight was sickening. One circumstance, which I must
now relate, made our blood boil over and, if we learned to give no
quarter, the enemy had no one to blame but themselves.
We arrived at a small village one morning about nine o'clock, having
been on the march continuously since five. Here we rested during the
heat of the day, and one of the men of my squad and I went to a little
shop to buy tobacco. We saw some fruit there--I don't know what kind
it was--and my comrade purchased some and gave a share to me. We ate
it, and thought no more about the business, but the fruit cost my poor
friend his life.
When we were on the march that afternoon, I felt very sick. My
comrade--I forgot to mention that he came from Lorraine and was serving
with us in order that, when his time was up, he might become a French
citizen--was even worse, and both of us had to fall out of the ranks.
However, we again caught up with the company, but a second time we were
compelled to stay behind, and this time the captain ordered our rifles
and ammunition to be taken from us and carried by our comrades.
"The Black Flags," he said, "may get you if they like, but they sha'n't
have your arms or ammunition."
I don't blame the officer, he was quite right. The same thing was done
with every man who showed signs of weakness or weariness, for we had
no ambulance in these hurried pursuits, and the abandoned soldier kept
only his bayonet for defence against the human wolves that hung on our
flanks and rear. Not much good that, for the cowards used to overpower
the poor devils with stones, and, as soon as they were beaten to the
ground, the brutes would seize them and execute their horrible tortures
on their bodies before death came--a merciful release. Again, however,
we struggled back to the company. Nicholas, who was carrying my rifle
and ammunition in addition to his own, said: "Cheer up, my good friend;
keep on a little longer; we shall soon be in camp." Le Grand, who
was in the squad immediately behind mine, got permission to carry my
knapsack, another man took my greatcoat, and still another my blanket,
but, in spite of the relief thus afforded me, it was with the utmost
difficulty that I kept on. The Lorrainer was similarly aided, but he
was too unwell, and had for the third and last time to fall out. He
never rejoined the company, and we could at the time only speculate
upon his fate, but very soon we were to learn the truth.
Helped on by my comrades, I managed to stagger into the little
collection of huts where we were to pass the night. Nicholas and
Le Grand foraged for me, and got somewhere and somehow a supply of
native spirit. Le Grand made me a stiff glass of boiling hot punch,
and this I was compelled to drink, though my stomach rebelled at all
things. I fell asleep soon after, and woke in the morning, qualmish,
indeed, and weak, but completely rid of all the bad effects brought
on by indulgence in the fruit. Nicholas insisted on my taking some
of the spirit in my morning coffee, and also filled my water bottle
with coffee containing about a glass of the fiery stuff, so that I
might have medicine on the march. All the others of the squad were
sympathetic, and Le Grand, though not of my squad, came over to our
hut to inquire about me. Nobody minded this--it was no breach of squad
etiquette, as we were both Irishmen--but, of course, it would not do
for us to be too much together--we remembered the punishment given to
the Alsatians.
Some information received by our officers made us return by the route
passed over on the previous day. When we came near the place where the
unfortunate Lorrainer had fallen out, a great cloud of birds rose up
from the ground and flew, crying hoarsely, away. Very soon we learned
the meaning of this. The captain of my company, who was riding in
front, suddenly shouted out: "Halt!" and dismounting, gave the reins
to his orderly and crossed into a rice field that bordered the way.
What he saw there seemed to fill him with disgust and horror. He called
out to the other officers to come and see; then the sergeants and the
corporals were summoned; finally we private soldiers went by fours to
view the sight. What a horrible thing met our gaze! On the ground lay
the dead body of the Lorrainer, hacked and mutilated in a fashion that
I cannot describe. We were almost sickened by the sight. Often before
we had seen mutilated bodies, but never one so savagely disfigured as
this, and, moreover, this was the body of one who had been our good
comrade only the day before.
"Ah," said the captain to me, "was it not well that you struggled on?"
"My captain," said Nicholas, speaking before I could get out a word, "I
will never again give mercy to a Black Flag. As they do to us, let us
do to them."
The captain answered nothing to this, but sent us back to our ranks.
Before we left the spot we buried the poor Lorrainer.
All that day we spoke of nothing but the horrible sight we had seen
in the morning. We were angry; we made resolutions to take a sharp and
speedy vengeance for the death of our comrade and the indignity shown
to his corpse; we encouraged one another in the desire for revenge; we
spoke of what might happen to any one of us who fell faint or wounded
on the way; we were gloomy and sullen, not with despair, but with the
gloom and sullenness of incensed men. Had we met any enemies that day,
not even the commander-in-chief of the army in Tonquin could have
prevented us from treating them as they had treated our poor comrade,
and, when we did get the chance, we took a bloody vengeance on the
barbarians--such a vengeance as even in the Legion was spoken of with
bated breath.
Now at this time the battalion had been divided into three parts--two
companies held a depot of stores and ammunition, the remaining two
were out as small flying columns through the country. It was our turn
to go into garrison and rest a while, and two days after burying
our unfortunate comrade we marched into the depot. The day after
our friends of No. 4 Company came in, and the two companies, Nos. 1
and 2, that we relieved started off on a ten days' trip through the
country, seeking the enemy but, as a rule, not finding them. While
we were resting in garrison we told the story of the Lorrainer's sad
fate to the men of No. 4, and we also made them acquainted with our
determination to have satisfaction at all costs for the brutality of
those who had tortured to death a poor, sick soldier, to all intents
and purposes unarmed, and then disfigured his body in so revolting a
manner. I give no details of the mutilation here, but we described it
fully to our comrades, and they too were filled with horror and anger.
The two companies had got a strange sort of liking for each other,
arising out of the fight at Three Fountains, and we could not have met
men more willing to back us up in our resolve than they were, and fate
sent us other allies almost as good too.
A few days before our turn came to go out on the tiresome tramp after
quickly disappearing enemies, two companies of Frenchmen came into our
little camp. To our surprise, and, indeed, at first to our disgust,
they were the two companies of zephyrs that had come out with us in the
transport. We had not lain alongside of them since we parted at Saigon,
and then our feelings towards one another were not at all friendly.
However, if soldiers quickly fall out, often they become friends again
as easily, and so it happened with us. The zephyrs were not a day in
camp before they knew all about the Lorrainer and our desire to avenge
him, and, since they considered the people of Lorraine as their own
flesh and blood, they felt almost as angry as we did. Very soon we all
were, if not friends, at least allies for the purpose of obtaining
vengeance on the Black Flags, and it was tacitly understood amongst the
soldiers of the four companies that, when next we went into action, no
quarter was to be given and that the commands, even the entreaties,
of our officers to show mercy were to be disregarded. As soldiers we
all recognised that it would be impossible to punish so many men, and
we saw also that, if we took a terrible vengeance, the officers would
do their best to hide the fact, and, though it might become known
throughout the army, yet there was no chance of the general giving it
official recognition by giving us official punishment.
Now the two companies of zephyrs numbered at the time about 300 men and
No. 4 and mine about 350; the rest were in the hospital or the grave.
When No. 1 and No. 2 Companies of my battalion came into camp, the
zephyrs and we others marched out. At the end of the first day's march
we picked up a couple of companies of Annamite tirailleurs, weak ones
they were, and angry, as they had had a couple of fights recently
with the Black Flags and got by no means the best of the fighting.
Another weak company of native levies joined us the next day, so that
altogether our commandant had at his disposal about 650 Europeans and
about 300 Asiatic tirailleurs. There were no guns with us, but we did
not mind their absence, this time we meant to depend solely on the
bayonet.
I have often wondered whether or not our officers knew of our
resolution. Certainly the corporals and sergeants did, but these
_sous-officiers_ were too experienced to say anything to us about it;
they might as well have tried to turn back Niagara as to change our
minds. That they knew, and they knew also that we were dangerous men to
cross when united and feeling strongly about anything. Bullets don't
always fly towards the enemy. Many a man with a private grudge against
sergeant or corporal might be only too glad to salve his conscience,
or what stood for his conscience, by saying to himself that he was
merely executing justice on behalf of his section or his squad. If the
officers knew, they kept silent, but one thing was certain, however
it came about: we were the quietest and most subdued force, to all
appearance, in the world. The officers and sub-officers were strangely
easy with us; we in the ranks dropped all the boisterous gaiety that
usually distinguishes soldiers; we were well behaved, respectful,
attentive to our duties--in short, for the time being we were model
troops.
One evening our scouts brought in word that a fairly large body of the
enemy, from two to three thousand strong, lay within two hours' march
of our encampment. These were evidently the men who had driven back
the Annamite tirailleurs, and our yellow friends were quite well aware
of what had happened to their wounded, whom they had been compelled
to abandon on the field. "So much the better," whispered we to one
another; "the native levies will be our very good brothers this time."
Next morning we were aroused without sound of bugle, and after the
morning meal had been disposed of, every man received a ration of
wine. Some fellows drank this at once, most of us, however, put it into
our water bottles for use during the day. Soon we were on the march,
due precautions being taken against a flank attack or a surprise,
and about eight o'clock or half-past we arrived within sight of the
enemy. They were not disposed to stir on our account, and we were quite
satisfied. We had begun to despise them--I mean when we met them in
fair fight. That is the way with all Europeans; a white man gets to
know his yellow brother only to despise him.
Towards nine o'clock the regular advance began. No. 4 Company of
legionaries attacked on the right, my company being in support, with
half-a-section, supported by some Annamite tirailleurs, flung out to
guard against a flank attack on the part of the enemy; on the left a
company of zephyrs were extended, the second company of Frenchmen doing
the same duty on the left as mine did on the right; in reserve were the
rest of the Annamite tirailleurs.
Our men advanced in the usual way until they came within charging
distance of the enemy's entrenchment. At this time a slight diversion
was caused on the left by a feeble attempt to outflank and throw into
confusion the white soldiers and native levies advancing in support.
This attempt failed, and, just as we knew that it had failed, a
similar one was made on us. We quickly put an end to it, pouring in
a heavy fire at short range, and when these attacks were repulsed
a considerable body of the Black Flags left the field. But the
firing line in front had still to reckon with the soldiers manning
the trenches, and these certainly fought with admirable spirit and
determination. Better for them had they run away!
When the time came, in the commandant's opinion, for the charge which
was to end the fight, one section of my company was ordered forward to
join No. 4, the other section, the one to the right, with about 100
Annamite tirailleurs, to overlap the enemy in that direction and, if
possible, to take them in the rear.
As we ran along we heard first the heavy, continuous firing that always
precedes the bayonet charge, and then the hoarse roar of "Kill, kill!"
that told us that our comrades were going up with the bayonet.
We redoubled our exertions, slaughtered to a man a small body of Black
Flags that tried to block the way, and very soon we were clear past
the end of the entrenchments and were moving inwards--that is, to the
left--to catch the savages in the rear. We just succeeded. The enemy,
driven out of the entrenchments by the frontal attack, were pouring out
in hundreds along their line of retreat We rushed at them with cries of
exultation and revenge, and as we drove back the fugitives on one side
a section of zephyrs and some natives drove them back on the other.
We had now completely hemmed them in. Roughly speaking, on the south
were a company and a half of legionaries and a company and a half of
zephyrs, with a few Annamites who had come up from the reserves; on the
north, half a company of legionaries, half a company of zephyrs, and
about a hundred and fifty native tirailleurs; between these two forces
about six or seven hundred Black Flags and their allies. It was now a
game of battledore and shuttlecock: our comrades on the south drove the
savages on to our bayonets; we sent them yelling back again. Once more
our fellows attacked and pushed them towards us; we, who had re-formed
the ranks, again closed and used the bayonet mercilessly until they
tried to break away. This went on for some time, but every charge
brought the opposed lines of white soldiers closer, and thus diminished
the little space in which the Black Flags could move. At last we were
all a dense crowd, in the centre a mob of savages so closely packed
together that they had scarcely room to thrust or cut, around this a
circle of maddened men stabbing furiously and crying out:
"Vengeance for our comrade; kill, kill!" By scores the central mob went
down. At last not more than fifty or sixty were left, and these were on
their knees or thrown prone upon the ground crying out for quarter. We
opened our ranks and let all the Annamites through; in three minutes
not a Black Flag was left alive.
In plain words, this was a massacre--of that there can be no doubt.
It is only fair, however, to put the responsibility on the proper
shoulders. Therefore I say that it was meditated upon and carried out
by the simple soldiers; the officers and sub-officers merely fought
well while there was any show of resistance. It would be unjust to
the men to say that the officers led us, for we were far too anxious
to get to close quarters to require leading, but when the resistance
had ceased the captains and lieutenants vehemently ordered, and, when
orders were disregarded, begged of us to stop. The sergeants and
the corporals asked us to refrain from killing, but they were not
over-earnest about it--they understood us better than the leaders of
higher rank--and they knew quite well that our desire of vengeance
could be appeased only by blood. The corporal of my squad said to us
afterwards:
"No doubt it was wrong, but perhaps it was necessary."
But, it will be asked, were there no leaders in the affair? Yes;
there were leaders--indeed, the very best leaders that could be found
for such a deed. You must understand that we had in our ranks men of
education and refinement; gentlemen, let me say, who had gone astray.
These were of many nations and of various crimes. I have already
mentioned Nicholas the Russian. I could also tell you something of a
Prussian ex-lieutenant of hussars; of an English infantry officer,
son of a high official in the Colonies, who had sent in his papers
after a five minutes' interview with his colonel; of the Austrian
_beau sabreur_ who loved women better than their honour and preferred
cards to his own; of many others who came to the Legion as a means
of committing social suicide, and who--unhappy rascals that they
were--were yet good, honest, fighting men, and not bad comrades if one
only put a guard upon his tongue. Two of them could not live in the
same squad, and the authorities knew it. Every one of them was a second
corporal, so to speak, and really, to take the case of the man I knew
best, Nicholas was far more respected amongst us than our authorised
superior, and the corporal was as well aware of the fact as we. Well,
these were the leaders. When the officers and sub-officers, who
thought only of victory and perhaps promotion, would have had us show
mercy when the fight was over, these men, born and trained leaders,
encouraged us to slay and spare not, and showed us an example of fierce
brutality which we, angry on account of the murder and mutilation
of our comrade, only too faithfully followed. We should certainly
have done some unfair killing in any case, but we others should not,
I believe, have been guilty of such excesses were it not for the
ruined gentlemen who for once saw a chance of giving vent to their
long pent-up feelings of anger with all the world--especially their
world--that had for ever cast them out Long ago there was an Italian
proverb: "Inglese Italianato e diavolo incarnato," and I believe it to
have contained a good deal of truth at the time. Nowadays the "devil
incarnate" is the gentleman by birth and breeding who has been rejected
by his natural society because he has been so unlucky as to be found
out.
Well, the fight was over, and we, having cleaned our bayonets, rested
quietly on the field. Nobody in the ranks said a word; the sergeants
stood apart from us and from each other; a little knot of officers
gathered together and spoke in whispers. The commandant rode up and
spoke in a low tone to them, then he went away, and the sections were
ordered to fall into ranks. The zephyrs and we were marched a little
way from the place, and were ordered to prepare a small encampment; the
Annamite tirailleurs were sent out scouting while this was being done;
there was not the slightest thought in any man's mind of pursuing the
flying enemy. Indeed, pursuit would have been useless; those who had
got away had too long a start, and we were very tired and in no mood
for further fighting that day. About two hundred legionaries and some
zephyrs were after a short time sent out to bury the dead. I should
mention that our wounded had been first carried to the place where
we were forming the little camp. I was glad that I was not with the
burial party; those who formed it had no stomach for their evening
soup. Towards nightfall all things necessary had been done--the wounded
cared for, the dead buried four deep in a long trench, this for the
Black Flags, and two shorter trenches, one for the legionaries and the
zephyrs, the other for the Annamite tirailleurs. The camp was very
quiet; the men not on guard or outlying picket lay about smoking, but
with very little conversation; the officers of all detachments had
assembled in the centre, and were talking earnestly about the events of
the day.
Nothing was ever said to us about this ugly affair. It was over and
done with; there was no use in talking about it In any case, how
could eight or nine hundred men--that is, including the Annamite
tirailleurs--be punished? Cæsar could decimate his legions--the day
is gone by for such punishment; moreover, even if special soldiers
were selected for trial by court-martial their comrades would surely
have revenge on the officers, the sergeants, and the corporals. It is
dangerous--take my word for it, very dangerous--to go too far with any
regiment in any army. With us it would be even worse, for no one, not
even the general in chief command, would be safe from our bullets if
only a chance arose. I believe that we were at once the worst used and
the most feared corps on the face of the earth.
Not long afterwards No. 4 Company and mine rejoined our comrades of
Nos. 1 and 2. We parted from the zephyrs in a very friendly way; they
told us that they liked us very much, and we paid them a similar
compliment. Often afterwards we heard from other legionaries that a
certain corps of zephyrs had shown them singular friendliness. In a
short time the story went round about the affair, and people began to
understand why this battalion of zephyrs was so well able to get on
with the soldiers of the Legion. Our fellows were good comrades to
them, just as they were good comrades to ours. If the zephyr had money,
the legionary had a share; if the legionary had money, the zephyr did
not find himself without wine and tobacco and the other things that
money procures. Frenchmen of other corps did not mind. After all,
it was none of their business; besides, the zephyr as well as the
legionary had a rather ugly camp reputation; both were too ready to
fight with men of other regiments on the slightest provocation.
In a short time we received some recruits, and the four companies of
the battalion were brought up to a fairly respectable strength. Every
company now numbered more than two hundred men, and at long last
promotion came in the ranks. The sergeant of my section had died of
wounds soon after the little affair I have just mentioned. My corporal
was promoted in his stead. It will be remembered that the corporal
of my squad had given the first intimation to the captain that we
were about to volunteer for active service; the captain now took the
opportunity of rewarding him for bringing the joyful news. There were
only two soldiers of the first class in the squad--Nicholas the Russian
and I. Nicholas, as the older and better soldier, was offered the rank
of corporal. He refused it, as was natural. It was all right to become
a soldier of the first class, because that rank saved him from many
disagreeable duties, but the idea of one who had commanded a company
accepting the control of a squad and receiving curses and abuse from
the company officers when a soldier got into trouble was not to be
entertained for a moment. The second chevron was then offered to me. I
accepted it on the spot, and by none was I more heartily congratulated
than by Nicholas. He went further than mere compliments and good
wishes: he asked me if I wanted money to pay for some drink and tobacco
for the men. Luckily, I had a few francs saved out of my scanty pay,
and so I was able to decline his generous offer. At the same time I
assured him that, if I wanted the loan of money from any man, I would
rather be in his debt than in another's. And I paid him the further
compliment--its truth pleased him--that I was, indeed, corporal on
parade but that he was corporal in camp, and that I should find it hard
to prove superior rank to his in a fight I knew--everybody knew--that
Nicholas had more influence than any corporal or, for that matter,
than either of the sergeants. He was glad that I openly admitted it
to him, and a more loyal soldier never helped a sub-officer when help
was really needed than he. I, probably the youngest corporal in the
army--not yet seventeen--had a more orderly and well-disciplined squad
than any other corporal in the service. Partly, I believe, this was
due to my own desire to give fair play to all the men, but chiefly,
I know, to the thorough-going way in which Nicholas supported me in
everything. Every man under me felt that I would do my best to screen
him if he broke the regulations, to save him as much as possible if
he were brought before the captain or the commandant by sergeant or
sergeant-major. Often I deliberately shut my eyes to things that were
wrong in themselves but dear to the heart of the soldier, and one day
I went so far as warmly to defend before the captain a man charged by
the sergeant-major with a serious military offence, though everybody
knew that the man's sole claim to be helped by me was that he was a
member of my squad. Nicholas told me that I had acted imprudently.
"The sergeant-major," he said, "will be your enemy; but there is one
consolation, the squad is more than pleased. The Austrian, however,"
he went on, "had no right to get himself into such trouble and, as it
were, compel you to save him from the consequences of his own guilt. We
will punish him; get permission to go outside the camp this evening,
and leave him to us." I understood. I got permission to be absent for
four hours--from seven in the evening until eleven. When I came back
the Austrian was lying on the floor of the hut with a blanket thrown
over him, dead.
"It was an accident, my corporal," said Nicholas.
"Yes; an accident," said a Belgian; "we did not mean to break his neck."
I examined the body. It was quite true that he was dead; already his
jaw had fallen, and a coldness and rigidity had seized upon his limbs.
I thought for a minute. The lights were out, only a feeble ray of
moonlight shone through the door.
"Is there anything to be done?" said I to Nicholas.
"Yes," he replied; "if we are all true comrades."
The others swore that they would be loyal to the death; as for me,
there was no need of asseveration: if I tried to save the men of the
squad, it was sink or swim for me with all.
"Let us bring him out," said Nicholas, "and put him outside the camp.
Then let nobody know anything of him save that he lay down at the usual
hour. You, corporal, must say that he was present when you came in; I
will give the rest of the evidence."
We had some difficulty in getting out the dead body, but when Nicholas
had interviewed a sentry we managed the rest easily enough. We left
it about two hundred paces from the camp, fully dressed, and with a
bayonet in the right hand. In the morning the nearest sentry called out
for the sergeant of the guard. He on coming up recognised the body as
that of a French soldier. It was carried to the guard-hut, and there
lay awaiting identification. I reported the absence of the Austrian
when the sergeant came round, and soon afterwards I was ordered to go
to the guard-hut. There I identified the body. All the squad and myself
were examined about the matter. Nicholas was the only one who knew
anything, and his story was that, lying awake at night, he had heard
the Austrian getting up, and asked him was he unwell. The Austrian had
said: "A little, not much; don't disturb anyone about me." He had then
gone out, and Nicholas had fallen asleep. Everyone believed that he
had left the camp to visit some female friend, and that he had been
suddenly fallen upon by natives and beaten to death. Such a little
thing was quickly forgotten, and we of the squad took particular pains
to avoid even mentioning his name.
After this event the squad would do anything for Nicholas and for me.
That was why it was so good a squad. Why, the captain looked surprised
when a man of mine was brought up before him. Well, if I were good to
them, they were good to me, and I had the pleasant consciousness that
no man would try to shoot me in the back when the bayonets were fixed
for the charge.
I kept aloof from the other corporals, and was rather distant with
the men--that is, with all except Nicholas. To him I never hesitated
to confide my thoughts, and many a time he gave me advice well worth
the having. He had read much and had travelled and mixed constantly
with men, and all the worldly wisdom he had gained was at my disposal;
indeed, I often felt secretly pleased that the Prince, as we
sometimes called him in his absence, was so frank and free with me.
He had, I knew, been exiled by the Tsar, or at any rate compelled
by circumstances to leave his country. I knew of some things he had
done--and they were guilty deeds--but he was so clever, so superior to
us others in manner and bearing, so generous when he had money, and,
best of all virtues in a soldier's eyes, so loyal to his comrades, that
a far more experienced man than I might have easily fallen under his
influence.
I shall have more to say of the Russian in the next chapter, and soon
after that he will disappear for ever from these pages. I shall not
anticipate, however, but let the tale unfold itself in its proper
order, making but one more observation here--namely, that when the
account of the last fight which I have mentioned went through the
Legion, and I believe I may say through all the army, it, coupled with
the story of the fight at Three Fountains, gave No. 4 Company and mine
a most unenviable reputation. In a way this was good; nobody felt
inclined to quarrel with us, and a most unusual calm and quietness
prevailed in every camp where we lay. At the same time the generals
gave us our fill of fighting--more than our share, indeed--but these
things will come in their own place afterwards. And so I close this
chapter--the chapter of the slaughter.