The Devil's Guard
Disclaimer: Same as before. A shout-out to ckorkows for having given her take on journal entries and integrating them into storytelling.
The Pit, General Hawk's Office
General Hawk, Dialtone, Scarlett, Stormshadow
1 March 2002, 1456
As Dialtone, Scarlett and Stormshadow walked into the room, General Hawk looked up from his computer, "Dialtone, I have to say that I'm impressed with that program you wrote."
"Thank you, sir," Dialtone said, "A work of certifiable genius. You see when Agent Todd synchs her PDA with her laptop the program I wrote automatically sends her notes from that day to our communication center."
"Agent Hart's notes aren't quite as easily obtained," Scarlett interjected, "Given he tends to write things down on his notebook."
"I admit it is an exercise in stealth to get into their apartment and read Agent Hart's notes," Stormshadow added.
"From all your reports it seems like Agent Hart and Agent Todd are recommending Todd stay with us," Hawk replied, "And from my talk with General Flagg it looks like any thoughts of taking Todd to authorities specializing in mutants are on the backburner for now."
"So why the decision to keep those two under surveillance?" Scarlett asked.
"It's called being thorough," Hawk replied, "It's always good to know what ACME and the Secret Service know through their respective agents' reports."
"And guess what Agents Hart and Todd's superiors might do with the information they get," Scarlett nodded, as she handed Hawk a sealed envelope marked 'Eyes Only', "I see where you're coming from, sir."
"Where are Agents Todd and Hart now?" Hawk asked.
"Running an errand at the commissary," Dial Tone replied, "They finished their interview with Sergeant Sedgwick a little early. And it looks like they're stocking up on food again, probably to avoid BA's Turkey Surprise."
"Certainly smart of them," Stormshadow quipped.
The Pit, The Commissary
Conrad Hart and Caitlin Todd
1 March 2002, 1459
As they stopped at the traffic light near the entrance of the commissary parking lot Kate noticed Conrad softly singing a tune.
Les Kepis Blanc. Kate thought. Conrad's mentioned that tune before.
"Ob's stürmt oder schneit, ob die Sonne uns lacht, Der Tag glühend heiß, oder eiskalt die Nacht, Bestaubt sind die Gesichter, doch froh ist unser Sinn, ja, unser Sinn. Es braust unser Panzer im Sturmwind dahin."
Wait, that's not French, that's German, Kate thought.
"Conrad?" Kate asked.
"Huh?" Conrad said, "Oh, sorry I was miles away."
"Definitely," Kate replied, "You were singing that German tanker's song. The one you said influenced Kepis Blanc."
"Der Panzerlied," Conrad affirmed with a smile, "I suppose you're wondering why I was singing it?"
"The thought crossed my mind," Kate said as the traffic light changed.
"Being a history buff I picked the tune up in my research on the song Kepis Blanc. I actually heard it performed in Germany by the Bundeswehr choir some years ago," Conrad replied as he hit the gas.
"Bundeswehr?" Kate asked.
"The German army's post World War II name, it was once called the Wehrmacht," Conrad replied, "Anyway, regarding the song I used to sing it whenever I was driving vehicles or in the gun turret of one during my time in Africa. It's got a nice jaunty sort of air to it. Most of the verses do anyway."
"What do you mean most of the verses?" Kate asked.
"Well the last verse translates into this: And if we are abandoned by treacherous luck. And if we don't return home again. If death's bullet finds us and fate calls us away, yes away. Then our tank shall become an iron grave," Conrad replied.
Kate sighed, "Two things, Conrad. One I can see why you wouldn't sing that last verse and two you'd be a hell of a person to have on a trivia team."
"I'd happily give you a hand in such a matter, mademoiselle," Conrad replied.
Kate smiled, "Thanks. And two I notice you seem to gravitate to the German versions of Legion songs a lot. Why?"
"The standard cadence of Legion marching songs is to keep marching formations moving at a rate of 88 per minute, which is much slower than one walks down the street," Conrad replied, "It is symbolic of somberness of death and is also a sign of respect. It can also be depressing."
"Okay," Kate replied.
"Every little bit helps dealing with cafard," Conrad replied, "Even the fast and jaunty cadence of these German songs."
"Cafard?" Kate asked, puzzled.
"Legionnaire slang, referring to a metaphorical bug that devours the mind and the soul of a man driving him insane," Conrad replied, "Usually we use the term for what drives men to a maddening depression brought about by the stresses of Legion life."
"Oh," Kate asked as they stopped at the Officer's Quarters and Conrad parked the car. He popped the trunk and they stepped out. They carried their groceries up the stairs before returning to the car for their personal bags.
As they walked up the stairs Kate noticed an olive drab circular patch sewn onto Conrad's backpack. On it was a grinning skeleton wearing French army camouflage, sleeves rolled up to the elbows with the trademark Legionnaire kepis blanc worn at a rakish angle. The skeleton clutched a cigarette between its teeth while firing a submachine gun at a distant foe. The words Commando Depuis: La Garde du Diable were sewn above the skeleton.
"A unit patch?" Kate asked.
"Yes," Conrad replied, "My team made it before we departed for the Central African Republic."
"What does La Garde du Diable mean?" Kate asked.
"The Devil's Guard," Conrad replied, "One of the many nicknames the Legion has picked up throughout the years. At the Battle of Cameron in 1863 a Mexican officer that fought against the Legion said, 'These are not men, but devils'. And that is a reputation the Legion retains."
"I remember a Time Magazine article about the Legion with the headline, The Devil's Guard," Kate replied.
"In that case the article was written by a worthless leftist with an agenda," Conrad replied coldly.
"That's a tad harsh," Kate remarked, nearly dropping her bag with surprise at the intensity of Conrad's reaction.
"Is it?" Conrad said.
Kate headed to her laptop and with a few keystrokes called up the infamous Time Magazine article together with the cover photo. The caption read The French Foreign Legion. The Devil's Guard? The photo showed a young Cobra recruit, barely even eighteen years old being led away at gunpoint by two legionnaires. One of the boy's eyes was swollen closed, his lip was split and his arms were wrapped around his ribcage. His face was frozen in a contorted scream of agony.
"To quote the caption, 'Two legionnaires from Commando Ramelle lead away a recently captured Cobra prisoner. The prisoner shows signs of having been beaten'," Kate replied.
Commando Ramelle, among the first of the advisory teams deployed into Africa, Conrad thought. They served in the Democratic Republic of the Congo.
"The two legionnaires in the picture, Holck and Lipisky, actually saved that boy's life. The author clearly failed to state that fact!"
Kate looked incredulous, "By beating him up?"
"Let's not forget barely a half hour before this picture was taken the boy was trying to kill them," Conrad replied evenly, "And the legionnaires weren't the ones who beat him up. It was the Congolese militia they were fighting alongside. If Lipisky and Holck hadn't intervened the whelp would've been shot. Or far more likely hacked to death with machetes."
Kate blinked, "They wouldn't? Would they?"
"I for one can't blame the militias we worked with for such acts," Conrad replied, "The Cobra backed factions and indeed Cobra troops themselves committed acts of brutality on innocent people."
Not to mention it wasn't uncommon for us to shoot Cobra soldiers caught in the act of rape or murder. Conrad thought. After what happened to Dr. Keller bastards like that deserved to be shot. That was the point where we decided any Cobra guilty of rape or murder would be shot on sight.
"I remember one older militiaman I fought alongside. His name was Claude. His wife, three daughters and niece had all been raped and shot by Cobra. People like him are the ones I feel empathy towards. Not the hateful bastards who caused that sort of suffering. They deserved the bullets," Conrad replied evenly. I don't feel the least bit guilty that Claude gutted the ringleader of those bastards before we'd shot the rest. Every damned one of them deserved it.
"That's pretty harsh, Conrad," Kate blinked as she picked out the cold anger in Conrad's voice.
"No," Conrad replied, "Simply removing evil from the world. Nothing more."
From Conrad Hart's notebook:
One thing I have known to be true is this. Evil is to be extinguished. Period. I still remember what became of Dr. Keller and her staff. All they did was treat sick and wounded people, it didn't matter what their affiliation or tribe. Even those from the faction supporting Cobra. And what did Cobra and its allies do? They destroyed the place, killing everyone inside, and far worse. Three simple words were on my mind after that discovery: Exterminate the brutes.
To me they were simply vermin to be killed, nothing more.
Every one of us swore that no mercy would be shown to Cobras caught in the act of crimes like rape or murder that day. It made us the hated 'Skeleton Men' to some of the lower ranking enemy. I make no pretense to self righteousness. I do have things I will have to answer for at the end of my days. But I believe I carried out the lesser of two evils.
Is it better to let an evil person live or kill them and end their evil? I think the latter is far more preferable. One cannot practice evil if dead. It is a far greater evil to allow those guilty of rape and murder to live. Best to kill them if caught in the act. Vae victus!
At least we were more merciful about it. A single bullet to the head or the occasional hanging. The tribal militiamen often did far worse to captured Cobras caught in the act of rape or murder. I recall machetes or wicked looking knives or the odd immolation being preferred. And what Cobra and its allies did to innocent people was much worse.
The worst part? Finding that abattoir with pretenses of being a lab. I agree wholeheartedly with the French policy towards those scientists who performed these gruesome 'experiments': shoot on sight.
One thing about the French, when they're resolved about something, they are truly resolved about something. Nothing bears this out more than the Second World War. My grandfather was barely seventeen when the Germans invaded France in 1940. At some stage he chose to fight alongside the Maquis after the Nazis killed my great grandparents for their supplying the Maquis with provisions.
Perhaps it is best I read some of his old journals…
The Pit, Officer's Quarters
Kate Todd and Conrad Hart
1 March 2002, 1606
"What are you reading?" Kate asked as she walked into the small living room in the apartment she and Conrad shared.
Conrad looked up from a notebook he had been reading, "Some of my grandfather's old memoirs."
"The one you told me about, with the GCMA?" Kate asked.
"Tres bien, mademoiselle," Conrad replied with a grin, "But this particular notebook is from when my grand-père fought with the maquis."
"Maquis?" Kate asked.
"French guerilla bands that fought against the Germans. They initially formed to avoid being conscripted as laborers for the Third Reich, but later became active fighting units," Conrad replied, "My grand-père was barely 17 when he joined them."
"So if he fought in the French Resistance through World War II and later in the Indochina War he was a soldier his whole adult life," Kate remarked.
"I remember my grand-mère gave me his notebooks as a graduation gift when I graduated from high school. I only recently began reading them," Conrad replied wistfully, "As I read his memoirs I only wish I could have met him."
"He sounds like a brave fellow," Kate replied as she sat down on the sofa beside Conrad.
"That he was. And I've gotten a greater sense of that as I read his memoirs," Conrad replied.
"So what got you interested in studying your grandfather's notebooks more closely?" Kate asked as she turned on the television set.
"When I volunteered to serve with the Groupment Mixte d'Interventione, roughly translating as French military advisory teams," Conrad replied, "I remembered that my grandfather had served in the GCMA during the Indochina War. It initially started because I wanted to understand the type of mission I had volunteered for."
"And what did that evolve into?" Kate asked.
"Getting a better sense of who he was as a man," Conrad replied.
"And what sense do you get from reading his notebooks?" Kate asked.
"An honest and courageous fellow," Conrad replied, gently setting the notebook down, "I'm getting a better sense of someone I've never even met. And now someone I wish I could have met. Between my grand-mère's stories and his notebooks he really comes to life."
"She must miss him," Kate said.
"As I've said, mademoiselle, she walks along the seashore every morning just to remember," Conrad replied, "They met shortly after the Second World War and were young lovers."
"It's almost like how Todd and Althea are," Kate commented, and with a sigh she added, "Do you think their relationship will help Todd heal?"
"We can only hope so," Conrad replied.
"I still feel bad about telling Althea that little white lie. I mean she's a smart girl and she'll probably figure out Todd's in the emotional state he's in," Kate sighed.
Conrad replied, with a small smile, "I do think that the love they have for each other will help Todd through this."
"So do you believe in the healing power of love?" Kate asked.
"I do know love can do marvelous things, but I've seen it also cause harm," Conrad replied evenly.
"Something in the past?" Kate asked.
"It is always best to let the past remain the past, mademoiselle," Conrad replied softly before heading towards his room.
"Conrad?" Kate asked.
"Yes," Conrad replied, turning to face her.
"I'm sorry, about whatever it was…" Kate began.
"Mademoiselle, I had my own fault in those matters," Conrad replied softly.
"Maybe it might help to talk about it," Kate suggested.
"Perhaps some other time," Conrad countered.
He's not ready to tell me anything, Kate thought to herself. Respect the man's privacy. It's certainly a softer answer than he gave me earlier.
As Conrad turned to head to his room he heard Kate say, "Conrad?"
He turned to face her, "Yes."
"If you don't mind, do you regret anything?" Kate asked.
"Je ne regrette rien," Conrad replied, "It's a saying les anciens of La Legion have when asked about their time in the service."
"What does it mean?" Kate asked.
"I regret nothing," Conrad replied, "And with that, mademoiselle, I bid you good night."
"Good night," Kate said softly before she turned to her own room.
To Be Continued...