A Modern Legionary

by John Patrick Le Poer

Our small party took up its quarters, relieving the others, who were, you may be sure, not sorry to be relieved, and was at once divided into three parts. I commanded one, a corporal each of the others; as for the lieutenant, he was over all, and seemed to be ever watchful and absolutely incapable of feeling fatigue. While one party watched, the rest lay down and slept or tried to sleep. There was no cooking to be done, as our provisions were of the cast-iron pattern—baked bread and cooked meat; as for drink, we had a small allowance of native spirit and as much water as we should want for three days.

For twenty-four hours we were undisturbed, except when once the door was opened and a man looked out. Then a regular fusilade of shots came towards us. We saw that we were fairly cooped up, and that the only chance of our ever leaving the block-house alive lay in the arrival of French troops. We fancied, but this was perhaps imagination, that we could hear firing in the distance; this gave us hope and renewed our courage. Early in the evening of our second day on duty a strong attack was made not only on our post, but on the main position as well. At first this was confined to a hot fire, and four of ours, one the Alsatian corporal, were shot at the loopholes. As night came down, the enemy approached to short range, and even in the dark we were a splendid target for them. All the night they fired, and twice they set the block-house on fire, but volunteers quickly put out the flames, though at a fearful sacrifice of life. As the first beams of the rising sun illuminated the battlefield, the Chinese regulars, followed by a crowd of Black Flags, tried to storm the post. They succeeded in breaking down two upright beams on one side and tried to pour in, but our bayonets soon piled up a heap of bodies in the narrow entrance that they had made. We got a short respite now, and heard with feelings of indescribable joy a steady, well-sustained firing outside the position held by the enemy. Once more, however, the Chinese attacked. With battering rams of wood tipped with iron they broke down a clear half of one wall. Some of the superstructure fell and delayed them for a time, but this they quickly tore away, and the remains of the little garrison, having no longer power to hold the fort or hope of escape, sallied desperately forth, to sell their lives as dearly as possible. The lieutenant leading fell shot between the eyes; the rest of us rushed straight at the Chinese and bore them back. They rallied and again attacked. We fought with the courage of despair. We could make little head against them, but for all that we steadily piled up a rampart of bodies in our front. I heard as I fought the familiar war cry of the legionaries; I shouted out in reply. Just as a Chinese lifted his musket to fell me to the earth, I saw the advancing line of reinforcements. There was a sudden shock, and then came darkness on my eyes, and, when I came to, the block-house, now on fire, was blazing in the sunlight, and I felt a terrible agony in head and limbs and body. But the post had been held and relieved; the enemy were scattered in all directions, with hundreds of pursuers at their heels; there were no more short rations to be dreaded, no more night attacks, nothing now but rest and peace and warm congratulations.

Let me tell the fate of the little guard of the block-house. The lieutenant, both corporals, and eighteen soldiers were dead; two soldiers and I, the sergeant and second in command, were wounded. Both the soldiers died that night; I, the sole survivor, was promoted sergeant-major and recommended for the military medal. Had I been a Frenchman, I should have got the cross and a commission; as it was, I was more than satisfied, for did not I get the rewards won by my comrades as well as by me? For a few days I lay in hospital, and the doctors feared that I might suffer from concussion of the brain as a result of the heavy blow dealt me by the Chinese. However, all bad effects passed away quickly, and I returned to duty on the day that my promotion to the rank of sergeant-major was confirmed. The captain visited me in hospital; he would not allow me to talk, and merely said that he was glad I had survived, and then laughingly told me that "the devil's children had their father's luck." He could be sarcastic on occasion, but I did not mind; I can take a joke as well as another.

After the post had been relieved the remains of the original garrison were transferred to the sea-coast. The march down was exactly similar to all the other marches, except in one important matter, we did not have to break camp hurriedly and run after rapidly vanishing enemies. No; our daily marches were not too long, our nightly rest was unbroken, and, as we approached the coast, we got better quarters and better supplies. The men too had the proud consciousness of a dangerous and difficult duty well done. The other soldiers whom we met used to cook our soup and prepare the camps for us; that's the soldier's way of offering congratulations, and these were the compliments we liked.

When we marched one afternoon into Saigon, I was in very bad health. The reaction after the siege, with its reduced rations, its constant watchfulness, and all the little annoyances that beset a poor devil of a sergeant trying to keep the men of his section content under difficulties, together with the fatigue of the march, made me feel very ill by the time we came to the base. Moreover, I was troubled about the accounts of the company. The sergeant-major who preceded me, and who was killed in the last attack, had left the company's accounts in an unintelligible state; no one could tell whether any man had or had not been paid a piastre since the beginning of the siege, nor could you find out who had drawn occasional rations of wine and extra tobacco. The captain knew nothing; he had been too busy with fighting and looking after stores. I went to him and said that it was not fair to ask me to make up a dead man's accounts. He agreed with me, and asked me what the devil I was going to do about the affair.

"Let the clerks at headquarters settle all," I replied; "it ought to be their business and not mine."

"Very well," said the captain; "but how will you throw the work on their shoulders?"

"Easily enough," I answered; "I need but refuse to accept the books until they are set right."

"But suppose you are ordered to take them and to set them in order yourself?"

"Very well, sir; I will then claim money for every man, dead or alive. When the clerks point out to me that a certain man is dead, I will withdraw his name: in that way I shall give them more trouble than if they were to make up the accounts themselves."