Terrible Days With The French Foreign Legion.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 18407, 8 March 1928, Page 14

Terrible Days With The French Foreign Legion.

YOUNG AMERICAN TELLS STORY OF ENLISTMENT, SERVICE, DESERTION, IMPRISONMENT.

XX. Thia is the twentieth and last cf a series of articles by Bennett J. Doty, the young American, whose valiant service in the French Foreign Legion, and his subsequent desertion, imprisonment and release have made him a figure of world interest. In these articles Doty has related his remarkable experiences and described life in the famous Legion from the “inside,” as it is lived by the private. By BENNETT J. DOTY. (Written exclusivelv for the “Star” and N.A.N.A.) NEW YORK, December 30. After the revolt at Clairvaux Prison I settled into a sort of semi-conscious-ness. Day after day I did the same things in the same way until 1 lost all count of time. I did not know there was an American Legion convention in Paris, nor that my father and my attorney, Charles Campbell, were making headway with the French officials. I thought I was lucky to have had my sentence reduced from eight to four years. The morning of September 23 last, as I was going down to the dining room, the head guard stepped up to me. “ Numero douze? ” (No. 12) he asked. “ Oui,” said I, at attention. “ What’s your name —Clare ? “ Yes.” (I had enlisted as Gilbert Clare). “But you have another name?” “ Yes, Doty.” “ Ah, c’est ca,” he said, with the air of a man who knows more then he tells. “ Come with me.” “ What Had I Done?” I did not know what to make of it. What had I done? I could not think of anything. But at Clairvaux you never knew until you were punished. He turned me over to another guard, with orders to take me to the prison office. This is a building apart, where the punishment cells are. I was locked in a small cell. There was no bed in it. That meant something unusual. I had ordered coffee in the regular dining room and told the guard this. He said it would be brought over. A few minutes later I w T as taken to the prison barber shop and shaved. I knew then something extraordinary had happened. We were shaved only once a week at Clairvaux. If a man were being merely held up for punishment they would not have gone to the trouble of shaving him. I was all afire with curiosity and anticipation. Back in my cell I paced anxiously. A moment later the guard came running back. He had overheard the news. “ You are going back to the Legion,” he said. “You have been pardoned.” “ Go on! ” I said incredulously. “ Oui, oui,” he insisted. “ C’est vrai, sans blague.” •‘Yes, It was True.” I was taken before the director. What the guard told me was true. The director read an order remitting my punishment and returning me to the Legion. It was as hard to realise I was leaving Clairvaux as it had been in Damascus to realise that I had been sentenced to eight years. The director made a speech to the assembled prisoners, using my case as an example of the rewards of good conduct. I received my belongings and my transportation to Troyes and the nearest military office. I was taken to the main gate of the prison and sped on my way down the road. My belongings had been given me in a big box. What do you think was the first thing I did? I knelt in the road and searched for a package of Maryland tobacco which had been among my things when I left Albertville prison. I found it and feverishly rolled a cigarette. I took a long draw and blew the smoke luxuriously in the direction of the grey walls above me. I thought of my fellow deserters, poor Harvey (lately released), Weisser and Lass and of all the chaps who would have given almost anything for one draw at that cigarette. Then I walked to Aube. There I caught the train for Troyes' and reported. The next day I was sent to Fort

St Jean at Marseilles. I was welcomed back into the Legion with great kindness. They all knew the story of “ Clare.” I met two men who had been at Clairvaux with me and whose sentences had just expired. I went to the canteen and I spent the last of my money for what to us was a luxurious dinner. Full of Ambition. I was full of ambition to get into the Moroccan trouble, which they told me had produced a good scrap, in which the Legion was taking a large part. I wanted to re-establish “ Gilbert Clare ” as a first-class soldier of the Legion. The trip to Oran and to Sidi-bel-Abbes was a repetition of the one I described in the first part of my story. W hen T entered the Legion headquarters at .Bel-Abbes, the first person I saw was my old friend Rechad Bey, my witness at the court martial. I also encountered Sergeant d’Etienne, of my old company. There were several others who had been in Syria with me. The rest of the outfit was still in the Levant. Fresh drafts were going forward to Morocco. I waited hopefully to go with one. After several days I received inoculation for typhus, typhoid and other diseases, -was vaccinated against smallpox, had my hair cut and was all ready to march the following day, Friday, December 2. We were ordered for inspection at nine o’clock in the morning. This is the most rigid inspection of the Legion. I was sewing a rip in my tunic when an orderly handed me a summons from the Colonel’s office. I reported this to my Adjutant Chef. He told me not to go to inspection but to see the Colonel. When I went into the room he was holding a telegram from Paris. “ You understand French?” the Colonel said. “ Oui, mon Colonel,” I replied. He read a telegram from the Ministry of War directing my release from the Legion. It was almost as great a surprise as my release from Clairvaux. I had expected to serve out my enlistment and would gladly have done so. The trip back to Marseilles and subsequent events have been reported in the newspapers. There were formalities in getting my passport. I landed at Marseilles in the civilian outfit given ex-Legionnaires. It is not exactly the thing for a swell hotel, but it will make a good shooting kit. I had only time to get myself a few things in Paris and embark on the Majestic. A Welcome Sight. I suppose I should say the Statue of Liberty was the most welcome sight of the trip home. As a matter of fact I didn’t see it. There were too many reporters around. My mother and father met me at the dock. Once with them, with English, American-English, being spoken all about me, it seemed difficult to believe I was the same man who fought at Sueida. was court-mar-tialled at Damascus and suffered at Clairvaux. But all I had to do was look into the glass and see that Legion haircut to be transported back to Bel-Abbes. Then I remembered the Colonel’s injunction to tell the truth in whatever I said about the Legion. What I have told is the truth. The Legion is a hard, tough, iron-disciplined fighting unit. I knew what to expect when I joined and I got just -what I expected. When a man joins the Legion he takes no oath of allegiance to France and does not forfeit his citizenship. That is one of the reasons for the rigid control officers of the Legion exert over the men. Hence, when I was turned over to the American consul at Marseilles “ Gilbert Clare ” died and Bennett J. Doty, American citizen, was resurrected. What life may hold for Bennett J. Doty from now on I do not know. But of one thing I am certain. While “ Gilbert Clare ” lived he lived at the highest pitch a man can experience. And that is quite a lot. (Conclusion.) (Copyright toy the “Star” and the Worth American Newspaper Alliance. All rights reserved).