A Modern Legionary

by John Patrick Le Poer

"Vengeance for our comrade; kill, kill!" By scores the central mob went down. At last not more than fifty or sixty were left, and these were on their knees or thrown prone upon the ground crying out for quarter. We opened our ranks and let all the Annamites through; in three minutes not a Black Flag was left alive.

In plain words, this was a massacre—of that there can be no doubt. It is only fair, however, to put the responsibility on the proper shoulders. Therefore I say that it was meditated upon and carried out by the simple soldiers; the officers and sub-officers merely fought well while there was any show of resistance. It would be unjust to the men to say that the officers led us, for we were far too anxious to get to close quarters to require leading, but when the resistance had ceased the captains and lieutenants vehemently ordered, and, when orders were disregarded, begged of us to stop. The sergeants and the corporals asked us to refrain from killing, but they were not over-earnest about it—they understood us better than the leaders of higher rank—and they knew quite well that our desire of vengeance could be appeased only by blood. The corporal of my squad said to us afterwards:

"No doubt it was wrong, but perhaps it was necessary."

But, it will be asked, were there no leaders in the affair? Yes; there were leaders—indeed, the very best leaders that could be found for such a deed. You must understand that we had in our ranks men of education and refinement; gentlemen, let me say, who had gone astray. These were of many nations and of various crimes. I have already mentioned Nicholas the Russian. I could also tell you something of a Prussian ex-lieutenant of hussars; of an English infantry officer, son of a high official in the Colonies, who had sent in his papers after a five minutes' interview with his colonel; of the Austrian beau sabreur who loved women better than their honour and preferred cards to his own; of many others who came to the Legion as a means of committing social suicide, and who—unhappy rascals that they were—were yet good, honest, fighting men, and not bad comrades if one only put a guard upon his tongue. Two of them could not live in the same squad, and the authorities knew it. Every one of them was a second corporal, so to speak, and really, to take the case of the man I knew best, Nicholas was far more respected amongst us than our authorised superior, and the corporal was as well aware of the fact as we. Well, these were the leaders. When the officers and sub-officers, who thought only of victory and perhaps promotion, would have had us show mercy when the fight was over, these men, born and trained leaders, encouraged us to slay and spare not, and showed us an example of fierce brutality which we, angry on account of the murder and mutilation of our comrade, only too faithfully followed. We should certainly have done some unfair killing in any case, but we others should not, I believe, have been guilty of such excesses were it not for the ruined gentlemen who for once saw a chance of giving vent to their long pent-up feelings of anger with all the world—especially their world—that had for ever cast them out Long ago there was an Italian proverb: "Inglese Italianato e diavolo incarnato," and I believe it to have contained a good deal of truth at the time. Nowadays the "devil incarnate" is the gentleman by birth and breeding who has been rejected by his natural society because he has been so unlucky as to be found out.

Well, the fight was over, and we, having cleaned our bayonets, rested quietly on the field. Nobody in the ranks said a word; the sergeants stood apart from us and from each other; a little knot of officers gathered together and spoke in whispers. The commandant rode up and spoke in a low tone to them, then he went away, and the sections were ordered to fall into ranks. The zephyrs and we were marched a little way from the place, and were ordered to prepare a small encampment; the Annamite tirailleurs were sent out scouting while this was being done; there was not the slightest thought in any man's mind of pursuing the flying enemy. Indeed, pursuit would have been useless; those who had got away had too long a start, and we were very tired and in no mood for further fighting that day. About two hundred legionaries and some zephyrs were after a short time sent out to bury the dead. I should mention that our wounded had been first carried to the place where we were forming the little camp. I was glad that I was not with the burial party; those who formed it had no stomach for their evening soup. Towards nightfall all things necessary had been done—the wounded cared for, the dead buried four deep in a long trench, this for the Black Flags, and two shorter trenches, one for the legionaries and the zephyrs, the other for the Annamite tirailleurs. The camp was very quiet; the men not on guard or outlying picket lay about smoking, but with very little conversation; the officers of all detachments had assembled in the centre, and were talking earnestly about the events of the day.

Nothing was ever said to us about this ugly affair. It was over and done with; there was no use in talking about it In any case, how could eight or nine hundred men—that is, including the Annamite tirailleurs—be punished? Cæsar could decimate his legions—the day is gone by for such punishment; moreover, even if special soldiers were selected for trial by court-martial their comrades would surely have revenge on the officers, the sergeants, and the corporals. It is dangerous—take my word for it, very dangerous—to go too far with any regiment in any army. With us it would be even worse, for no one, not even the general in chief command, would be safe from our bullets if only a chance arose. I believe that we were at once the worst used and the most feared corps on the face of the earth.

Not long afterwards No. 4 Company and mine rejoined our comrades of Nos. 1 and 2. We parted from the zephyrs in a very friendly way; they told us that they liked us very much, and we paid them a similar compliment. Often afterwards we heard from other legionaries that a certain corps of zephyrs had shown them singular friendliness. In a short time the story went round about the affair, and people began to understand why this battalion of zephyrs was so well able to get on with the soldiers of the Legion. Our fellows were good comrades to them, just as they were good comrades to ours. If the zephyr had money, the legionary had a share; if the legionary had money, the zephyr did not find himself without wine and tobacco and the other things that money procures. Frenchmen of other corps did not mind. After all, it was none of their business; besides, the zephyr as well as the legionary had a rather ugly camp reputation; both were too ready to fight with men of other regiments on the slightest provocation.

In a short time we received some recruits, and the four companies of the battalion were brought up to a fairly respectable strength. Every company now numbered more than two hundred men, and at long last promotion came in the ranks. The sergeant of my section had died of wounds soon after the little affair I have just mentioned. My corporal was promoted in his stead. It will be remembered that the corporal of my squad had given the first intimation to the captain that we were about to volunteer for active service; the captain now took the opportunity of rewarding him for bringing the joyful news. There were only two soldiers of the first class in the squad—Nicholas the Russian and I. Nicholas, as the older and better soldier, was offered the rank of corporal. He refused it, as was natural. It was all right to become a soldier of the first class, because that rank saved him from many disagreeable duties, but the idea of one who had commanded a company accepting the control of a squad and receiving curses and abuse from the company officers when a soldier got into trouble was not to be entertained for a moment. The second chevron was then offered to me. I accepted it on the spot, and by none was I more heartily congratulated than by Nicholas. He went further than mere compliments and good wishes: he asked me if I wanted money to pay for some drink and tobacco for the men. Luckily, I had a few francs saved out of my scanty pay, and so I was able to decline his generous offer. At the same time I assured him that, if I wanted the loan of money from any man, I would rather be in his debt than in another's. And I paid him the further compliment—its truth pleased him—that I was, indeed, corporal on parade but that he was corporal in camp, and that I should find it hard to prove superior rank to his in a fight I knew—everybody knew—that Nicholas had more influence than any corporal or, for that matter, than either of the sergeants. He was glad that I openly admitted it to him, and a more loyal soldier never helped a sub-officer when help was really needed than he. I, probably the youngest corporal in the army—not yet seventeen—had a more orderly and well-disciplined squad than any other corporal in the service. Partly, I believe, this was due to my own desire to give fair play to all the men, but chiefly, I know, to the thorough-going way in which Nicholas supported me in everything. Every man under me felt that I would do my best to screen him if he broke the regulations, to save him as much as possible if he were brought before the captain or the commandant by sergeant or sergeant-major. Often I deliberately shut my eyes to things that were wrong in themselves but dear to the heart of the soldier, and one day I went so far as warmly to defend before the captain a man charged by the sergeant-major with a serious military offence, though everybody knew that the man's sole claim to be helped by me was that he was a member of my squad. Nicholas told me that I had acted imprudently. "The sergeant-major," he said, "will be your enemy; but there is one consolation, the squad is more than pleased. The Austrian, however," he went on, "had no right to get himself into such trouble and, as it were, compel you to save him from the consequences of his own guilt. We will punish him; get permission to go outside the camp this evening, and leave him to us." I understood. I got permission to be absent for four hours—from seven in the evening until eleven. When I came back the Austrian was lying on the floor of the hut with a blanket thrown over him, dead.

"It was an accident, my corporal," said Nicholas.