THE FOREIGN LEGION

Poverty Bay Herald, Volume LV, Issue 17231, 10 April 1930, Page 14

THE FOREIGN LEGION

STORY OF AN ESCAPE N.Z. SOLDIER’S EXPERIENCE LONDON, Feb. 20. Mr. Harry Keighley, a -New Zealand soldier, whose home is now at Morley, near Leeds, gives in the heed’s Mercury an account of Ins 1 ite in the French Foreign Legian and of his escape irom that service. Mr. Keighley s narrative is as follows : —• 1 was born at Morley, and just before the war went out to New Zealand. When war broke out 1 joined the New Zealand Forces and came back to Franco with them early in 1916, and went up to Arinentieres with them before going down to the Somme. With the 22nd Army Corps we later went up to Nieuport, and after securing leave at absence when my father died at home, 1 went on to Cologne at the linish of the war, and was lrom there discharged. Back I came to Morley, intending to settle down, and L helped to found the Morley Rugby Union Club, but the spirit of adventure in inv case did not easily die down, and in a lit 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 Regiment... There’each'mail received'2so francs, which was half of his engagement fee —the fee is now 1000 francs—and wo entered on a stiff course of four months’ instruction at Sidi-Bel-Abbest. The spirit, of kindliness was not very obvious in the sergeant-instructors, 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 yon happened to be committed to it, was no joke. Prisoners had to carry a sack weighing 60 pounds about, and for breaking prison regular | tions, one had to stand facing a wall i like a naughty boy, but here in the | full blaze of the sun. I The consequences of trouble with one’s feilow-Legionnaires were different, but not always more pleasant, i The French and the Germans did not get on 100 well with each other, and last Armistice Day two Frencnmen, foolish enough to taunt live Germans, wore severely mauled. That night live 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 tlie Germans. The throwers were given long sentences in tlie interior, where a prisoner learns what punishment really can be. i 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. Reveille was at 6 o’clock, and after a cup of coffee 'ihe 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. 1 was posted to file Sports Company, and played football with the team, but contracted dysentery twice, and was sent (o the infirmary. I was inoculated, but the hospital authorities seemed to have no way of curing the disease, and although I became weak and ill, 1 determined to desert the Legion. j FIRST BID FOR LIBERTY. I 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 1 went to Paris, and while pondering the greater difficulty of crossing the Channel, visited a restaurant. on tlie Boulevard de Mcmtmarte. Unluckily the police made a raid on all cafes and restaurants in Paris that night looking for Communists and anti-Fas-cists. I was caught in the net, and at the police headquarters was cross-ex-amined. I told them I was English, had fought in France during the war, and I denied any knowledge of the Foreign Legion. But I overlooked the fact that I had given my right name, and an officer, 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 soap, and within a fortnight we were all verminous. Eventually we were sent back to Algiers, Oran, and the depot, and puce again 1 was taken ill with dysentery. After a further three months of de fention 1 was sent down to Oran for a court-martial, and got off with a six mouths’ sentence. The most serious part of my crime seemed to be that 1 had destroyed my clothes! The remainder of my term of prison was not nearly so had as it might have been. Within the limits of the regulations an Englishman was treated with some consideration, and 1 taught tho Governor’s son English. My term finished, I went back to headquarters, and volunteered for Morocco. 1 was sent through Oudjha, and Fez to Marrekesh, and thence o'ut into the wilds to an outpost about 2CO kilos away. We were immediately put to roadmaking, and tlie life was not an easy one. We slept in tents which leaked, and the weather was wet and cold at tlie 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 first-hand experience of the fate which befell a Legionnaire if he fell into Arab hands. THE SECOND ESCAPE’. Once more 1 determined to desert, ami carefully planned the venture with tlie knowledge I gained oil niy first attempt. Burdened with all the food T could At Wanganui Police Court, Mr. Barton. S.M., was asked to make an order against a defaulting debtor because he was spending Ls 6d a week on tobacco. His Worship was reported to say: “1 can sec no more reason for cutting off debtor’s tobacco than for cutting off the. sn *nr in his tea.” The magistrate apparently recognised that the-habitual smoker would go without tea altogether rather than give up his pipe. To a great many mem tobacco is not a luxury—it A a necessity. Tobacco haters say it is highly in j irious. It isn’t so long as it’s pure and good. Imported brands, everyone knows, contain far too much nicotine to he safe. Rut it is totally different with the New Zealand tobaccos. Being toasted—as no other tobaccos are —they are freed from nicotine poison and rendered quite harmless, even though you smoke them to excess. There are several brands—every smoker j tnows “Cut. Plug No .10.” "Riverhead Gobi,” “Navy Cut,” and “Cavendish,” ] and knows moreover how good they are. *

carry, and some wine, I walked away from the outpost in a snowstorm. The weather turned to rain,, and do ring the day 1 slept and sheltered, walking at night through the wild country. My venture nearly came to an unexpected end when 1 had got within a few miles of Marrakesh. 1 had to ford a swiftly-moving stream, but in the middle I was swept off my feet and my sodden belongings nearly forced mo under. Luckily I managed to grasp a jutting rock and climbed thankfully out, with a new respect for the stream. jh HELPED BY ARAB. Luckily again I met a friendly Arab, who took me to his shelter, gave me food and dried my clothes, and later escorted me on the way to Marrakesh. How, I will not say, hut 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. Profiting from my earlier experience, I had been careful to take on anothei 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 tw Boulogne. Thus I had reached tho 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 1 was unceremoniously bundled off ahd 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.—Christchurch Press.