Fighting for the French Foreign Legion Read online

  Time passed quickly and we were soon starting the final month of tests. The written and practical tests went well, but the most important test of all was the 30k forced march against the clock. Normally it would be every man for himself and the two sections combined for this final push. Right from the beginning of the course our section had worked together as a team, helping the weakest of us to perform well. On top of that we were ‘The men from the REP’, and we all knew that the Regiment expected us to stick together. There were those amongst us who were more than capable of setting a record time for the march but we all remembered the last words of the Colonel before he left. This was about regimental supremacy. The fittest helped the weakest who by any standards were fitter than many top athletes. We worked as a group with each of us taking it in turn to set the pace.

  By the halfway stage most of the other section had been left behind and there were some very good lads amongst them. They were not given the cold shoulder by the rest of us and were encouraged to join in on the teamwork.

  It is traditional for the Colonel in Chief of the 4eme RE and his senior officers, to come to the finish of the march to congratulate the winner. We all knew who was going to come top overall in the course and he had nothing left to prove. We therefore stopped before the final bend, out of sight of those waiting at the finish, and formed up into two columns. Our colleague who was going to come first then led us in. We were perfectly aligned, jogging in step and chanting our own version of ‘Two old ladies lying in bed, one rolled over and the other one said’, in English.

  The look on the faces of the officers was worth all the effort. At first they didn’t know how to react – this had never happened before – but as we crossed the line they burst into applause. It was great to finish the course like this and we were elated that it was all over. We all gathered at the finish line to encourage the rest of the course as they straggled home in dribs and drabs. The last home was almost three quarters of an hour behind our group. In a way it was a shame because none of the participants had done badly, it was just that once more we had demonstrated that we, the ‘REPmen’, had earned the reputation of being part of an elite regiment.

  We couldn’t wait to get back to Calvi to learn our fate. We occupied the top fifteeen places and the lowest finished twenty-second. I finished ninth which was a good result considering that I was rapidly approaching forty.

  When we got back to Calvi we formed up before our Colonel in Chief, Colonel Germanos. He congratulated us on our results but could not resist adding that it was only what he had expected and that he would have accepted nothing less. Colonel Germanos was the perfect example of a Legion officer, and was loved and respected by us all. He would go on to become a five-star general and overall commander of all of the French armed forces.

  As for our indiscretion on the way to the course, he told us that we would return to our duties as acting Caporals, but without the stripes or increase in pay. He and he alone would decide if and when we got promoted.

  There had been an attempted coup in the Republic of Central Africa and the country was far from stable. The Regiment was on G1 alert and it was decided by Paris that we should reinforce the French troops based there. We would have to ensure the safety, and if necessary, the evacuation of all foreigners working in the country.

  Two days after arriving back in Calvi we were on our way to Africa again. When we arrived at the airport in Bangui there were local troops everywhere and the atmosphere was electric. Half of them seemed to be high on drugs or alcohol and were trigger happy. It is at times like this that the REP’s reputation as being a hard, uncompromising fighting unit can help to save lives. None of the locals were prepared to take us on and an element of normality was quickly restored round the airport. We installed a half-mile no-go area round the facility, ensuring that anyone entering the area was disarmed. Patrols were sent out to key installations and to the foreign workers’ residences to protect them from the drunken armed gangs that were roaming the streets.

  There were a couple of short exchanges of fire without injury to our guys and that was enough to quell any resistance. The coup collapsed quickly after that and the country got back to normal. It was decided that we should stay on in the country until they were sure that the uprising was well and truly over.

  We went back to our old base in Bouar and found everything more or less as we had left it just over six months earlier. Because we were surplus to requirements we had little or nothing to do, so it was decided that we would use the time to do some jungle training. We spent the next three weeks deep in the tropical forest learning how to live off the land with no logistical support. It was fantastic. We were introduced to some pretty awesome animals and insects, but the most impressive were the snakes. Big spiders I can deal with, but huge snakes are something else

  It was while we were there that word came through that I had officially been promoted. The last twelve months had flown past so quickly that I did not realize I had not been on leave for a year. I wasn’t complaining but was looking forward to our return to Calvi for a bit of a break.

  A couple of weeks later we were heading back to Calvi.

  CHAPTER 9

  Commando Training

  This is where we return to the action at the end of Chapter 1. Eventually my hood was removed and the interrogation began in earnest. The questions were as you would have expected in the real thing. ‘Where are you from? What is your unit? What is their strength? What is you mission?’ I replied with the normal name, rank and number, but was truly shocked when the interrogation turned violent. It took me totally by surprise even though I should have known better. If all the other training was realistic, why shouldn’t this be? I was given an open-handed slap with such force that it knocked me backwards, causing me to fall over the back of the bench onto the floor. It was hard enough to draw blood and had the effect of making me take this part of the exercise very seriously.

  After ten minutes of what can only be described as very robust questioning by my interrogators, they suddenly left. They turned off the lights as they did so, but during the last few minutes I had started to take in my surroundings. Apart from anything else it helped to focus the mind on something other than the interrogation. They obviously expected me to try and escape so there had to be a way out of the room.

  I was being held in a large room with a huge stone fireplace. It was obviously the older part of the fort because of the stone walls and high ceiling. The only window was about 15 feet above the floor level and barred. I could see the sky was beginning to lighten. I had lost track of time but it was obviously early morning and it was going to be a long day.

  I slipped my hands under my feet to bring them out in front before using a sharp corner stone in the fireplace to cut through the plastic tag round my wrists. I tried the door on the off chance – sometimes the obvious is overlooked, but not in this case. That only left the chimney.

  It was a huge affair that could have been used to roast a pig on a spit over the fire. When I looked inside I could see a small glimmer of light but it was a long way up. The chimney was certainly wide enough but it would be quite a climb. Even if I could have got out that way there was a 150-foot drop from the roof into the moat. Oh well, give it a go - that was why I was there!

  It took me all of fifteen minutes, with much sweat and skinned knees, to get to the top. The chimney was capped and although I could see out it was not my escape route. As I struggled back down I became aware that in fact it served two separate fireplaces. I had not noticed it on the way up but the second chimney took me down to a room below the one I had been held in.

  The descent was a lot easier physically but if I lost my grip it was a long way to fall. My back and feet were braced against either side of the chimney and I was greatly relieved when I stepped into the fireplace. The room was in total darkness and there were no windows, so I guessed that I was below ground level. I worked my way round the walls until I came to a large oak door. To my r
elief it wasn’t locked. No one intercepted me, but I knew that they must be watching and I had to progress to part two of the exercise -getting out of the fort.

  It was freezing cold and the sky was crystal clear. There were still a couple of hours before the sun would show its head above the mountains. If I was to get clear I would have to do it quickly, and I had to get warmer clothing, so instead of making an immediate attempt to escape, I made my way back to my room. Everyone else was obviously getting the same treatment and the room was empty. I quickly changed into my thermal boots and cold-weather gear, then filled my small backpack with what I thought I might need to survive the first couple of days. Weight would also be a factor while negotiating the obstacles on my way over the wall.

  The obstacle courses we had been practising on was now my way out of the fort. There had been a heavy snowfall the previous evening, it was now well below freezing and most of the surfaces were brick hard and very slippery. Everything has a plus side and the hard ground made it easier to cover my tracks. I did not know how much time they would allow for me to get clear before the chase would start. My plan was to find somewhere close at hand to lie up for the first day. A lot of people make the mistake of trying to run ahead of the pack instead of going to ground. It would also give me the chance to observe what kind of opposition I could expect. I knew that there would be search parties out looking for us and that the Gendarmerie would also be taking part in the exercise in the same way they would be if it was the real thing. The Gendarmerie, like all of the French emergency services, are part of the military. There was therefore automatic inter-arm cooperation for this kind of exercise. Even the local population were aware of what was going on, so I could not rely on any help there.

  Part of our brief was that if we managed to escape we should make our way to a particular location where we would join up with other escapees for the third part of the exercise. If we had not made it to the rendezvous point by the end of the third day, we should give ourselves up to the Police, having successfully stayed undetected for the required period.

  It took me about three quarters of an hour to make my way over the inner wall and moat, which was frozen, then down a cable slide over the outer wall and into the woods on the north side of the fort. I was now in the outer grounds but still had to negotiate the tripwire alert system and get past the outer fence. If I tripped the system it would set off flares and I wouldn’t get far after that. We had been training to break into the fort through this area just a couple of days earlier. In or out, it was the same.

  I cleared the area and headed deeper into the woods, making sure that I left some tracks, before circling back towards the town hopefully without leaving any. It would be easier to find somewhere to hide up in some of the old outbuildings, many of which should be empty at this time of year. It would also be a lot warmer than trying to lie up outdoors.

  Dogs are your worst enemy when trying to move about populated areas at odd hours, but like their owners, they seemed to be indoors out of the cold. I soon found an old barn-cum-outhouse with a loft storage area. The house seemed uninhabited and it did not appear as if anyone had been here for some time. Perfect. The doors were held closed by a chain and padlock but it was slack enough for me to push my pack through before squeezing in after it. It was like stepping into a time warp. The only light filtering into the ground floor came from the gap in the doors but I could see that it was full of old farm equipment and hand tools that would have been worth a fortune to a collector. They must have been lying here untouched for over thirty years.

  There was hardly room to move as I made my way to the stairs that led to the loft space. It was not much better but a little light was coming in via a half-open shutter on the only window. When I eventually managed to get close enough to the window to look out I could see that it gave me a clear view of the comings and goings at the fort. I couldn’t have found a better place.

  Although this was an exercise, the ground rules laid down were pretty strict. You could not use public transport or thumb a lift as you were supposedly in enemy uniform and in time of war that would not have been possible. You were not allowed to break any laws. If I had forced the door to gain entry to my hide, or stolen any clothes or food, I would have to face any civil action that might be taken if I was caught.

  It would have been easier just to stay put for the three days but you gained marks for your efforts to reach the rendezvous point. I would rest up for the remainder of the day and move out after dark. It was still exceptionally cold but at least I was out of the snow and wind.

  There was a stone fireplace downstairs which I used to make some hot soup from my ration pack and the heating tablets from my survival kit. You just placed them on a suitable surface, lit them and used them like a stove. They gave out no smoke to give you away and I warmed my hands up as I prepared the soup.

  Back upstairs I cleared a space by the window before enjoying the hot drink. I took my boots off before getting into my lightweight, Gore-tex bivi bag and was soon sound asleep. Being able to sleep when you can is a skill that soldiers develop, especially when on guard duty. Sleep, guard, sleep, guard. If you don’t you quickly become overtired and can’t operate effectively.

  It was mid-afternoon when I woke up. Before getting out of my sleeping bag I had a bar of chocolate and made my plans for the next part of the exercise. I didn’t have a map but it was not difficult to work out which direction I wanted to go in: downhill. As darkness fell I packed everything away and made sure that I had left no sign of my passing. It was time to go.

  It had not snowed any more but it was still extremely cold. I slipped out of my hiding place and made my way southwards out of town. It was important to keep away from the roads as there would be mobile patrols and fixed observation points set up at key points along the route. I made good progress for the first couple of hours but was aware that I was entering the danger zone. I was getting into that period when you begin to relax and as a result take risks that would end in failure. It was easy to walk straight into a trap.

  Over the past ten hours I had descended from the highest part of the mountains to a high plateau. I had a deep gorge to cross and there were few places to do it safely without being seen. From the edge of the forest I watched the area around a road bridge for over half an hour, looking for signs of an observation post. I couldn’t see anything but that meant nothing, so I took extra care as I worked my way towards the bridge.

  I kept well inside the tree line and although I couldn’t see them I suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of a camping gas stove hissing just a few yards from me. I froze immediately before retracing my steps until I was well away from the observation post before setting out to find another way across the gorge.

  The presence of this OP confirmed my suspicions that as we were on an escape and evasion exercise, another regiment must have been set the task of catching us. That added an extra edge to what was going on. I couldn’t let the REP down by getting caught, especially if it was a Regular Army unit involved.

  Half an hour after passing the observation post I spotted a foot patrol crossing a field. I kept down behind a wall, lying flat in the tall grass for almost ten minutes to be sure that they had moved on. I counted the number in the group to be sure that they had not split up. This was good practice as the following members of the group would spot you as you moved out thinking it was safe.

  I had to cross the gorge and I had to do it soon. My chance came when I came on what seemed like a small quarry or mine. There was a single cable stretching across the gorge which was obviously used like a crane to transport material from one side to the other. It took me a few minutes to establish that the site was not in use before I set out to cross the gorge using the cable. There was a 30-foot drop to the floor of the ravine and the river which passed through the centre. It was no different to the obstacles we had been training on at Fort Louis.

  Security is important, especially on real operations. You are no good
to your mission if you fall off an obstacle while trying to cross it. I took my belt off and lengthened it to the maximum. It was easy to get onto the cable and I hooked my belt round myself and the cable for security before setting out to cross. It took me only a couple of minutes to get to the other side and nobody jumped out to capture me.

  Despite the cold I was sweating as a result of my exertions. This in itself was a problem, as hypothermia could set in due to my damp clothes. I would have to find a place to hide up and get dried out. I walked for ten minutes away from my normal line of march and found a small copse in front of a rock face which would prevent anyone coming upon me from behind. The other good news was that the area was crawling with rabbits. I made a couple of snares and withdrew from the area I had set them in to prepare my hide. There was a deep cleft at the base of the rock face, not quite a cave but enough to give me shelter.

  I gathered some dry wood and soon had a smokeless fire going with the aid of a heating tablet from my survival pack. I changed into some dry underwear and got into my bivi bag to warm up. An hour later I got up, got dressed and went to check the snares. I was delighted to see that I had caught my lunch. I found a small stream close by and after breaking the ice, skinned and cleaned the rabbit in readiness for cooking. If anyone passed too close to my hiding place they would have smelt the aroma of cooking rabbit, but that was a chance I was prepared to take.

  I checked the rabbit at regular intervals until it was properly cooked – the last thing I wanted was food poisoning. The smell was delicious and I realized I was ravenous. After the meal I cleaned up all traces of my cooking and would do an other sweep before I left. It was always important to make sure that you left no trace of your passage. On a previous training exercise our instructors had scoured our camp after we had left, then presented us with all the information they had gleamed from our rubbish and odd things that had been thrown away. This ranged from the name of our Regiment which was printed for all to see on the side of a disposable lighter, to what direction we had taken from the trail of cigarette ends from that final smoke as we left camp.