Chuck vs The Wayward Legionnaire
Chapter 10: Commando Chuck, Legionnaire Chuck.
27th August. 2009. Mont Louis, Southern France. 03.00hrs
They came for him in the night, still half asleep he was bundled from his bunk, made dress and a black hood thrown over his head, his hands were secured by tie-wraps behind him, he was then marched non-stop until he lost track of time, inside, outside, doors opened and closed, upstairs and downstairs, he was pretty sure it was in circles but any attempt at communication was silenced with a rap from the butt of a rifle to his back of his head. He wisely held his peace.
Finally, he was brought to a room, roughly placed in a chair and the hood torn off his head none too gently, he blinked as a harsh light was shone in his face, the guard left the room, so now he knew where the door was. A hard voice called his attention to the light, and he turned to face it. Squinting, he could make out two shadowy figures behind it. One stood up and walked towards him. He didn't recognise either man.
There then began what he discovered was a fairly brisk interrogation, the questions came fast, "What is your mission?", "How large is your force?", "What is the name of your unit?", as well as the usual stuff, there was hardly time to answer before the next one came and the next. It was a standard technique, designed to keep him off balance and he answered in the time-honoured fashion, name, rank and serial number. Things suddenly became a bit livelier when the man behind him wheeled out of the darkness and delivered an open-handed blow to the side of his face, he shot out of the chair onto the floor!
He gasped with the pain as the two men wrenched him up by his arms forcing pressure on his tied wrist joints, he was slammed back into the seat with greater force than before, his breath became harsh, vision blurring, the men began shouting the questions more forcefully in his face, a few more slaps followed as well as the odd punch to his stomach, he was fit though and managed to roll with a few of them. He stuck to the script, endurance was key now, he forced himself to control his breathing…
Finally after what seemed like an eternity but was probably only ten minutes and several trips to the floor, he found himself back in the seat again, one of the men stood over him, pulling his head back the interrogator glared in the man's eyes, he waved a none too friendly fist in the man's face and informed him they would be back shortly, and his attitude had better be changed by then. He let the man's head go, the sitting man kept his mouth shut and his eyes on his boots. They left.
He waited about five minutes before glancing at the door behind him, he watched the light under the bottom, no shadows, they really had left, he heaved a sigh of relief and dropped to the floor, pulling his knees up he worked his hands around in front of him and stood up.
The room was bare except for the chairs, table, desk light and a fireplace, he walked to that and finding a sharp edge quickly cut the bindings off, he rubbed his wrists. Well, he thought, looks like you're on your own. He had made it through the initial interrogation, time to get out of here!
He went to the door and tried the handle, locked, he wasn't frustrated, it had been worth a shot, sometimes the obvious answer was the obviousanswer, but not this time. He walked back to the old fireplace, it was large, made of stone, he smiled as he imagined a roast pig on a spit turning in front of him. He could just about walk in under the mantle, he did so, looking up, he could see the night sky above.
Quickly he braced himself against the inside walls and began the slow climb upwards. Ten minutes later he had scaled the flue only to find the chimney had been capped, he pushed at the grating, no use! He grunted as he strained, it was secured too well, even so, from the top of the old fort it was at least 150ft to the outside grounds. No… he had missed something…
He looked back down the shaft, there was a patch of darkness that even in the gloomy light was deeper than the surrounding flue, how had he missed that? He slowly lowered himself again, he quickly realised there was another room sharing the chimney! He eased himself into the opposite shaft and began inching downward, he discovered the room below was lower than the first one they took him to. He felt a few loose stones in his hand, and he dropped one.
The impact was almost immediate, summoning his nerve in the pitch darkness, he tucked his arms and knees in and dropped, the landing was still a surprise but luckily the grate was empty, and he rolled forward into the new room. He stood gingerly; breathing heavily, he wiped his sooty hands on his trouser s and felt behind him for the wall, he tapped his way around the room until he felt wood, the handle was next, he slowly opened the door and peeked out.
A long corridor was in front and behind him and on the other side he saw an opening with a set of ascending stairs, he quickly stepped out closing the door and ran up the stairs to another closed door, he opened that quietly, he was in the courtyard! He saw he had been below his sleeping quarters; they were on the next floor above. He heard a door open above and the slow steps of a sentry, he had performed guard duty himself, so he knew the route, he closed the door behind him and stepped to a low wall that bordered the walkway he was on, he mounted it and reached up to the floor above.
Sucking in a breath, he grasped a railing and hauled himself up and peeked over the balcony wall, the sentry had reached the end of the walkway and entered a doorway, he quickly vaulted over and entered his quarters, he grabbed a small knapsack quickly loading it with a few necessary items. He also changed his clothes for his thermal boots and cold weather gear. A glance around the room at some open lockers told him he wasn't the only one to have the same idea.
He left his room and quickly made his way to the North end of the fort, there he knew he would begin his second goal, escaping the fort.
The fort in question was the Le Centre National d'Entrainement Commando (CNEC), France's number 1 training centre at Mont Louis in the Pryenees. Used not only by the French by also by the US SEaLs and British SAS and Royal Marines to name but a few, it was held in high esteem by the military world as one of the best.
As he assessed his options, he reflected on how he got there.
After the march, Robie and Chen had spent a month on a course run by a specialist unit of the Gendarmerie in Paris called the GIGN (Groupe d'Intervention Gendarmerie National) with a few others from other sections learning all about military computer systems and communications devices.
Everything from building and using them and constructing ad hoc ones, repairing them and the use of Morse code and cyphers was covered. There were courses on interpretating military reconnaissance photos, intelligence report writing, and in truth Robie had enjoyed it all, he absorbed the information like a sponge.
Chen found it harder, his knowledge of electronics and other systems was not as deep, still Robie was quick to share his expertise, and Chen and the others attending found their skills rapidly improving under his tutelage. Robie was humble and shared his knowledge freely, even the officers running the course learned a few things. Robie had a mixed bag of emotions at the memories of the Buy More cage days it evoked.
Delon was delighted with the results on the Certificates of Completion, his assessment of Robie's abilities had proven spot on. Sean Murphy gave him a big thumbs up when he saw him. There was another week of basic training and then another month had passed, Robie was happy, there was a lot of mundane work, but all his recent achievements were his own, he felt worthwhile, more than just the thing in his head.
The week after they returned they were all carted off to Collioure, a small town on the coast near the Spanish frontier, there an old fort that was used as a confidence booster prior to the full on training they would receive at Mont Louis, for a week they tackled the 120 ft sea walls, crossing moats, abseiling off roofs into windows, individually negotiating obstacles or working as a team, all under the watchful eyes of the instructors, safety harnesses were worn and a zero tolerance attitude was adopted towards any reckless behaviours as poor Erik quickly found out!
He demonstrated great skill, balance, and co-ordination, but his near blindness to personal danger was halted after a two-day stint in the mess for a particularly madcap stunt when he bounded from sea stack to sea stack without a harness 100 ft off the slippery seaweed coated coastal wall. Sastre had nearly had kittens and his displeasure was doubtlessly heard by tourists walking on the nearby beach a mile away, as the fiery Spaniard let the unfortunate recruit know his thoughts on the matter!
After a week of preparation, they were declared ready for the more serious challenges of Mont Louis, 2000 ft above sea level and inside the snowline. As they arrived there was signs of early frost and ice on the grounds. The balmy coastal weather changing to the colder climes of a higher altitude.
Still, they took it in their stride, the Legion training was one of constant challenges, and the CNEC had three difficulty levels, Yellow, Red, and Black, the CNEC instructors didn't expect everyone to make Black, unfortunately for Robie and his fellow trainees, Delon did!
The first two weeks had been a repeat of Collioure, only on a grander scale and Robie now quickly realised that the ways and means of breaking in formed his exit strategy for breaking out! It took him three quarters of an hour to finally breach the inner walls and moat, care was needed as every surface was slippery with ice and treacherous.
He took his time, he found a cable slide and soon was standing in the outer grounds, again caution was needed, a maze of flare tripwires was next, he didn't fancy tripping them, alerting the sentries and failing at this early stage.
He looked at the night sky again, it was starting to brighten, he needed to get to shelter fast, luckily the hard ground helped mask his tracks from the patrolling sentries, now though he needed to do exactly the opposite. He dipped into a small wood, finding what he was looking for, he lay down a confusing trail before he jumped to catch a low branch on a tree near a small wall, hand over hand he traversed it until he dropped out on a small country road.
Staying low he quickly made his way to where he intended to hole up for the day, he knew the local Gendarmerie would be in on the hunt, they were also a branch of the French military, the locals had probably been alerted too, he could expect no help there, his greatest fear now, as he approached his target was dogs. It was a rural area; they were working animals and likely alert for marauding predators such as wolves or foxes.
He saw the small holding ahead of him, he smiled, his classes in Paris had paid off, he'd paid close attention to the local maps during briefing, he stayed downwind as he carefully circled the farm, there was no noise from the house and the farmyard was full of overgrown weeds and abandoned machinery parts. He saw the barn at the far end.
He abandoned stealth. Walking quickly to the barn doors he saw a loose chain holding them closed, the rules were clear, he was liable for any criminal damage he caused if he was caught, same for stealing food or clothes, the survival training he'd already received meant he should be self-sufficient, he could do shelter building, but he had a plan.
There wasn't much give in the chains as he had thought, but he pushed his pack through and stripping to his underwear he managed to squeeze through, he lost a bit of skin in the process but at least he was out of the elements. Inside he stopped, dressing quickly, he pulled out his small flashlight, it was like he stepped through a time warp; the barn looked like it hadn't been used in a very long time, the smell of rotting hay hung in the air, he didn't recognize much of the agricultural machinery but then he was a city boy.
He saw what he was looking for though at the end of the barn, a loft! In the other corner he spotted a ladder leading to an opening in the floor above, he quickly scaled it and drew it up after him, he closed the hatch gently and carefully approached one of the windows he'd noticed, he smiled again, perfect! His route had taken him back within sight of the fort main gates; from here he could easily watch the comings and goings of the search parties.
He yawned, he was tired from his escape and interrogation, he set up a small tin in a stone fireplace and using some heating tablets from his kit he made up some soup from his rations, he laid out his emergency lightweight Gore Tex bivi bag and taking off his heavier gear slipped inside. His eyelids grew heavy, he set a small timer in his military issue watch and dropped off. Sleep was an important ally in his mission, he couldn't afford to be overtired.
He awoke by mid-afternoon, it was a bit warmer, he quickly made a coffee and had a bar of chocolate while he ran through his plans for the coming night. It was now day two of a three-day exercise, he needed to reach a set of co-ordinates avoiding capture and complete an as yet undefined task for mission completion and course success. He took some of the soot from the fireplace and fashioned some camo face paint, there was some old, dried mud too, a drop of canteen water and he had some workable materials, he applied them.
The night eventually arrived, and he slipped out of the barn, using the stars he plotted a course to his next campsite. The sky gradually drew clearer, and the temperature was dropping again, he clung to the shadows as for the next six hours he negotiated his way downhill to a small bridge that was his primary crossing point. He expected more frost, so he watched his footing.
He slowly moved through some underbrush in a small forest he'd entered, the air was heavy with the scent of pine trees, and he found his mind was drifting as he tried to keep the road he was following in sight when he suddenly froze!
Somewhere just ahead of him he heard the unmistakeable popping sound of a small camping gas stove! He eased down on his knees, thankfully he was in a shadowed area, nearby he could hear a small stream gurgling as it made its way downhill. There! He glimpsed a flash of light in the trees to his right, the cardinal sin! A smoker. His ears strained but he could hear no one making their way towards him, he got on his stomach and slowly, carefully crawled back the way he came.
After a few minutes he reached an old stone wall bordering some fields and he sat for a moment with his back to it, that tore it, he thought, he peeked over the wall, there was the bridge, but the OP he nearly stumbled on had an excellent view of the whole area, he was sure there was probably more men concealed near the bridge waiting for an unwary recruit to stumble into their grasp, he figured it was French regulars, it would be quite a coup for them if they captured a Legionnaire, not to mention painful for him!
That added an extra edge to the exercise, he moved uphill again around the bridge, he thought quickly, he'd have to find another way or make one. Half an hour after avoiding the OP at the bridge he spotted an eight-man foot patrol crossing another field in front of him, he slowly crouched again, when he looked up, he only saw seven men, he watched as they exited the field, after a few moments the last man popped up, looked around and quickly ran after his section, Robie smiled. It had been a good ploy, but he had covered that tactic in training.
He followed a small gorge downhill again, it wasn't particularly wide or deep about thirty foot or so, but he knew the river that ran through it was a mountain stream, and the water would be icy cold, he didn't fancy getting soaking wet or stripping off in case he was spotted and had to run, he decided to keep walking, turning a corner in the hilly area a few kilometres later his patience was rewarded, there in front of him was a small quarry or mine and stretching across it was a cable that moved the bucket containing the ore for transport.
It was exactly like the obstacles he'd trained on back at the Centre, he quickly undid his belt, he opened it out wider than his waist, now it was going to double as a safety harness, he quickly wrapped it around the cable and refastened it around himself.
He slipped on a pair of gloves, the cable looked rusty, and he didn't want a bad cut out here with no proper medical attention, he only had his basic kit.
A couple of minutes later after some hand over hand, he dropped to the ground on the far side, nobody had jumped out from the surrounding shrubbery, he figured he had gotten lucky. The next problem was his exertions had made him sweaty and that meant damp clothes, he was going to have to dry them out or risk hypothermia, clearing the gorge he walked about five minutes again before he spotted what he was looking for.
A small copse stood in front of a rock face, it was blocked in the front by some thorny brambles, but he reckoned he could just make out a darkened space behind them, he also realised that there was an abundance of wild rabbits scampering around the area, they moved off at his approach but stayed in sight. He quickly fashioned some snares and after careful selection of possible trap points laid them and returned to the rock face.
He hugged the rocks trying to push in behind the brambles without leaving any damage that might alert a passing patrol and found exactly what he'd hoped for, a small cleft at the base of the rocks, it was low about waist high but perfect for a hide for the day, he cleared out some rubble and bramble brushes, carefully placing them in the higher parts of the other bushes, with luck they'd hold their colour until he left.
He prepared a small smokeless fire with some dry wood he found and another heating tablet from his kit, he laid out some ferns on the ground he'd gathered from the river and put his bivi bag over them, he stripped down to his underpants and using sticks and the reflected heat from the surrounding rocks soon had his clothing dry, he dressed himself gratefully feeling the residual heat from the drying, warm his bones.
He went back to check on his snares and to his delight, found he had a couple of customers, he gritted his teeth and performed the deed. He took the bodies to the riverbank and using his combat knife prepared the carcasses, it wasn't an In 'n' Out burger but it was protein, and he was starving, Legion rations did the job, but his body craved more than the usual tasteless MREs.
He returned to the hide, using a spit he slowly cooked the rabbits, he constantly checked the cooking, food poisoning was another thing he'd prefer to avoid! He had added a small packet of seasoning from his kit, he inhaled the aroma, nothing had ever smelled so delicious, he felt his mouth salivating, he had stopped worrying about a patrol detecting his meal as hunger overcame everything else, and it was a very happy Robie that sat eating the meat with the juices running down his face as he moaned in happiness, his stomach growled in unison!
He was tired again, but his training asserted itself and he carefully swept the area for any traces he might have left before he bedded down, A previous exercise under the watchful eyes of Delon and his team had been brutal, after leaving an impromptu campsite they had walked a kilometre before they realised Sean and Barczar had remained behind, Delon had them march back.
With grim faces, the two caporals had torn into the section showing the men everything they had found from policing the area, food wrappings, cigarette butts, one champion had even dropped a used lighter with the Castelnaudry regiment name on it a short way from the campfire which had been left intact and not dispersed after use. From the dropped materials the NCO's demonstrated an enemy could have easily discovered their identity, force size and direction of travel and be waiting ahead in ambush.
There followed a period of punishment drills, and it was a disappointed and angry Delon that stood before them as he reminded them, they were potential Legionnaires, and they were expected to be always switched on! Shamefaced they had looked at one another, they got the message.
It was late afternoon when he was awakened by the sound of footsteps and voices slowly nearing his position. A patrol! The sound of his breathing had never seemed louder in the confines of the cleft, he resisted the temptation to move. Thankfully his fire had long since burnt out.
He listened as the group stopped maybe twenty feet from the hide. It was a bunch of regulars, they were moaning about the fact they were on this exercise, by the sounds of it, one had missed a hot date with his girl. Robie stifled a laugh. There was a sudden splashing sound in front of him and he realised that one of them was pissing on the bushes, he recoiled from the entrance fast!
Again, luck favoured him, his movements were masked by the bushes and any noise he made was hidden by the sounds all around him, still it made for a nervous twenty minutes before the NCO in charge called the men to regroup, grumbling aloud to themselves, they gathered their equipment, formed up and moved out.
He let out an anxious breath of relief, his earlier attention to detail on camouflaging the hide had paid off, he relaxed and brewed up hopefully his last meal on the exercise, he sipped another soup as he waited for the evening again and as the sky darkened, he rolled up his bivi and quickly gathered his kit and prepared to move to the rendezvous point.
The going was easier now and he encountered no more patrols, he thought about the final phase of the exercise, a planned attack on an enemy asset, he knew from what he remembered of the maps he'd studied of the area that there were a few high-profile targets nearby, he reckoned he get a fuller briefing at the meeting point.
The temperature dropped again, and he pulled a merino wool neck gaiter up across his lower face covering his mouth and nose so the plumes of exhaled air wouldn't expose him to any watchful sentry. He followed a small valley until he came to a small lake, on the far side he saw a Dam. A hydroelectric Dam. So, this was the target. They were to be issued with some dummy charges by the NCOs on making the rendezvous. There was a mission timed for 5 am and by his watch he saw it was about 02.00hrs. He settled down on a small hill overlooking the area and waited.
He didn't have long, about 30 minutes later he felt rather than heard somebody crawling towards his position, it was Erik, the big Dutchman had a wide grin on his face, he high-fived Robie and settled in beside him. Not long after that they both tensed as they saw shadowy figures slowly appear in the area at different points. The rest of the Groupe had arrived! As far as they could make out nobody had been captured and better yet, nobody looked injured. They waited again.
About 03.15 a Legion Technamm Masstech T4 laboured it's V6 diesel engine up the valley and turned into the open field below. Sean Murphy and Damian Barczar with Dario Sastre disembarked and quickly built a campfire, a large coffee pot was placed in the embers and soon the aroma of a fresh brew came wafting up the hill to the men's position. There was a lot of lip smacking heard in the cold night air.
At 03.45hrs the men quietly descended the hill to the waiting NCOs, their names were quickly checked off and they were allowed a mug of fresh coffee, there was another surprise as Sastre took a large, insulated cooking pot from the rear of the jeep and the men rejoiced as it contained a meaty stew of some sort, there was also rolls of bread and they tucked in.
Sastre drew a plan on the ground of the dam and explained the plan of attack, he issued the dummy charges and assigned placements on the map to each man. The plan was to disrupt the generating capacity of the Dam, this would in turn cause major disruption to the region, none of the unit was fooled however, had the plan involved rupturing the Dam walls as it surely would have in reality, the resulting flooding would have caused massive loss of life in the three local towns nearest the Dam in addition to the loss of power. It was a serious realisation for Robie and the section, this was no game.
The teams were quickly set up, two men apiece, four in total, they quickly negotiated the lake and made their way to the dam. With hand signals and torches they quickly reconnoitred the facility and sentry positions.
Across the lake in a mobile command unit, Delon and CNEC instructors watched the proceedings, a regular French army unit comprising of some additional GIGN members had been detailed to protect the Dam, they had been issued their orders, stop the attack at all costs!
Delon hadn't been privy to the defensive set up, so his men were going in blind. He watched the timer on the wall, the penetration was due for 5am and mission complete 45 minutes later, he'd passed on instructions that he wanted the Castel flag left in the control room. A final thumb of the nose from the Legion to the regulars and he had a small bet riding on it!
He watched as his men carefully approached the dam, they moved surely and silently, the Commando course had prepared them well, the outer door to the mobile command centre opened, Sean and the others had arrived, donning headsets they quickly orienteered themselves on the CCTV system.
There was a murmuring of appreciation from the assembled instructors as Chen and Erik took down the sentries, the two men moved well, Vanderlaan again impressing as his skill with a blade was shockingly efficient, the guards never stood a chance. Delon motioned Sean over, "What did you find out about Chen and Vanderlaan?" Sean nodded; he knew exactly what the Lt. wanted. "Yes sir, well as I suspected Chen is decent in Wing Chun… Bruce Lee shit…" he added at Delon's blank look.
"…turns out one of his relatives back in Taiwan is a master so the whole family learned, Vanderlaan is Dutch sir…" Delon nodded, "What of it?"
"Well, the Dutch were a colonial power from the good old days and as you know Indonesia was one of their main stomping grounds…" Delon did, France still had some territories from its colonial past. Legion units were still employed there, rendering local aid, or running military operations.
Sean continued, "…well turns out his family had some holdings there, his Grandad was a big noise, did some tribal elders a turn, they had no money to repay what they saw as a big debt so an offer was made that they would train Vanderlaan's male family members in perpetuity in their local Art, Pencak Silat, so…" he indicated Erik on the screen.
Delon turned in his chair to face Sean, his eyebrows raising incredulously, "So you're telling me I somehow managed to acquire some martial arts virtuosos for the unit?" Sean smiled, "Looks like it Lt.!" The two men chuckled.
He quickly added, "I'm not exactly chopped liver myself!" They both knew Sean was one of the unit's unarmed combat instructors.
Delon shook his head; he turned back to the screens.
The men had successfully infiltrated the Dam, quickly they ran lines down the face of the Dam itself, and quickly abseiled down to the openings for the outflow pipes below the giant turbine generators, as he watched a two-man team broke off heading for the control room.
Maksym and one of his Ukrainian buddies, Vadym Kryvenko, made their way stealthily to the control room, with their former training in a nuclear power plant layout Delon had hoped that familiarity would be of use, he had asked them to place the flag on the plant manager's office wall.
The rest of the men entered the Generator areas and quickly placed their dummy charges, time was of the essence now, they had timed the attack to occur before the local populace got out of bed and the demand for electricity woke up the sleeping turbines.
Charges set, his men withdrew and triggered them, they were of a flash bang variety, they detonated harmlessly, and the instructors were pleased to note all had worked in unison, the attack was judged a success! Delon took a screamingly loud phone call from a not amused Officer in Charge of the guards at what he called the rough housing of his men by Erik and Chen plus the mocking with the flag, but a victory was a victory.
Delon accepted the plaudits from his peers, his men had returned to the last meeting area to find a bunch of T4s waiting for them, they quickly entered them, and it was a short drive back to Mont Louis and their dormitories, they were congratulated by the CNEC staff and Delon before being dismissed for a short rest. A hot shower later and some breakfast and they almost felt human again!
At about Midday they were summoned to the courtyard where the centre commandant and his team had set up for the successful awarding ceremony and they were all presented with the coveted Entrainment Commando badge, Sean and the other NCOs had won the gold Moniteur version by virtue of their promotions and the training that went with that, equally for officers, they received two months training at the centre during their time at St. Cyr, so Delon already wore the gold Instructeur badge. Leaders in the Legion were always expected to go that extra mile.
After the ceremony the men returned to Castelnaudry, things slowed down a bit, there was more emphasis in lessons placed on the organisation of French Military Forces and their history and structure and the Legion's place within that. They quickly found they had come a long way in the past four months, nobody was fooled though, the dreaded 4-day 150km Long March loomed in everybody's thoughts and they drilled hard as ever to maintain their fitness.
Delon watched their progress carefully, they were like knives, sharp and deadly but too much and their edges would dull, the cohesion between the Groupe had grown nicely, there had been virtually no altercations since he had removed the Russians, the lesson had been learned.
Sastre and the other senior NCOs from the other two groupes had reported a level of professionalism and Esprit de Corp that they would have expected from a more seasoned unit of men.
Good, he thought, this was not going to be a normal unit. The General had high plans for the finished product. His job was to get them there and then lead them.
He looked at a large map of the area on his office wall, it displayed the March route, it wasn't going to be easy, but this was the Legion. Everything was earned in blood, sweat and tears.
Outside Sean had followed through on a bit of a brainwave he'd had, after seeing Erik and Chen in action he'd dragged them off to a small training area and as an Unarmed Combat Instructor decided to see what they had, it had been a bruising encounter from his perspective, but credit where credit was due, they both had serious skills, far in excess of his, particularly the tall Dutchman, he was next level, hell he was top level! After seeing that he asked them both to help design a rapid skills course with the promise of instructorships for the unit. Delon had hummed but even he couldn't deny it made sense, special units needed special training, it had been his mantra.
For Robie it was welcome, Chen had been showing him some moves when they billeted together in Paris, he was slowly developing himself as a good all-rounder. Sean had been teaching them all extensions of what Denis and Marcin and Pascal had started on the Colibri. Chen and now Erik supercharged that with their knowledge of martial arts.
Erik had fashioned a pair of wicked curved blades shaped almost like claws, they were called Kerambits and there was no denying his skill with them. "Guy is like a fucking food processor and not in a good way!" said a shocked Antoine Brun, goggle eyed the rest of the section could only nod in response as the big Dutchman whirled the two blades around himself before shish kebabbing his latest 'victim'!
They rolled into September, with the final two weeks of Basic staring them in the face Delon called them all together and explained the situation, normally by now under normal circumstances, they would have been interviewed regarding their preference for their future posting.
This, he explained would not be happening, there was a groan from those who had set their sights on heading to Corsica and Calvi for the 2nd Rep. the elite and only parachute regiment of the Foreign Legion, Erik was especially downcast. He'd had his heart set on jumping out of a plane.
Delon noting the disappointment then reminded them about the rumours and what he had said in Paris at Fort De Nogent about things becoming more serious. "This is not a normal Unit; I have personally selected all of you for this honour, we will be doing all the training of those other regiments, so do not worry about missed opportunities!"
That mollified the men somewhat, still, a lot of questions were left unanswered, but the NCOs went quickly into action, drills and exercises came faster and faster, the men were left with no time to think only to prepare for the final qualifying exercise. Sean had passed around some moleskin boot inserts to Robie and his pals, others took note and all sorts of foot lotions appeared soon. The accumulation of everything they had learned would be covered on the 4-day Raid Marche.
Nobody was looking forward to it, tales of men losing toenails during the march was a favourite of Sastre's as he savoured the looks of dread on the men's faces as he consistently wound the men up about it on a daily basis. Barczar was finding it hard to keep a straight face as the stories grew gorier each time. Sean was probably the only one as pissed off as the men about it, but it was his section too and Delon wanted his senior men to lead by example.
A muttered, "Bollocks", was the Irishman's thoughts about it. The only high point from Robie and the rest of the men's point of view was it signalled the end of Basic and the Kepi Ceremony. Finally. They would be in! Robie was especially excited, it was looking like the end of Basic was coinciding with his birthday, his real birthday!
Sean warned him, "Keep your head on, ok?", he looked at his friend trying to impart some seriousness, "…this is no cakewalk, remember what I said in Marseilles?" Robie did.
Later that night in the barracks after another long day's preparation he looked at his tired body after a shower, he had dropped a lot of weight, he was almost skin and bone again, the food was fine but the outgoings of effort did not match the fuel intake, the muscles that lay beneath his skin had been tested and honed for the past four months, they were long and sinewy, but this next test was going to be the hardest one yet, the more he looked at the man in the mirror though, the more his eyes showed him that he was ready.
He went through his daily routine, cleaning his equipment, he touched the clear plastic surrounding the White Kepi, this time there would be no accusations of cheating, no Bryce Larkin to falsely denounce him, no Jill to kick him to the kerb. This time, it was just him. His face hardened, his mind was set, this time he would claim the plaudits.
He was nearly twenty-eight years old and for the first time in a long while he felt in control of his life.
12th September. 2009. Castelnaudry, The Farm. 06:00hrs.
Delon took a long look behind him as he brought up the rear of the column of men that marched steadily out of the confines of the training centre, it was a rainy morning, the men's ponchos dripped excess water as they progressed across some fields towards a wooded area, there was a small team slightly ahead of the main pack, they had been designated as the scouts, the pathfinders, behind them Sastre led another group. Their mission was to guide the mass of men to the various rest points and camp sites that had been preselected during the briefing.
This wasn't just a marching exercise; it was a simulation of an excursion into enemy terrority, there were goals to be achieved, there were obstacles to be overcome and an assessment of the Unit's adaptability in the face of changing circumstances and hostile encounters. Endurance would be key though, the proud, vaunted boast of the Legion had always been its ability to endure what other armies would falter at.
The pace was hard, they had 150kms of some of the most difficult terrain in France to traverse, Sean's earlier remark to Robie rang in his ears "…this is no cakewalk..." The plan was roughly eight hours a day of marching, there would be day and night exercises worked in, with ambushes from enemy troops scattered all over the route.
Full kit was worn by all men and they were glad of the cooling rain, as the pace crept up the NCOs ordered the men to sing the marching songs of the Legion, it was a peculiar mixture of French and German songs that showed the diverse history of the Legion, with the German ones an addition from the former Wehrmacht that had been absorbed into the French army after the Second World War. France never one to miss an opportunity had eagerly accepted the former soldiers, combat trained, and battle hardened, for the twenty years after the War the iron in the Legion was mainly of Teutonic origin!
The first two days were a breaking in of the men, those who had still not fully committed were cruelly exposed by the brutal pace and lack of rest or sleep. Delon had his staff on constant alert, and it was not uncommon to see the NCOs surrounding a recruit and exhorting them to greater feats with threats of cutting them or a moment of reassurance that they, their leaders, were positive that what they were demanding of the men was only what they knew the men could do.
Watching them, Robie and his friends felt as their bodies were on fire, they had fallen into some mad alchemist's cauldron and that in this furnace who they had been, was being slowly replaced with what they were now becoming, making the transition from Engage Voluntaire to Legionnaire.
Delon led them on, ever upwards, deeper into the Pyrenees, the second day they had dug in at the crest of a rise, they had barely settled down for some food when there was a shout from the sentries, the regulars had finally found their position and were mounting an attack!
The next few hours passed swiftly, they were fitted with sensors so it was like paintball, referees made up of officers from the Farm tallied the "dead" and wounded, they were keen to defend their base, pride and the surge of adrenaline that raced through the men meant that section casualties were light, but that gave rise to new problems, Delon decided to break out under cover of darkness so there was no sleep that night, the wounded were carried out on make shift stretchers across rivers, deadfalls and craggy outcroppings.
The toll continued the next couple of days, Philip Chen suffered a turned ankle racing down a hill to provide covering fire from a skirmishing party of regulars that harassed the section as they traversed a wooded area, he hobbled as best he could and was in danger of being cut by Barczar and Sean, but here the men showed how much they had bonded over the past four months of training, his kit was quickly distributed among the rest of the section, Robie ended up with the radio set, Chen had been nominated as operator for the march.
Robie grumbled, he had already an extra burden in his long gun in his role as a sniper. Through gritted teeth the men pressed on, the unit had long since lost its shape, the marching column had stretched out and the NCOs were like farmhands bullying stubborn cattle along the route, mercifully the last four hours of the route were downhill, Chen was told he needed to finish his march with full kit by himself or risk repeating and so he reluctantly donned his equipment, Robie and Erik made sure they marched beside him though and they practically dragged the smaller man between them to the finish line. Each one had a death grip of his backpack as they hauled him upright.
It was dark when they finally approached the training centre, there had been changes, oil drums had been lit and placed along the route to the central courtyard, there had been a dais erected and there was a welcoming committee to greet them as they entered the yard. The newer recruits that formed the latest intake had been busy and they were guided in their efforts by the Legionnaires that made up the training regiment, the 4th Foreign Regiment.
There was a shock that ran through the men as they saw who awaited them on the dais, it was their Commanding Officer, General Jules Bouquin, beside him was his wife, a picture of French elegance and beside them was Col. Felix Sabut, and the commandant of Castelnaudry, Col. Lefort.
The men slowed their pace and slowly formed a square in front of the assembled dignitaries, the General watched with sharp eyes and pride as the men snapped to attention. Delon had had them clean their kit on the final approach and though they were exhausted and somewhat dishevelled, they still looked like a force to be reckoned with.
Slowly he descended from the dais, he approached Delon and the NCOs, they saluted. He smiled at Delon, his godson had done him and the Legion proud. There was a handshake and a fatherly pat on the shoulder from the older man, his eyes warmed briefly before becoming professional again.
He moved from man to man, gazing into the faces of his new unit, he took the measure of each man, that is, until he reached Robie, there was the longest pause, his face paled slightly, Robie tried to keep his attention focused on the dais above him, but he noticed the General's wife had also stood up from her seat and like her husband was staring at him intently.
Sean was watching all this in puzzlement, what the hell was going on? His mind raced with endless possibilities, had Robie been recognised? There was no damn way Bouquin could know who Robie really was, but that… that didn't explain the look on the General's wife's face either… Delon and Sabut both looked uncomfortable and shared a look of unease.
Sean gulped, Robie was starting to look increasingly nervous, and he couldn't blame him! It felt like the universe was holding its breath, the General blinked, once, twice and then continued on his way. The tension of the moment passed. He finished his inspection and climbed the steps to the dais again, there was a brief exchange between the General and his wife, but none of it made any sense to the onlookers.
Colonel Lefort called the men to parade rest and the General stepped to the podium.
Bouquin looked over the square, his face had returned to normal, whatever had transpired had passed and he was once more the commander General of the French Foreign Legion. He gave a short speech echoing what Delon had already told them about the Unit and that as the first men selected for the honour of serving, they would be the vanguard of a new phase of Legion history. He then turned to Delon and issued a command.
Delon called the men to attention and slowly with great pride he led them through the Code of Honor.
Legionnaire: you are a volunteer serving France faithfully and with honor.
Every Legionnaire is your brother-at-arms, irrespective of his nationality, race, or creed. You will demonstrate this by an unwavering and straight forward solidarity which must always bind together members of the same family.
Respectful of the Legion's traditions, honoring your superiors, discipline and comradeship are your strength, courage, and loyalty your virtues.
Proud of your status as a legionnaire, you will display this pride, by your turnout, always impeccable, your behavior, ever worthy, though modest, your living-quarters, always tidy.
An elite soldier: you will train vigorously, you will maintain your weapons as if it were your most precious possession, you will keep your body in the peak of condition, always fit.
A mission once given to you becomes sacred to you, you will accomplish it to the end and at all costs.
In combat: you will act without relish of your tasks, or hatred; you will respect the vanquished enemy and will never abandon neither your wounded nor your dead, nor will you under any circumstances surrender your arms.
Their voices rang out over the square, strengthened, building slowly as the realisation that they had finally made it hit them, the onlookers felt the hairs on the back of their necks stand up at what was surely a proud and solemn moment for the assembled men.
For Chuck Bartowski now Legionnaire John Robie, it was especially poignant, this was something nobody could ever take away from him, he wished Ellie and Morgan could see him now, Awesome too. They would have been a part of his Stanford celebrations had he graduated. His only disappointment was that yet again he had been robbed of sharing this moment with his family.
The General waited until the last echoes of the Code faded away into silence before issuing the command, "Remise de la kepi…"
As one the men, with their left hands removed the green beret that they had worn for the duration of their basic training and placed it in the left trouser pocket and with their right hands placed the Kepi on their heads and saluted. Col. Lefort then pinned the regiment insignia to each of the men's uniforms. They had done it!
There was a great cheer as the Col. dismissed the men, Kepis were flung high in the air, but Robie could only stare at his in fascination, Sean appeared with a camera, the Legion had hired a private photographer who had spent the ceremony snapping shots here and there. Sean saw Robie's caution.
"Don't worry about him, mate and congratulations!" he smiled from behind the viewfinder, "the Legion will make him surrender the memory chips and the pictures get sold to you guys for a keepsake or for family…." He saw Robie's face fall at those words. He looked around and saw Chen and Vanderlaan had similar expressions on their faces too. Sean shook his head, too many people with too many secrets…
"Come on Robie!" he waved to the other two, "Let's get pissed!" The other recruits under the watchful eye of the training regiment staff had prepared an area with tables and a seating, a bar had been set up and the drinking had already begun.
Erik and Philip made their way over, Chen hobbling as best he could, Sean had had the infirmary staff slip him some painkillers, but they had yet to take full effect, however that wasn't stopping the Taiwanese from grabbing a handful of bottles of beer off a passing tray and he handed them around gleefully.
The three friends posed for pictures that Sean took and although they didn't think it had been seen, he also noticed they artfully dodged the official photographer, managing to turn if he got a snap or two in their direction. After a while he disappeared, and they relaxed.
Erik helped Chen as the smaller man decided to change his boots for some runners he had back in the dormitory, Robie settled back in his seat savouring the Heineken beer, a floral scent filled his nose, and he turned in surprise to find the General's wife staring at him. He shot to his feet assuming the attention stance, his bottle falling to the ground.
"Oh! I'm sorry, I did not mean to startle you, Legionnaire Robie…?" She smiled gently; she was elegance in motion as she sat in a seat near his.
"Oui...oui, Madam Bouquin, please forgive my clumsiness… is there something I can get for you…if you like…require…I mean …need…" Godammit, he was spluttering all over the place! Any kind of contact with a woman and a good looking one at that, turned him into an awkward adolescent. He imagined she had been an exceptional beauty in her youth and maturity hadn't robbed her of her looks. He gathered the dropped bottle from the ground.
Madam Bouquin peered up at the tall man, she had to place an immaculately gloved hand in front of her mouth to hide the smile that his spiralling had made flit across her face, she gathered herself. "You are the Americaine? "
John Robie also took a moment, the woman in front of him was composed and had a sharpness to her aspect that had his normal talkativeness immediately set on mute. He had to respond, a General's wife was a General's wife, somewhere, he thought Diane Beckman is probably laughing her ass off!
"Oui, Madam, I am." She motioned to a seat in front of her, "Please sit, I have not been to your country for many years, alas my duties as my husband's wife mean that travelling with him to various posts left little time for holidaying…"
"Oh! Well… I am originally from the West Coast, Los Angeles…" Robie stopped, "…I mean that was where I was prior to coming to France, I was born in San Diego, just above the US/Mexican border. Is that anywhere you know?"
"Non, I was in New York for a visit to the U.N. with Jules, I saw Bloomingdales and Fifth Avenue and Broadway." She smiled at the memories.
"You are more fortunate than me, Madam, I never left the confines of the West Coast."
"Oui, your country is so vast, most of our countries could fit in one of your States many times over! Tell me, what does your family think of your little adventure over here, or do they know yet?"
"Non-Madam, I have no immediate family, my parents passed when I was young, I stayed with my extended family, my mother was of French heritage, but unfortunately I gained little of her culture, so in a way, this is also an exploration of that side of my family."
Stick to the cover, kept racing through his mind as he tried to make sense of the conversation, over the shoulder of the woman he could see the concerned face of Sean Murphy, he made a motion to join them, but Robie gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Sean nodded but suddenly his eyes grew large as he stared at someone behind Robie.
"I'm sorry to hear that…" There was a harrumph behind him, turning his head he jumped to his feet again as the figure of the General stood there, again Robie noted that odd expression on the General's face as he stared back at him. "At ease, Legionnaire", Robie relaxed a tad. For another moment the General regarded the man in front of him before he turned to his wife.
He extended his arm as she rose, "Come my dear, Lt. Delon has some refreshments in his office, and I must discuss his plans for the Unit." Madam Bouquin stood, taking her husband's arm she turned again to Robie, "It was nice to meet you, I wish you good fortunes for your time here and congratulations on your new position."
"Merci Madam." Drawing to attention again he snapped his best salute at the General, it was returned, and they departed, leaving a somewhat relived Robie in their wake.
"Jesus, you're popular!" came the laconic voice of Sean as he joined the other man. He pressed a fresh bottle of cool beer into Robie's hand. "Any idea what that was all about?" Robie asked Sean in a shaky voice.
"Not a fucking clue mate, but I'll say one thing…" Robie looked at his friend quizzically, "…you're the only Legionnaire she spoke to out of the lot of us…" The two men turned watched the General and his wife disappear inside the Officer's quarters.
Inside Delon's quarters the General stood for the longest time, Felix Sabut and Alain Delon stood at attention awaiting the inevitable. Taking off his Kepi, the General placed it on the desk in front of him and slowly walked behind it, pulling out the chair he sat down. His face was a mask of barely contained anger. "I am hoping that I am going to hear a reasonable explanation FOR WHAT I HAVE JUST SEEN!"
His voice caused both men to wince, Felix Sabut opened his mouth to speak but Bouquin cut him off, "NON M'SIEU! Lt Delon can answer for himself!" Sabut's mouth closed. The room was silent, but it was the silence just after a lightning strike, edgy, dangerous, the air hummed with energy…
"Jules…", it came quietly from the General's wife who had stepped to her husband's side, from the table she took a framed photograph. She ran her fingers lightly over one of the faces of the people displayed.
Her husband's face softened, standing he took her other hand in his broad ones. "I'm sorry Bene, I had no idea…" His face bore his own torment as he saw the picture. Benedicte Bouquin, looked in the face of her husband of over thirty years, "Oh Jules, I am not offended, that man is not our son, my son, I bore him for nine months inside me and I loved him as I love you… but he is not my Lucien…"
They walked to the window of the office and stared into the courtyard, outside Robie and Erik with Chen and Sean were laughing as they enjoyed the night. The General and his wife looked at the young men for a moment but seeing only Robie, finally they turned to the two officers, they walked to a small sofa and sat down.
"Alain…" she said, Delon turned to face her, "Yes Maman?" his voiced trembled. "Tell us about Robie… tell us everything…" So, he began…
She placed the picture on the small coffee table in front of her, the picture was a graduation one, from the St. Cyr military academy, two cadets in full academy dress uniform were in front of the mounted statue of General Marceau that stood proudly in the parade grounds, they were young, vital, alive, Delon unusually wore a full smile, but that was no match for the other man who smiled so broadly and happily that even the couple that were behind the men also smiled, the General, proud and paternal and Madam Bouquin, her eyes also shone with pride at her two "boys".
She had placed a hand on her son's shoulder as if to hold him in place as he had made a wide gesture that had threatened to burst him from the confines of the camera viewer, he was tall, not quite as tall as his father but maybe an inch over Delon, his hair was straight and black, there was a mole on his upper lip, in that way that women adored, his eyes were a deep brown and sparkled with humour and he was the spitting image of Chuck Bartowski…