I am ashamed to confess that I was as happy as the others as we tramped along. Of course, I was sorry for Nicholas, and as I spent the money he had left me with the other sergeant and the sergeant-major of the company, I felt that all the fun and gaiety that money can produce cannot make up for the loss of a good comrade. I took care to do as Nicholas would wish me towards my late associates, the corporals, and my former associates, the simple soldiers—they were not forgotten when the money was spent. Of course, I did not go outside my section, and I took good care that my former squad, the squad I had soldiered in ever since I was sent from the depot to a battalion, first as soldier of the second class in the little trouble with the Arabs in Algeria, in the big trouble at Three Fountains, in the troopship, at Noui-Bop; then as soldier of the first class till the end of the vengeance at a place I have not named—you may be sure it gets scant mention in the official records; then as corporal in the defeat at Lang-Son and the retreat afterwards, and at the second battle, when we recaptured the town:—oh no, I did not forget the men who were what Xenophon would call my table-companions; for their part, they thanked me but little, but we all understood.
There is no use in detailing our life for the next few weeks. We were always marching, now to the north, anon to the west, then a sudden turn to east, perhaps, or south or back towards the north again. It was all one; we looked for the enemy; we did not find him. At last a momentous order came for us. We were much reduced in strength, and the general commanding-in-chief determined to send most of the battalion to the sea coast and, if the doctors should recommend, back to Algeria. I don't think that we mustered six hundred of all ranks at the time, possibly we did not exceed five hundred. When I tell you that we were constantly receiving batches of fresh men—almost every troopship brought out a hundred or two hundred soldiers of the Foreign Legion—you will be surprised at this; but then the country is bad for Europeans, and we were always in the fighting line of the battles and on tramp here, there, and everywhere between them. Anyway, the commandant asked for volunteers to form a company to be left behind, and officers as well as men were asked to come forward.
"First," said the commandant, "I want a captain."
All the captains stepped out He selected mine. I forgot to state that my captain had been sent back to duty, as soon as the surgeons found that the blow on the head had produced only temporary ill-effects.
"Now," said the commandant, "a lieutenant."
Forward stepped every officer of that rank. The sub-lieutenant—now a lieutenant—who had come out with my company, the vieux militaire who had risen from the ranks, the man who was good at fighting and better at pillage, the man who could overlook much if you were a good looter and handed him over a decent percentage of your gains, the man with the piercing eye, the hooked nose, the spike-like grey moustache was taken on the spot. I believe this selection gave the old soldier immense pleasure. "Ah," I can fancy him saying to himself, "the commandant knows better than to take boys fresh from school." Everybody under forty was to him a boy fresh from school, except, be it noted, Nicholas. He did not understand Nicholas, but he was too old a soldier, too experienced in the Legion, not to know the ruined nobleman, the dangerous man, when he met him. A sub-lieutenant was selected in turn, a mere boy who had been sent to us for some little peccadillo, some little indiscretion, probably in connection with a senior officer's wife. Then a sergeant-major was taken, an Alsatian from No. 3. The sergeants were now called on for volunteers, and, just as we all stepped forward, a French officer of chasseurs approached the commandant to speak with him.
"Select your own sergeants and corporals, captain," the commandant cried out to my captain; "the doctor will select the men, for I assume that all will volunteer."
The captain promptly selected the two sergeants of his own company. I was delighted. I, a boy of less than seventeen, as the captain knew, though in the records of the battalion I was approaching nineteen, found myself senior sergeant of a company that was evidently to be a separate unit for some time. How I mentally thanked the officer of chasseurs for his timely intervention, for I felt sure that the commandant would not have selected me. The corporals were quickly chosen as the captain took all his own corporals who had not been seriously wounded and who did not show signs of breaking down, the others were taken by him from corporals of other companies after a hasty walk down the line of volunteers. He was a clever man, that captain of mine: all the outside corporals he selected were fair-haired. I have already mentioned that such men can stand hardships better than the black-haired ones.
When the commandant had finished his chat with the chasseur, he said:
"All men in the front ranks"—we were drawn up in column of companies—"that wish to volunteer, step one pace to the front; all men in the rear ranks that wish to volunteer, step one pace to the rear. March."