SOME TYPES OF VICE
A variety of human vices : The red wine of Algeria : Shum-Shum : If
there were no wine
It was always a marvel to me that neither cards nor dice played the
slightest part in the life of the Legion, in sharp contrast with the
important part they take in the life of the English Tommy, and
especially of the American soldier, who is an incorrigible gambler. On
a little station in Texas a detachment of sly old regulars in the
course of the single night that they were quartered there cleaned out
all the cowboys of the neighbourhood. I was one of the victims. But
that's another story.... Anyhow, the Legion is free from the vice of
gambling. This is perhaps hardly to be wondered at; five centimes
wages. The possibility of winning or losing five centimes is hardly
worth a throw of the dice.
In its place all the vices of almost every nation in the world can be
found in the Foreign Legion. This is not saying too much; I've looked
on.
Vicious influences are, however, much stronger in Indo-China and in
French Tonquin, where the garrisons of the various stations are all
drawn from the Legion. Veterans like Smith used to tell me things about
the life in Tonquin that almost made my hair stand on end. In the
inland districts the stations are quite small, and a few légionnaires
have to look after a large number of natives. The entire system of
justice on such a station, including the power of life and death, lies
in the hands of a couple of young officers and a few sergeants and
corporals. Surrounded by all possible human vices in their very worst
forms, to whose influence the deadly monotony inevitable on one of
these stations is added, the men live exposed to constant danger
occasioned both by the intrigues among the natives and the murderous
climate. The one seeks relief in spirits, the other swears by opium.
The fact that opium-smoking plays an important part in the life of the
French Navy and among the French Army officers in the Colonies has been
made public often enough already: every veteran in the Legion knows
well enough that in Toulon and Marseilles there are countless opium
dens which depend solely on the custom of French officers. These opium
dens were thoroughly discussed in the French press during the trial of
the midshipman Ullmo.
The habit of opium-smoking has, in nearly all cases, been acquired in
Indo-China. Spirits, opium, and loneliness form the fruitful soil in
which the Legion's vice takes root. In solitary cases even the officers
come under its influence. When this happens the results are sometimes
very terrible....
Among the garrisons of Indo-China the most notorious used to be those
of Sui-can and Bac-le. A certain Lieutenant Duchesne, who was later
killed in battle, many say by his own men, and the fact that the bullet
hit him in the back goes to prove the truth of this statement, has made
his name immortal in the Legion in this connection. Though he has been
dead several years, one still hears of his cruelty. His légionnaires
were all forced to submit themselves to his vicious freaks, resistance
being punished with the penal section, which is ten times worse in
Tonquin than those in Algeria. The obedient, however, were promoted.
Even to-day the same sort of thing can be found here and there in
Indo-China. There are always stories like this to be heard in the
Legion, adjutants and sous-officiers being freely named who are said to
owe their promotion to the vicious preference of some officer or other.
A good deal is perhaps spiteful gossip, but the stories are so
frequent, and the details given are so minute, that there must be a
certain amount of truth in them.
In addition to these outside influences, a further cause of depravity
is the involuntary celibacy to which the légionnaire is subjected. And
this celibacy has its origin in a financial consideration: the five
centimes per day.
... One always comes back again to the same point from which one
started.
Whoever really knows the Foreign Legion, whoever takes the trouble to
probe the depths of its misery and sin, of its brutality and vice,
always comes back, like a man walking in a circle, to the same source
of all its ills: the pitiful wage that's not worth calling a wage which
this business enterprise pays: this infamous business enterprise that a
chivalrous nation has so long tolerated and tolerates still.
* * * * *
All human vices are to be found in the Legion. And first among the
minor ones comes drunkenness. This takes the first place, occurring
most frequently and being the most characteristic and easily indulged,
in a country where the price of a litre of heavy wine varies between
ten and twenty centimes.
Das ist ja eben das Malheur:
Wer Sorgen hat, trinkt auch Likör.
"The man who has troubles, drinks"--Algerian wine, or in Indo-China a
horrible spirit, which is distilled, I believe, from rice and which
rejoices in the name of "Shum-Shum," and has the advantage of an
uncommonly high percentage of alcohol. It has only one drawback, and
that is its infernal smell, which delicate European noses cannot stand.
The légionnaire, however, drinks it: while drinking he holds his nose,
since he hardly values its aroma as he does its alcohol. I have often
heard old légionnaires singing the praises of Shum-Shum. One could get
accustomed to its smell, they said, and it made one very, very drunk.
The droll verses of the old German humourist, Wilhelm Busch, with their
subtle point, might have been written for the Legion. How they drank in
the canteen of the Foreign Legion in Sidi-bel-Abbès. The litre--a litre
of wine--took the place of the current coinage. Thus it was nothing
unusual for a légionnaire, when asked to wash for a comrade well
endowed with this world's goods, to raise one finger: that meant, of
course, a litre.
"If we hadn't wine...." I shall never forget Smith's pet expression.
There are no statistics on this point. I am, however, quite certain
that a good half of the miserable wages paid to the Foreign Legion are
spent in purchasing the red wine of Algiers. In addition to this,
nine-tenths, nay ninety-nine-hundredths of the notes and postal orders
which the légionnaires are continuously sent by anxious parents and
relations in Europe go to swell the coffers of Madame la Cantinière.
This is in no sense an accusation. When one considers the life of the
soldier of the Legion with understanding, one recognises that no one in
the world has more cares than he, no one a better right to his few
hours of oblivion. Yes, the African légionnaire has a hard life, and
drunkenness in his case is really almost excusable. I only want to show
what a prominent rôle the red wine of Algeria does play in the life of
the Legion. It is, it is true, the most general vice, but it is the
only means of obtaining a few moments of bliss, and the sole source of
pleasure.
Wine is the cause of a great many punishments. Drunkenness is a "sale
offense," to use the soldier's expression, a dishonourable offence that
is severely punished, and which continually furnishes the penal section
with new material.
As an instance of this I will give you the story of a man in my
company, a Belgian named Lascelles. At regular intervals he got a
postal order for a small sum sent him from some relative in Europe. On
receiving his money, he vanished as soon as he came off duty and did
not come back to the barracks again for at least twenty-four hours. As
long as his coppers lasted, he used to go from wine-shop to wine-shop
and empty bottle after bottle. On his return he would be immediately
locked up for overstaying his leave of absence; generally, however, to
celebrate the event he had made a great disturbance, and committed a
series of more or less grave offences, for each of which he was
punished singly. Every month the time he spent in prison grew longer
and longer, beginning with a trifling eight days and increasing to a
month's solitary confinement. In between whiles, Lascelles was a
capital soldier, who did his work willingly enough. When, however, his
name was read out at roll-call--a postal order for Lascelles--one could
be sure that a day later would find him in prison once more. In a few
months he had worked his way up the regimental scale of punishments,
and then came the inevitable end and he was sent off to the penal
section.
Lascelles' misfortunes were at any rate his own fault. It often
happens, however, that spiteful sergeants in the Legion take advantage
of a man's love of drink to work his ruin.
A sergeant has a spite against a man and waits patiently for the day
when he comes into the barracks in a state of intoxication. He then
follows him to his quarters and gives him some order or other. The man
feels how needless and spiteful this is, and, being hardly in a
condition to think of danger, answers with a curse. This is just what
is wanted. Even when the man is sober enough to do what he has been
ordered, he is severely punished for his curse. Should he continue to
be "insubordinate" he comes before the court-martial.
This is a very old trick in the Legion, and only recruits or very old
légionnaires under the influence of drink and suffering at the same
time from the cafard are caught by it. The average légionnaire is
careful, and, drunk or sober, obeys every order no matter how furious
he may be. "Nix Zephyrs pour moi," he says.
"Ah yes, there is another side to the proverb, 'If there were no
wine....'"
* * * * *
Every vice was represented there. The most brutal egotism and boundless
avarice ruled that hard life. One grudged one's comrade a crust of
bread, a sip of wine, or a piece of meat. The man who had a few
shillings sent him was an object of hate and envy.
Intrigue--slander--lying--theft--the Legion brings all the bad points
in a man's character to full development.
Whose fault is it?