La légion étrangère de Français
The Naked Soldier: A True Story of the French Foreign Legion, by Tony Sloane
I've always found it deliciously ironic that France's fiercest fighting force is made up primarily of non-Frenchmen. One of those non-Frenchmen, a Brit, has published an engaging account of what life is like inside a military outfit about which little first-hand information is available.
Tony Sloane was a shiftless, jobless 18-year-old whose primary desire in life was to get drunk. On a lark, he embarked with a friend on a train-jumping trip through France. In Marseille's train station, Sloane met a Legionnaire on leave who suggested that he should consider joining the Legion. He immediately ditched his friend and hopped the first train to Paris (with dreams of adventure in his head, and hope in his heart that he'd finally found his calling).
Sloane's description of Legion basic training is nothing short of eye-opening. Endless marching, repeated slaps to the head for fucking up, trips to a 4' x 4' Legion "prison" cell for seemingly inconsequential infractions ... such is the life for a Legionnaire in basic training. Sloane adds: "You don't complain. You just get on with it. You won't find a sympathetic ear in the Legion. You are most likely to get a punch around the ear and a string of obscenities spat in your face." (Hell, even the U.S. Marines don't tolerate slaps and punches during training anymore.)
Upon graduating from basic training and receiving the Legion kepi blanc (white hat), Sloane signs up for paratroop training, which he successfully completes. Soon thereafter, he's in Corsica for additional infantry training ...
Sloane tells the story of two Legionnaires being beaten in a Corsican bar by a gang of bat-wielding punks. The injured Legionnaires were quickly picked up by the military police and returned to base to be patched up. Without so much as a "Let's get 'em!" shout, a large group of Legionnaires - with Sloane right there with 'em - lined up to return to the bar to exact revenge. Knowing that the bat-wielding punks, and probably a large swath of the rest of the town, would be badly roughed up (or killed), Sloane and his comrades are instructed not to leave base on a revenge mission lest they be, ahem, badly punished. Thus, my favorite quote from the book is uncorked:
"Reflecting back it may have been the sensible decision, as it would only provoke more aggression and a war between us and the locals. Regardless, being sensible is not always right and it certainly does not always implement justice." [Emphasis mine]
Sloane is ultimately deployed to Djibouti in East Africa, whereupon he not only becomes jaded, he gets all philosophical as well. As for being jaded, Sloane describes a scene in which he and his fellow Legionnaires are dispensing clean drinking water. Now, the folks lining up for clean drinking water are desperate for clean drinking water. In the midst of all this, a lady grabs a jug and immediately begins washing her feet. Of course, she gets slapped around a bit and is sent on her way by the Legionnaires. Sloane bemoans this episode, but he fails to discuss the religious issue that would stir someone who had not a single source of clean drinking water to wash her feet with what little water ... you know where I'm going with this.
As for being philosophical, Sloane explains why he, and those who survived basic training with him, joined the the French Foreign Legion:
"We didn't join for a desire to serve France: we joined because we just had to or wanted to do something different with our lives. Once inside our only loyalty lay with our friends and to the Legion. We were totally devoted to die for France, but only because France owned the Legion. France had a great tool: an army of foreigners -- disposable and yet politically great for the voters as apart from the officers, nobody in the Legion was officially French."
Wow. A better synopsis of what it means to be a Legionnaire, I do not know.
Sloane ended his five-year hitch in the French Foreign Legion as a corporal. He resisted vigorous entreaties to re-up and become a sergeant, and he joined the British Army -- serving with distinction in Northern Ireland, Bosnia, and Iraq.
Oh, and if you think my "I've always found it deliciously ironic that France's fiercest fighting force is made up primarily of non-Frenchmen" quip is unfair, I'll let Tony Sloane disabuse you of that notion:
"I ... had a few fights with some of the regular French soldiers. They would start on us because they hated us, but they always ended up worse off."
I don't doubt Tony Sloane one second for saying that. Indeed.
I've always found it deliciously ironic that France's fiercest fighting force is made up primarily of non-Frenchmen. One of those non-Frenchmen, a Brit, has published an engaging account of what life is like inside a military outfit about which little first-hand information is available.
Tony Sloane was a shiftless, jobless 18-year-old whose primary desire in life was to get drunk. On a lark, he embarked with a friend on a train-jumping trip through France. In Marseille's train station, Sloane met a Legionnaire on leave who suggested that he should consider joining the Legion. He immediately ditched his friend and hopped the first train to Paris (with dreams of adventure in his head, and hope in his heart that he'd finally found his calling).
Sloane's description of Legion basic training is nothing short of eye-opening. Endless marching, repeated slaps to the head for fucking up, trips to a 4' x 4' Legion "prison" cell for seemingly inconsequential infractions ... such is the life for a Legionnaire in basic training. Sloane adds: "You don't complain. You just get on with it. You won't find a sympathetic ear in the Legion. You are most likely to get a punch around the ear and a string of obscenities spat in your face." (Hell, even the U.S. Marines don't tolerate slaps and punches during training anymore.)
Upon graduating from basic training and receiving the Legion kepi blanc (white hat), Sloane signs up for paratroop training, which he successfully completes. Soon thereafter, he's in Corsica for additional infantry training ...
Sloane tells the story of two Legionnaires being beaten in a Corsican bar by a gang of bat-wielding punks. The injured Legionnaires were quickly picked up by the military police and returned to base to be patched up. Without so much as a "Let's get 'em!" shout, a large group of Legionnaires - with Sloane right there with 'em - lined up to return to the bar to exact revenge. Knowing that the bat-wielding punks, and probably a large swath of the rest of the town, would be badly roughed up (or killed), Sloane and his comrades are instructed not to leave base on a revenge mission lest they be, ahem, badly punished. Thus, my favorite quote from the book is uncorked:
"Reflecting back it may have been the sensible decision, as it would only provoke more aggression and a war between us and the locals. Regardless, being sensible is not always right and it certainly does not always implement justice." [Emphasis mine]
Sloane is ultimately deployed to Djibouti in East Africa, whereupon he not only becomes jaded, he gets all philosophical as well. As for being jaded, Sloane describes a scene in which he and his fellow Legionnaires are dispensing clean drinking water. Now, the folks lining up for clean drinking water are desperate for clean drinking water. In the midst of all this, a lady grabs a jug and immediately begins washing her feet. Of course, she gets slapped around a bit and is sent on her way by the Legionnaires. Sloane bemoans this episode, but he fails to discuss the religious issue that would stir someone who had not a single source of clean drinking water to wash her feet with what little water ... you know where I'm going with this.
As for being philosophical, Sloane explains why he, and those who survived basic training with him, joined the the French Foreign Legion:
"We didn't join for a desire to serve France: we joined because we just had to or wanted to do something different with our lives. Once inside our only loyalty lay with our friends and to the Legion. We were totally devoted to die for France, but only because France owned the Legion. France had a great tool: an army of foreigners -- disposable and yet politically great for the voters as apart from the officers, nobody in the Legion was officially French."
Wow. A better synopsis of what it means to be a Legionnaire, I do not know.
Sloane ended his five-year hitch in the French Foreign Legion as a corporal. He resisted vigorous entreaties to re-up and become a sergeant, and he joined the British Army -- serving with distinction in Northern Ireland, Bosnia, and Iraq.
Oh, and if you think my "I've always found it deliciously ironic that France's fiercest fighting force is made up primarily of non-Frenchmen" quip is unfair, I'll let Tony Sloane disabuse you of that notion:
"I ... had a few fights with some of the regular French soldiers. They would start on us because they hated us, but they always ended up worse off."
I don't doubt Tony Sloane one second for saying that. Indeed.
posted by Joltin' Django at 6:53 PM
