"Bashert" by Conrad Singer            Chapter 13 In the Footsteps of Beau Geste

thirteen

IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF BEAU GESTE

         “Oh Lord. I do not know what is good for me”.
                                                                                          Yogic Prayer

   I made my way to the French Army Depot, near Lyon. After a couple of days attached to the 11th Foreign Regiment, at Valbone, I joined the Compagnie de Commandement, a small group of N.C.O.s, comprising former members of the French Foreign Legion. They were concerned at all times to promote a sense of comradeship. My loneliness was eased by their companionship and the hospitality of their families. Life was tolerable until a few weeks later when officers of the French Intelligence Service came to interrogate me. I was photographed with a number blazed across my chest. I resented the treatment and complained to the Captain. The response was to post us to Algeria and the Foreign Legion. However, this mean-spirited action was to save my life.
   In the Nazi advance through France that Autumn, it was the

French Foreign Legion 1940, age 27
 brave regiments of the Volontiers Etrangers who resisted the onslaught. Receiving no quarter from the German invaders, they were decimated.
   
    We embarked in the packet boat “La Patrie” and what a splendid free cruise we were to enjoy. We each had our own luxurious cabin and the kitchens were staffed with chefs who really knew their chosen career. Soon, we were in North Africa and training in Algeria at Sidi Bel Abas. This proved to be a depot where severe training was the rule.  
       Many Jews had joined up as refugees after fleeing Hitler’s Germany. Frenchmen were admitted to the ranks only after they had given up their citizenship. We had to forget about the outside world. The regime was designed to make or break us. There was the infamous routine of the “pied de chalet” where we had to make up our beds in a specified fashion. Above our heads were racks on which the backpack was placed. Everything had to be packed to form a perfect square. Or else!!! I managed to avoid the harder punishments that the Legion was prone to dish out and even received a gift or two from the French Resistance who must have been sympathetic over my plight, and letters from my friends near Pepignan; I didn’t feel so alone. After training was complete we returned to Sidi Belab and entered its gates with Tricolor flying, marching the Legion’s traditional slow march to the tune of  “Tiens, voila le boudin”, and proudly wearing the white couvre attached to our kepi to signify we were fully trained.

Both pictures of me in different types of uniform

French Foreign Legion - on maneuvers
   After Algiers I was stationed with the 3rd regiment at Fez, Morocco. Then, after France fell to the nazis in June 1940, on the orders of Marshall Peters, we were summarily discharged from the Foreign Legion and instead of freedom, we were to be interned by the French at a camp near Boubouda on the outskirts of the Saraha.

French Foreign Legion, 3rd Regiment, Fez, Morocco, age 27, 1940. I'm standing 4th from left

    By now the weather had worsened as winter 1940 began. After a horrendous march thru’ heavy rain, sleet & snow for part of the way, finally we completed our journey to Begwent in goods wagons running on the Trans Saharan Railway.

    Begwent turned out to be pleasant enough with a small Jewish minority who were friendly to former combatants. Here I remained for over 2 years, befriending some of local families (see below) and working, involuntarily, on extending the Trans Saharan railway over the Atlas mountains. The work camps were short of water and conditions diabolical with dysentery, jaundice & typhus being rampant. Somehow I survived. Another bit of luck.

Left. Sarhara Internment, 1942, age 29

Below: Arab Jewish family that I spent the Passover Festival 
with around 1941. I'm on the right, hand on hip.

    Eventually I ended up, with 2 other Jewish guys from the Begwent camp working down a mine for the last nine months of my stay in the Sahara. Again I survived the dangerous & harsh conditions.

 

 

 

Click to enlarge

          Building the Trans-Saharan railway during Internment 1940/42.
I'm on thre left leaning on my right arm

Home      Contents

Previous       Next