The morning was given to us, so as to permit of our settling down in our new quarters.
That afternoon I was initiated into the rudiments of brick-making. The clay pit and yard were at the bottom of the western slope of our position, on the top of which was the réduit or citadel of our little fort. Eight Legionaries were employed at modelling the bricks and stacking them in the kiln (I was one of the gang), and ten native tirailleurs brought water from the well, chopped up the rice straw, and brought in wood for the fire. A picquet of ten men and a corporal, on the watch for snipers, protected us.
We stopped work at 5 p.m., and went up to the fort to take our evening meal, after which I hurried round our positions to take things in, and see all I could before the sun disappeared with that swiftness so startling to the newcomer in the East. In this part of the world there is no twilight.
Again we were favoured with a quiet night. At five o'clock the next morning, just before the bugle sounded the réveil, a sergeant-major came into our abode and gave us the orders for the day. My section, and another from the native regiment, were to start on a morning reconnaissance at six o'clock under the orders of our Captain; the remainder of the garrison was to continue work at the fortifications and buildings in construction. I soon learnt that this was the daily routine, each unit taking alternate turns at reconnoitring or building. A quarter before the hour indicated the section was lined up, outside our pagoda, facing the south gate of the fort.
We were in our khaki kit of cotton drill, and carried our rifles, side arms, 120 rounds of ammunition, water-bottles filled with very weak coffee, and a sort of heavy-bladed half chopper, half knife, which was in a wooden sheath suspended from the belt on the right side. This tool, which is a cross between a Gurkha kookerie and a Manila bolo, is about 18 inches long, and has a blade which is broader and heavier at the end than at the shaft. It is used to cut away the creepers, bamboos, and undergrowth, although at a pinch it makes a formidable weapon. A few minutes later the detachment of native troops who were to take part in the expedition, came from their quarters and formed up behind us. Their uniform, which was of similar texture and shade to ours, consisted of a vest, short trousers, and putties of the same pattern as those worn by the Muong tribes. The men were unshod, and as a head-dress wore a round, flat hat made of bamboo, which is known as a sakalo. This has a diameter of about 8 inches, is painted with red lacquer, and has a small brass spike in the centre. In shape it somewhat resembles an inverted soup-plate. This hat is placed on the top of the chignon-turban worn by the Tonquinese, and secured to it by red cotton streamers. On occasions like the present one, the head-dress was covered by a khaki coiffre, which not only hid the sakalo, but also fell over the neck of each soldier at the back, as a protection from the sun. They were armed with the cavalry musket and bayonet. This weapon was of the same model and calibre as the one we were then using, but it was shorter and lighter. In addition to the native "non-coms" in these regiments each section possessed two French sergeants. These, of course, wore a uniform very much the same as ours.
As I stood in the ranks curiously watching through the trellis-like palisade the red ball of the tropical sun as it rose swiftly above the horizon and lit up the plain before me with colours so brilliant that their glare seemed to burn the eyeball, I overheard the following remarks made by two comrades in proximity to me:
"Himmel! Sidi Mahomet (the sun) promises well to-day. We shall lose some fat before we get back, Bauer."
"Fat! I've none to lose," was the reply. "I found the last of mine in my boots yesterday, when we got back from Yen-Lé (a native village five miles south). That load of bamboo did it. I shall sweat my flesh away now. Pauvre Légion! Have you got a cibiche (cigarette)?"
"That load of bamboo!" said the first speaker, as he handed his chum his pouch. "Do you think I carried back the buthuong's (native headman) feather mattress? Schafskopf! An ironwood pagoda beam, my boy. Eighty kilos, if it weighed a gramme! I heard the Capitän (captain) say, 'This would make splendid doorposts, but it's too heavy,' so I tried it. Sacré nom! It was a blow. When we got here I was nearly dead. Kaput! Sweat? Why, when I went to the kitchen to get a drink of tea, Schmidt stared at me, and asked if it had been raining. Dummer Kerl! The cartridges in my pouch were quite wet. I believe the powder in them must be damp, too."
I joined in the laugh at this sally, and asked: