What the Legion Left Within Us

By Christian Morisot
Nothing predisposed me to serve France in a military career, and now, with the benefit of age, I can judge with a little hindsight, I know that it was the right choice and that the military profession was the one best suited to my character. I owe it the privilege of having spent my youth in a clear and uncompromising atmosphere and of having felt hearts, inspired by the school of energy, courage, and humanity, resonate in unison with my own.

But, speaking of humanity, I like to offer a version of this concept, so often invoked in endless discussions: “There is no such thing as modern humanity,” said Alain. “The past must illuminate the present, otherwise our contemporaries are, in our eyes, nothing but enigmatic animals.” Humanity exists before us, as an ideal, only because it is first and foremost behind us, as history, as faithful memory.

The memory of those years is deeply etched within me, and time has not been able to diminish it. While there were trials and disappointments that could have momentarily stifled my enthusiasm for becoming a legionnaire, Dien Bien Phu and the Algerian War demonstrated that the legionnaires rose to the challenge of the impossible, confronting political decisions and preserving intact the treasure of their memories and the seeds of their hopes.

Of the various phases of my life as a legionnaire, those spent in Djibouti from 1976 to 1978 left the strongest impression on me, and I have often tried, albeit clumsily, to evoke the extraordinary atmosphere of that period, before, during, and after the independence of this tiny island in the Horn of Africa.

No doubt my portrayal of the Legion is quite different from the one popularized by legend; It will also seem disappointing to some brilliant thinkers… and strong-willed individuals. By stripping the model of the trappings with which it is usually adorned, I can better reveal its grandeur, in the nakedness of its fierce mystique.

The Legion never lets us go once we have tasted its magic potions. What passion we feel for it, and what profound devotion concealed the masks of skepticism or mockery behind which our modesty sheltered.

Sentimental outpouring cannot be a guiding thread. The problems of daily life, the contingencies of the profession, all fade away and seem contemptible, while a breathtaking reality emerges: that of an extraordinary human destiny.

A mere pawn on the King's chessboard, the legionnaire must preserve his strength for the service of a country that is often not his own, and his motto of loyalty and honor is one of principles too demanding to allow him to revel in freedom. To him belong the arduous tasks, repeated daily…

I was recently reading some letters written in the aftermath of the Great War, and one of them expressed the spirit of the "veterans," as it had been recounted during a resounding conference in Clermont-Ferrand. The author concluded with a code of honor for veterans, somewhat like our code of honor for former legionnaires: a clear work, written with an intuitive pen, which could still be relevant today:

1: The veteran is attached to the country he saved because he suffered for it.

2: He is peaceful because he knows war well.

3: He has a sense of action and distrusts rhetoricians.

4: Realistic within his idealism, he rejects dangerous ideologies.

5: He is orderly out of hatred for disorder.

6: He is a builder, out of hatred for the destruction of war.

7: He is an enemy of lies and abhors brainwashing.

8: He has a sense of the common good, to which he has subordinated his own.

9: He has an appetite for authority and willing discipline.

10: Aware of solidarity, he has a team spirit.

11: A great advocate of political and religious tolerance, he knows no social hatred.

12: He knows how to assume responsibilities.

Wars have achieved the miracle of breaking selfishness. Some of my senior colleagues confided in me that at the beginning of their contracts, they felt so small, so abandoned, so anonymous that they sought the support of their comrades.

“In wartime,” they said, “everything that had given us a reason to act yesterday no longer mattered. What was the point of making plans, since we didn’t know if we would live the next day? The fear of death haunted our minds, and the constant threat of danger maintained in our souls the feeling of the necessary solidarity. War brings minds and hearts closer together than peace…”

Isn’t it true that war kills fewer souls than peace?