THE FOREIGN LEGION.

Press, Volume LXVI, Issue 19892, 1 April 1930, Page 9

THE FOREIGN LEGION.

NEW ZEALAND SOLDIER'S EXPERIENCE. STORY OP ESCAPE. (raox oto ow» coaßisFOMßznr.) LONDON, February 20. Mr Harry Keighley, a New Zealand soldier, whose home bow is st Morley, near Leeds, gives in the "Leed's Mercury"., an account of his life in the French Foreign Legion and of his escape from that service. Mr Keighley'a narrative is as follows : I was "born at Morley, and just before the war went out to New Zealand. When war broke out I joined the New Zealand Forces and came back to France with them early in 1916, and went up to Armentiereß with them before going down to the Somme. , With the 22nd Army Corps we later went up to Nieuport, and after securing leave of absence when my father died at home, I went on to Cologne at the finish of the war, and was from there discharged. Back I came to Morley, intending to settle down, and I helped to found -the Morley Eugby Union Club, but the spirit of adventure in my case did not easily die down, and in a fit of dissatisfaction I went to France in August, 1925, and joined the Foreign Legion. , With other men of many nationalities—Germans were in the greatest numbers, for things were bad in Germany—we were assembled at Fort St. Jean at Marseilles, and shipped to the Algerian depot of the First Begiment. There each man received 250 francs, which was half of his engagement fee —the fee is now 1000 francs —and we entered on a stiff course of four | months' instruction at Sidi-Bel-Abbest. ! The spirit of kindliness was not very obvious in the sergeant-instruc-tors, but I quickly discovered that the way to make life tolerable was to do as one was told, and never, in the strange medley of races, to "throw one's weight about." Story of a Legion Quarrel. Prison, if you happened to be committed to it, was no joke. Prisoners had to carry a sack weighing 60 pounds about, and for breaking prison regulations, one had to stand facing a wall like a naughty boy, but here : in the full blase of the sun. The consequences of trouble with one's fellow-Legionnaires were different, but not always more pleasant. The French and the Germans did not get on too well with each other, and last Armistice Day two Frenchmen, foolish enough to taunt five Germans, were severely mauled. That night five Mills bombs Were thrown into the room •where the Germans were sleeping, but only two exploded, and the only injury was a slight one to the ear of one of the Germans. The throwers were given long sentences in the interior, where a prisoner learns what punishment really can be. Life In the Legion. But to get back to my first months with the Legion. The routine at Sidi-Bel-Abbest was not too bad. Beveille was at 6 o'clock, and after a cup of coffee the men cleaned up their rooms

and their equipment, and went on to parade at 7. Instruction went on until 10.30 and again in the afternoon from 1.30 to 5. We had a meal at 11 in the morning and another at 5.30 in the evening, which consisted of soup, meat, a dried vegetable, and a cup of wine. I was .posted to the Sports Company, and played football with the team, but contracted dysentery twice, and was sent to the infirmary. I was inoculated, but the hospital - authorities seemed to hav* no way of curing the disease, and although I became weak and ill, I determined to desert the Legion. First Bid for Liberty. It was surprisingly easy. I got down to Oran, there bought some civilian clothes, and took the train to Algiers, and crossed to Marseilles by boat as easily as from Liverpool to Belfast. From Marseilles I went to Paris, and while pondering the greater difficulty of crossing the Channel, visited a restaurant on the Boulerard de Montmarte. Unluckily the police made a raid on all cafes and restaurants in Paris that night, looking for Communists and anti-Fascists. I was caught in the. net, and at the police headquarters was cross-examined. I told them I was English, had fought in France during the war, and I denied any knowledge j)f the Foreign Legion. But I overlooked the fact that I had given my right name, and an ofllcer, looking down a list of deserters from the Legion, found it there, and into the cells I went instead of to Boulogne. Sentence of Six Months. Escorted by two gendarmes, I was taken back to the fort at Marseilles, and there for a month was confined with other deserters in the tower. We had no spap, and within a fortnight we were all verminous. Eventually we were sent back to Algiers, Oran, and the depot, and once again I was taken ill with dysentery. . After a further three months of detention I was sent down to Oran for a eourt-martial, and got off with a six months' sentence. The most serious part of my crime seemed to be that I had destroyed my clothes! . The remainder of my term of prison was not nearly so bad as it might have been. Within the limits of the regulations an Englishman was treated with some consideration, and I taught the Governor's son English. My term finished, I went back to headquarters, and volunteered for Morocco. I was sent through Oudjha, I and Fez to Marrekesh, and thence out into the wilds to an outpost about 200 irilos away. . A , We were immediately put to roadmaking, and the life was not an easy one. We slept in tents which leaked, and the weather was wet and cold at the high altitude, so that we were rarely dry or warm. . There was constant alertness in the outposts. Arab night attacks were frequent, and once when with a party I went out to meet a convoy, I saw three dead comrades, and had firsthand experience of the fate which befel a Legionnaire if he fell into Arab hands. The Second Escape. Once more I determined to desert, and carefully planned the venture with the knowledge I gained on my -first attempt. Burdened with all the food I could carry, and some wine, I walked away from the outpost in a snowstorm. The weather turned to rain, and during the day I slept and sheltered, walking at night through the wild country.

My venture nearly came to an unexpected end when I had got within a few miles of Marrakesh. I had to ford a stream, but in the middle I was swept off my feet and my sodden belongings nearly forced me under. Luckily I managed to grasp a jutting rock and climbed thankfully out, with a new, respect for the stream. Helped By Arab. Luckily again I met a friendly Arab, who took me to Mb shelter, gave me food and, dried my clothes,'and later escorted me on the way to Marrakesh. How, I will not say, but I had secured some forged discharge papers, and had no fear in entering the town, which has a population, mostly Arab, of nearly 200,000. Equally important, I had money, and through another Arab was provided with the garb" of a tourist. Thus dressed, and showing, as I hoped, a tourist's interest in everything, I travelled by stages to Algiers,, but to reduce risks snatched sleep on the trains and passed the nights in cafes or wandering about. An Assumed Name. Fronting from my earlier experience, I had been careful to take on another name, and was now Mr de Trafford. Again there was no difficulty in crossing from Algiers to Marseilles,. and this time I did not stay in Paris, but made a quick journey to Boulogne. Thus I had reached the last but trickiest stage of the journey. I puzzled my wits, and diplomatically approached a British official,- but as soon as a hint was dropped of the Legion I was unceremoniously bundled off and received no help, official or unofficial, from him. For a week I stayed in Boulogne, and had an uneasy feeling I was being followed by a little fellow who, I was sure, was some sort of a detective officer. I do not want to give details, for others may want the help I eventually found, but finally, with a throbbing heart, I found myself on board ship. Part of my trick to get aboard was to tell some incoherent story about a trip to Boulogne, a spree, lost papers, and a hearty remorse. I did celebrate, as a matter of fact, but not until I once more found myself in England again, a free man.