As an addendum to this account of the final action of the Foreign
Legion, brief reference to the _Bataillon d’Afrique_ is quite
appropriate. This battalion was organized by the French government in
1832 for the purpose of bringing under indefinite military discipline
the city roughs, Apaches, sneak-thieves, pickpockets, swindlers,
forgers and other offenders of the lower world. All the social
refuse whom the authorities despaired of making useful to civil life
were sent to join this battalion, which differed from the ordinary
battalion consisting of 1,000 men, in having no numerical limit.
It was maintained in Africa. These soldiers were young daredevils,
keen, brave, daring, and veritable terrors in a fight. This was so
characteristic of them that the best French officers were eager to have
command of them, especially as they were devotedly obedient to their
officers.
When France was forced to defend herself against Germany at the
outbreak of the Great War, there were 5,000 of the Bataillon d’Afrique,
3,000 garrisoned in Tunis and 2,000 in Morocco. They were summoned
to France, and the first detachment of several thousand landed at
Marseilles early in August and were at once hurried north and into
Belgium. One battalion was surrounded at Charleroi by a detachment of
the Prussian Guards, and the situation looked very black and desperate.
But that did not affect the fighting spirit of the battalion (the
Joyeux) except to give it intensity. The Joyeux buried their flag
that it might be in no danger of falling into the hands of the enemy
and, with fixed bayonets, by sheer force and will-power cut their way
through the encircling guardsmen. This battalion was part of the heroic
rearguard in the retreat from Belgium. At the battle of the Marne it
took terrible revenge for its discomfiture by the Guards at Charleroi,
when the Joyeux in their turn surrounded a regiment of the Prussian
Guards, which did not cut a way out.
They gave a fine account of themselves, that is, those who had survived
the earlier campaigns in the final grand offensive of the Allies.
Captain Cecaldi, who led the Joyeux in many campaigns, said of them:
“The place of the Joyeux is where the powder talks, face to danger.
They ever give proof of a calm energy, devilish courage, attentive
obedience. They fight always with a good humor. In the midst of shells
and bullets, in the hardest part of the struggle, they make droll
and witty remarks. And when the end comes the Joyeux know how to die
nobly.”
“DOC OF THE FIFTH”
The Conversion of the Rev. J. H. Clifford, “Y” Worker, into A Hero
Among Marines
Not every one understands that a soldier of the Lord has in him the
material out of which to make a very effective soldier where shot and
shell play havoc. The young men of the Army, Navy and Marines who went
over to France to offer their lives in defense of their country’s
ideals, discovered, in the experiences of the trenches, a something
that rather cheapened in their estimation the forms and didactic
solemnity of conventional religion. They had learned a more intimate
thing, and it is the testimony of many clergymen that the “boys” found
words only too cheap where works were in order. They had no hankering
for sermons. They had caught an intimate understanding from the
Unknown. They did not want to be preached to.
Therein lies the secret of the affectionate familiar devotion of the
men of the regiment to “Doc of the Fifth.” It is a story that has
been told widely in the press, and has been requoted in numerous
periodicals, but it is a delightful instance of what may be called the
quiet heroisms of life.
The Rev. John H. Clifford, minister of the Baptist Church in Tucson,
Arizona, felt the urge to service on the other side when the United
States began sending its boys to the fighting front. He promptly
tendered himself as a “Y” worker, was accepted and sent abroad. His
assignment carried him to the 5th Regiment of Illinois in the Vosges.
He went prepared to do his duties as a minister of the Gospel and a
servant of man.
He wore the blouse and tunic of the chaplain, insignia that indicated
to some of the “Boys” that superior altitude of moral pretension and
holier-than-thouness they were unwilling to acknowledge too cordially.
So when he tried to begin his work with the men of the 5th, he was
greeted by the declaration, “We don’t want any damned parsons around
here,” and for two weeks they held aloof, ignoring the efforts to
establish religious services.
But the Rev. John H. Clifford wasn’t a clergyman merely, he was a
man—and he understood men. And this valuable asset incited a course
of action destined to win the confidence and affection of those under
his care. Instead, therefore, of standing on dignity and attempting to
command the respect supposedly “due to the cloth,” he went to the men.
He joined them in their hikes. He entered into their interests. He was
ever ready to do his share and bear the equal hardships with them. They
began to warm toward him, and finally, as one of the Marines put it, he
was “adopted as a Leatherneck,” and he became to them “Doc”—“Doc of the
Fifth.”
[Illustration: Rev. J. H. Clifford of the Fifth Marines
Entering the service as a “Y” worker, Rev. Clifford later became
attached to the Fifth Marines and remained with that organization
throughout its fighting. The men became so fond of him that they named
him “Doc of the Fifth” and attached the Globe, Anchor and Eagle to his
collar.]