I replied, “I bet you’re making a trip for nothing.”
“What will you bet?”
“Oh, I don’t know—a glass of beer.”
“Good, that’s a go,” said the Corporal. “Ah’ll help ye drink it,” said the Scot.
The Commissaire examined my papers closely. Turning to the Corporal, he asked, “What have you brought this man here for?”
The Corporal replied, “He speaks very good English and not very good French.”
The Commissaire observed, “I don’t know about his English, but he speaks better French than you do.”
“We don’t know who he is.”
The Commissaire responded, “This man is a soldier of France, an American citizen, a volunteer in the Foreign Legion. His papers show that, and his identification badge confirms it. The papers also state he was wounded in the forehead. Look at that scar! The papers show he is returning to his regiment. Here is his railroad ticket. What do you want with him? What charge do you enter against him?”
The Corporal looked uncomfortable. The Scotchman walked away. The Commissaire came around the table and shook hands with me. In horror, the Corporal whispered, pointing to the Commissaire, “He is a Colonel!” and started to walk away. I called out, “Here, where are you going—aren’t you going to buy that beer?”