"Yes, I am German, and intend to enlist in the Foreign Legion," I said, very, very softly. How terribly hard this first step was! I thought the few words must choke me.
"Oh, la la…." said the officer, quite confounded.
He took a good look at me. I seemed to puzzle him. Then he chatted (the boy was a splendid specimen of French courtesy) amiably about this and that. Awfully interesting corps, this Foreign Legion. He hoped to be transferred himself to the "étrangers" for a year or two. Ah, that would be magnificent.
"The Cross of the Legion of Honour can be earned very easily in Southern Algeria. Brilliant careers down there! Oh, la la! Eh bien, monsieur—you shall wear the French uniform very soon. Have you anything particular to tell me?"
Again that curious glance.
I answered in the negative.
"Really not?" the lieutenant asked in a very serious tone of voice.
"No, monsieur, absolutely nothing. I have been told that for the Foreign Legion physical fitness is the only thing required, and that the recruiting officers cared less than nothing about the past lives of their recruits."
"You're quite right," said the lieutenant; "I asked in your own interest only. If you had special military knowledge, for instance, your way in the Legion could be made very easy for you."
Some time later I understood what he meant. Now I answered that I had served in the army like all Germans.