The French foreign soldier marches with an equipment called the "tenue de campagne d'Afrique." He wears splendidly made laced boots, white duck trousers held together at the ankles by means of leather gaiters, and the "capote," the heavy blue military cloak. The cloak is put on over the shirt, without any coat underneath, and its tails are b.u.t.toned back behind, so that thighs and knees are left free, and an untrammelled gait rendered possible, just as with the French soldiers.

The only difference is that the legionnaire wears the "ceinture" round the body, the blue sash, about four metres long, of fine woollen cloth, which not only gives the body a firm support, but also does service as a tropical belt, indispensable in the sudden changes of temperature in Africa, where the glowing hot day is followed by an icy cold night. The red "kepi" has a white cover, and, as further protection against the sun, a thin linen cloth-the "couvre-nuque," neck-cloth--is b.u.t.toned on to the "kepi," covering the neck, ears and cheeks. There are consequently in the Legion comparatively few cases of sunstroke, which may sound rather surprising.

He carries a rifle and a bayonet, two hundred to four hundred cartridges, cartridge pouch and knapsack, and the "sac." This knapsack is made of black varnished canvas with a unique system of straps, and has hardly any weight of its own. On the march it contains two complete uniforms, the legionnaire's linen and polishing cloths, partly in the inside and partly in "ballots," in carefully prescribed bundles. Tent canvas and blanket encircle the knapsack in a long roll. The collapsible tent-sticks are stuck in at the side. On the top is fastened the "gamelle" and fuel for the bivouac fire. In addition each man also carries one of the saucepans of the company or pioneer's implements. Knapsack, rifle and equipment altogether weigh almost fifty kilogrammes; no soldier of any other army carries such a load.

With this kit he marches over sand under a burning sun, on very scanty rations. In barracks he gets a cup of black coffee on rising in the morning. At ten o'clock he gets his forenoon soup, at about 5 P.M. his afternoon soup. Two meals a day, both consisting of soup, in which are boiled all sorts of vegetables, a small piece of meat, and now and then a special vegetable as an extra, spinach, carrots or such-like. With this he eats the French military bread, a grey kind of bread which is very easily digested, undoubtedly nutritious, sufficient and palatable.

When marching, however, the meat rations are dropped, and food consists almost exclusively of rice and macaroni. As a subst.i.tute for the bread he is served with a kind of hard ship's biscuit.

Marching always commences in the early hours after midnight. It then goes on uninterruptedly, with the hourly halts for rest of five minutes, until the task has been completed. This is a peculiarity of the Legion from which there is no deviation, even when in the field. Be the distance ever so great, it is covered in _one_ march.

The Legionnaire marches....

The Foreign Legion, as an old troop of mercenaries, works like a machine. The newly recruited human material is quickly adapted to the old, faultlessly working parts. In barrack life and on the drill-ground the officers stand in the background. For these stages they are superfluous, and their work is confined to paper reports or to an occasional visit to the drill-ground. While I was serving in the Foreign Legion I only came into close touch with the officers of my company on the march. We scarcely knew them; the captain came into the company's office in the forenoon, and was not seen again for the rest of the day. The education of the men and their whole training is left to the non-commissioned officers, above all to the corporals. They were themselves once trained in the same service and possess, with rare exceptions, great talent in training their men to be independent.

The system of the marches is brutal; the legionnaire must expend what there is in him of vital energy and human strength, but in the military service he is treated as a soldier, as a valuable soldier, whom one does not worry with pedantic demands and paltry red-tape affairs, but treats him in a sensible, I might say loving, manner, in order to draw from him the utmost he is capable of. From the military point of view he is really well treated.

During my training I did not once hear a word of bad language, and if a strong expression was used, it was done in fun. Every morning and every afternoon nine recruits of the eleventh were taken to a secluded spot, a shady avenue near the Plateau, and were taken in hand by a corporal and a legionnaire, premiere cla.s.se.

Every movement was explained to us, the purpose of every manoeuvre ill.u.s.trated precisely, so that we knew why we had to make this or that exercise. The smallest details were all explained. It was not considered a crime if in lining-up one man was a trifle farther forward than the other; but if any man was awkward at boxing, that was considered a very serious thing, and he was drilled by himself until he grasped the fact that boxing was a most important matter, which sharpened wits and nerves. In the pauses the instructors spoke to us and explained a hundred little things. The gun had to be carried across the shoulder in a certain place, because that was the easiest way of carrying and balancing it. We were obliged to work hard, but never had the feeling of being bothered with anything unnecessary. It was practical work, the reason for which every one understood.

This was repeated on a larger scale when drilling in companies.

Everything was directed towards the practical and useful; one was not drilled mechanically, but by practical methods. The company drill was hardly ever conducted by the officers, but by the colour-sergeant of the company.

Here the training of the individual to independence stepped in. In the course of the day every man was given a problem which he had to solve: the estimating of distances, the search for cover or ambush.... For instance, ten men were told off as a scout-patrol, and had to reach a certain spot without being seen. At the goal the whole company a.s.sembled, and every legionnaire could watch for himself how the scout-patrol carried out their task. Their movements were criticised by the watching legionnaires; in great excitement they debated if another way did not offer better cover, or if the patrol should not have remained longer at one point to get a wider range of view for their observations. This military criticism was looked upon with favour, and sergeants and corporals regularly took part in the discussion. This introduced into the hard service a suggestion of sport and individual interest, stirring the ambition and giving interest to the work. For all that the general work of the troop was not neglected and drill was not despised when necessary. To my mind the firing discipline, for instance, was perfect.

"Being practical" was the leading principle of the whole training. Each man knew the length of his steps and knew that he required 117 or 120 or 125 steps to walk 100 metres. In interesting instructive lessons in the field the legionnaire learnt not only the rudiments of map-reading, but was taught to ill.u.s.trate a report by a sketch, if it was only a rough one. The corporals took special pains with the talented and educated legionnaires, stirring their pride and ambition to achieve something out of the common. One had the feeling of working for a sporting compet.i.tion. On clear, starry nights the company was often alarmed and marched into the surrounding country of Sidi-bel-Abbes. Far out in the open field we stopped. These exercises were conducted by our first lieutenant. He gathered the legionnaires round him in a circle and explained to them the constellations, their movements and their relation to each other. This was repeated so often till even the greatest dunce could find his bearings by means of the Pole-star and the Great Bear.

Personal interest was brought into the soldier's work. One became independent, one knew the Why and the Wherefore. Again and again rifle-pits were dug, and sporting ambition urged us to work quicker than the next section.

There was equal compet.i.tion at the frequent drills in throwing up earthworks, and with wonderful rapidity entrenchments were built up of haversacks filled with sand. It was like watching a match to see the "escouades," the different sections of the company, endeavouring to be the first to have their tent up. With one pull they had the tent-cloth out of the knapsack, and fitted the sticks together; every one had his own piece of work--the one b.u.t.toned the tent canvas together, the other stretched the sides down tight, and the next one drove in the pegs. And like a miracle the little tent grew out of the ground. My squad held the record in tent-building with seventy seconds. It was looked upon as a matter of honour to turn out with the greatest speed and exactness, one was proud of being able to form square on the march in a few seconds. One ran like mad at the command "A genoux!"--an interesting manoeuvre, the purpose of which was to save oneself from bursting sh.e.l.ls and volley fire. When the command "A genoux!" (Down on the knees!) sounded the whole line in long strides moved closely together, every single man fell on his knees and put his head as far under the knapsack of the man in front of him as possible, each one crowding close to his neighbour. No head, no back was visible, nothing but a compact ma.s.s of knapsacks. The head of each man was protected by the knapsack of the man in front, this and his own knapsack protecting him from sh.e.l.ls and shrapnel. The "sac," with its contents of soft uniforms and underlinen, was proof even against a rifle-bullet.

Everything was practical. All the bother with the "paquetage," the paltry and exact folding up of equipment according to a prescribed plan, meant in reality prompt readiness at shortest notice. The legionnaire has no wardrobe and is obliged to put a host of things into a ridiculously small s.p.a.ce with methodical neatness. But the result of all this is that he can find every piece in the dark and stands with his kit packed according to marching regulations ten minutes after the alarm.

The Legion understands its soldiering business. One must admit that. It shoots brilliantly. The general regulations for the computation of the shooting range are absolutely ignored by the Legion. But every man tests his gun over every range until he knows exactly, when given a distance, how his own gun shoots over it: at four hundred yards, a hand's-breadth up, and a hand's-breadth to the left ... and so on. The shooting-range at Sidi-bel-Abbes is never unoccupied, cartridges are not stinted, and a company would feel very unhappy if at least half of its men were not first-cla.s.s shots. Money prizes are even given. I once got a prize of ten francs....

On the other hand, it is on the rifle-ground that one can see how the legionnaire is treated as a man. He is supposed to be a badly treated man, a desperate man, one not to be trusted. As a soldier the legionnaire must shoot, shoot much. As a desperate man he ought not to have arms in his possession. But the Legion has found a compromise. A corporal stands behind every legionnaire who shoots on the range, watching the shooter's every movement. From the same reason even the sentinels do not get any cartridges. The non-commissioned officer in command of the guard receives a small box with ammunition, locked and sealed and only to be opened in case of necessity. Is a sentinel attacked, then he must defend himself with his bayonet until he can alarm the guard and bring the officer on duty to the rescue with cartridges. Such things are significant. But they do not prevent the legionnaire from being a splendid soldier.

Individual training--Boer tactics--practical instruction ... that is the Legion. And it marches. Now and then its marching powers are increased artificially. The "compagnies montees" one with each regiment, companies mounted on mules, have even done seventy kilometres a day. Every two men have a mule. The one rides and takes the baggage of his comrade marching alongside with him on the mule. Then they change about. The mounted companies lie far in the south and follow up the hostile Arabs with colossal forced marches.

But on the whole "la Legion" depends on its legs. These brilliant professional soldiers march....

I will give you, naturally translated, my company's weekly programme as it was hung up on the blackboard every Sat.u.r.day:

Monday 6-7 Boxing.

7.30-10 Company drill.

12 Military march.

Tuesday 6-7 Gymnastics.

7.30-10 Skirmishing.

11-12 Instruction in hygienic rules in the field.

1 Work under the quartermaster's direction.

Wednesday 5.30-6.30 Boxing.

7 Company musters for bathing.

8-11 Mending uniforms, preparation for inspection by the colonel.

Thursday 5.30 March to the shooting-range.

12-1 Instruction in first-aid to wounded.

1.15 Work under the quartermaster's orders.

Friday 5 Military march.

1-2 Instruction in taking cover in flat ground.

2.30 Work under the quartermaster's orders.

Sat.u.r.day 5.30 Run over six kilometres.

8-11 Company drill.

12 Cleaning of barracks and quarters.

4 Inspection of the barracks by the colonel.

The men stand beside their beds in duck suit.

N.B.--At the 11 o'clock muster each morning a part of the uniform, to be named each day by the adjutant, has to be presented for inspection.

Inseparable from the Legion's military value is the Legion's work.

Not so very long ago Sidi-bel-Abbes was a sand-heap, on which only a "marabout" stood, the tomb of a pious saint, to which the Arab hordes of the Beni Amer made pilgrimages. At that time strange men came, gathered round the brand new flag of the Legion and convinced the sons of Amer in b.l.o.o.d.y battles that it would be good for their health to move farther south. These strange men built roads and burned bricks.

They built solid fortification walls, drained that horrid little rivulet Mekerra, which flowed so sluggishly through the sand, and which smelt so badly; they laid out gardens and planted olive-trees. The barracks, the public buildings, most of the dwelling-houses arose under the hands of these industrious mercenaries.

The legionnaire was always and is always still a workman. The heaviest work of the Foreign Legion is done on the smallest military stations in Algeria, down in the south, on the borders of the Sahara, where every day's bodily work means loss of health to a European. There the working column turns out day by day with pick and spade to build roads, whilst perhaps in an Arab village a few hours distant the civil authorities are distributing "relief" in the form of natural products to loafing Arabs. Eighty per cent. of Algeria's brilliant roads have been built by the Legion.

The trowel is thrust into the legionnaire's hand. There, now you are a mason. He builds barracks for the troops and offices for the civil administration. He breaks the stones with which the roads are repaired.

He performs the pioneer work of Northern Africa at a wage which a coolie would scoff at.

His strength is made full use of. A grotesque example of this is the custom prevailing in the 2nd Regiment, stationed in Saida, to allow legionnaires to work for private people in the town. They, of course, get less wage for this than a common workman would ask for, but that in itself would not be so bad, because even the few francs a day mean wealth to a legionnaire. The peculiarity, however, the typical side of the whole affair, is that these workers have to hand over a part of their day's earnings to the funds of their company. The company enriches itself through their work.

In the garrison life of Sidi-bel-Abbes the work of the Legion took grotesque forms. In my life I have spent several weeks on end in the saddle; while still very young I struggled for existence in the United States; I have suffered from hunger and cold, and for months I have had shivering fits of malaria--but I never experienced to such a degree the feeling that my physical strength was being pumped out of me to the last drop as during the time I spent in Sidi-bel-Abbes. I was always tired and every free moment found me stretched out at full length on my camp bed. During work I had the ambition (which to-day appears to me ridiculous) to be second to none in strength and endurance. Scarcely, however, was the work ended, when the bodily and mental depression set in.

My captain was quite right when one day at inspection he stood still in front of me and said disapprovingly to the sergeant: "Il a maigri beaucoup!" (He has got very thin!)

"Mais il fait son service," replied the sergeant. (He does his work.)

That was of course the princ.i.p.al thing.

The getting thin and feeling tired had their own good reasons. Like all legionnaires I was a working animal. Early in the morning the hard military service began. The afternoon brought the "corvee" work, and the evening the ridiculous small jobs of the barrack routine. The word "corvee," which literally means drudgery and in the military sense "work," I will not forget as long as I live, and will never read it again without shuddering. "Corvee" was a component part of almost every day in the Legion. The work was often so hard that every bone and every muscle in my body ached, often it was simply ridiculous and depressing.