A Modern Legionary

by John Patrick Le Poer

"You do not mean——" I began, but he interrupted me.

"Yes, I do mean it; and I know that they will be only too glad to get such volunteers as we are."

"They" (by "they" he meant the military authorities) "know very well that we shall be trying to escape from the fire to the frying-pan, and that we shall have only two things to depend upon to get us out of the latter—valour and good conduct. So we shall be the very best of soldiers, because, while others have merely to keep their good reputation, we shall have to earn ours over again. Trust me, they will be glad to accept us as volunteers for the war, and, listen, I know these French, when we volunteer they will almost altogether forgive us. They are very hard and strict, especially with us, and they are too nice about their honour, and they stand overmuch on ceremony and punctilio, but they are really generous, often more generous than just. When they find us trying to retrieve our good name they will give us every opportunity to do so. We shall have many vacancies in the ranks, it is true, and many a good comrade will not answer at the evening roll call, but it will be well with the survivors. In any case, I am tired of soldiering here. Why should I not see the world, not as I saw it before," he smiled sadly, as I thought, when he said this, "but as millions of men have seen it—a nameless unit in a crowd? After all, many of Cæsar's legionaries had happier lives than Cæsar." When he ceased speaking there was silence between us for some moments. Then he asked:

"And you, young one, what will you do?"

"I will volunteer," I answered; "there surely cannot be worse fighting in Tonquin than there was here at Three Fountains a short while ago."

He smiled, and said: "Was it not good practice for war? Was it not better than all the drill in the world?"

"Yes," I replied; "if someone got a thousand francs every week, we should be the finest fighting men on the earth. I mean those of us who did not go out there," and I nodded towards the mound on the eastern side of the camp. He shook his head. "Say nothing about that; it is all over now. I do not mind your saying what you think to me alone, but do not, I ask you, speak too freely to our comrades. They will soon forget everything, if they are not constantly reminded of things."

After some further conversation we separated.

I said nothing to the others about our resolve, as I wished that the Russian should be the first to explain matters to our comrades. I had more than one reason for doing this. In the first place, Nicholas, as he was known in the corps—what his real name and rank were we never learned—was my senior in age and experience; in the second, he was a man of infinitely greater influence than I or any other in the company, partly on account of his money and generosity, but still more because of his manner, bearing, and unconscious air of authority; moreover, he was the clearest and most convincing speaker I have ever heard. Again, he had brought us into trouble and had done a good deal to get us out of it; to him, therefore, all looked for further deliverance. I felt sure that, when he told the rest of his intention, all of ours, and probably all of No. 4 Company, would volunteer along with him. It would be much better for us if companies volunteered instead of merely men or squads or sections. The greater the number going of their own accord to the war, the more lenient would our officers be; and, furthermore, no man would be likely to be sent amongst strangers—we should probably all soldier together. Should Nicholas and I go out by ourselves, we should be transferred with bad reputations to a company already in Tonquin, and for that neither he nor I had any liking. If all volunteered, we might still remain an unchanged unit, even though in a new battalion, and one must never forget that when a man has been for some time living and working and fighting, yes, and looting, and perhaps doing worse, along with certain companions, he has a feeling of camaraderie, of yearning for their society, which makes it very hard for him to leave them, though it must be acknowledged that a soldier easily makes new friends and new attachments wherever he goes.

Nicholas did not ponder long before he announced his intention of volunteering for Tonquin. I don't think it took the others much by surprise, perhaps because recent events had prepared them for anything, perhaps because the Russian's acts, no matter how strange they might appear in another man, were only ordinary, natural, and to be expected in him. Any way they merely nodded or smiled, and at first no one asked for an explanation. This, however, the Russian gave of his own accord.