The legion of adventurous spirits who fought for France, made up of
renegades and social outcasts from all quarters of the globe. It had
the right of honor in an attack and went through the bitterest fighting
on the Western front.]
“I had written to my friends at home. I had named the man in my
company to whom I wished to leave my personal belongings. Sergeant
Velte was to have my Parabellum pistol; Casey my prismatics; Birchler
my money-belt and contents; while Sergeant Jovert was booked for my
watch and compass. Yet, in the back of my mind, I smiled at my own
forethought. I knew that I should come out alive.
“I recalled to myself the numerous times that I had been in imminent
peril: in the Philippines, in Mexico, and during the thirteen months of
this war: I could remember time and again when men were killed on each
side of me and when I escaped unscratched. Take the affair of Papoin,
Joly, and Bob Scanlon. We were standing together so near that we could
have clasped hands. Papoin was killed, Joly was severely wounded, and
Scanlon was hit in the ankle—all by the same shell. The fragments
which killed and wounded the first two passed on one side of me, while
the piece of iron that hit Bob went close by my other side. Yet I was
untouched! Again, take the last patrol. When I was out of cover, the
Germans shot at me from a range of 10 meters—and missed! I felt certain
that my day was not to-morrow.
“Just the same, I was glad that my affairs were arranged, and it
gave me a sense of conscious satisfaction to think that my comrades
would have something to remember me by. There is always the chance of
something unforeseen happening.
“The strain was beginning to wear off. From right and left there came
a steady murmur of low talk. In our own column men were beginning
to chaff each other. I could distinctly hear Subiron describing in
picturesque detail to Capdevielle how he, Capdevielle, would look,
gracefully draped over the German barbed wire; and I could hear
Capdevielle’s heated response that he would live long enough to spit
upon Subiron’s grave; and I smiled to myself. The moment of depression
and self-communication had passed. The men had found themselves and
were beginning their usual chaffing. And yet, in all their chatter
there seemed to be an unusually sharp note. The jokes all had an edge
to them. References to one another’s death were common, and good wishes
for one another’s partial dismemberment excited only laughter. Just
behind me I heard King express the hope that if he lost an arm or a leg
he would at least get the _médaille militaire_ in exchange. By way of
comfort, his chum, Dowd, remarked that, whether he got the medal or
not, he was very sure of getting a permit to beg on the street-corners.”
Here is a significant touch to be remembered. An hour before midnight
as they passed down to the front trenches the men in the supporting
trenches regarded them enviously in the darkness, demanding to know
why these men should be going into battle ahead of themselves. And the
answer came, “Nous sommes la Légion.” “A-a-a-a-h la Légion!” That was
the satisfactory explanation. “Our right to the front rank seemed to be
acknowledged. It did every man of us good.”
It was the recognition of the right to redemption!