From the seven-flamed grenade to the Legion logo,
the journey of an accidental designer
3/3
1995. On Mururoa, sometimes simplicity is the best solution.
The final stage of this journey: French Polynesia.
The restructuring of the sites led to the dissolution of the 5th Foreign Regiment's Command and Support Company and the base company of the regular army. The two units merged to form the CSB, the Support and Base Company, based on Mururoa.
It brought together the land elements from the Hao and Mururoa sites, as well as the Papeete detachment in Tahiti.
I was a captain at the time. I finished commanding the 1st Foreign Regiment's Command and Support Company before taking command of the newly created CSB. Like any self-respecting unit, it needed its insignia.
But how could I represent the multitude of regular army units, plus those of the Legion, on a small piece of metal? Trying to show everything risks ending up with an illustrated directory rather than a badge.
So I opted for simplicity. I reused the old badge of the Hao base company, adapting it to ensure a symbolic connection to Mururoa. The commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Bertout, gave his approval. The badge was created.
After the sea gods, the caracals, and the seven-flamed grenades, we sometimes return to a basic rule: when you want to fit everything into a badge, it's best to start by removing a good portion!
A few creations that have come a long way… Unit badges aren't the only projects I remember. Some illustrations have also had a second life, sometimes far removed from their original purpose.
The Képi Blanc Christmas cover, 1981
This illustration was reused in 2004 by Éditions Italique for the cover of the book *Christmas Tales of the Foreign Legion*.
A magazine cover that became a book cover, twenty-three years later. Christmas truly does keep its gifts for a long time!
The Camerone poster, 1987
This poster has been reproduced on various items, scarves, book covers, wine labels, and other media. A design created for a single event can thus travel to objects its creator hadn't necessarily considered.
The life of a drawing is sometimes as adventurous as that of a legionnaire, even if it requires less equipment.
Képi Blanc cover and Camerone poster, 1981
Part of this design was used by the 4th Foreign Regiment (4e RE) in Castelnaudary for the stained-glass window in its hall of honor, created by Mr. Bullard. From paper to stained glass, the change of medium is significant. The drawing, however, continues its journey.
A pastel from 2005
This pastel, which had no other ambition than to depict a legionnaire, was used for a wine label, then reproduced on various merchandise.
Clearly, between posters, calendars, books, and bottles, some of my creations have had a much more active social life than their creator!
In the end…
So, what have I left to the Legion after nearly thirty years of service?
A few insignia, posters, illustrations, and above all, this logo that so many legionnaires recognize today, even if another, more stylized logo has replaced it in recent years.
I don't claim to have changed the course of military history. I served in my role, like so many others, with the responsibilities and opportunities that were mine. I wasn't trying to create a work for posterity. I simply responded to requests, tried to do things properly, and, from time to time, let my artistic training, which was just waiting to be used, speak for itself.
Perhaps what I like most about it, in retrospect, is that these creations weren't born from some grand personal design. They appeared as a result of postings, encounters, needs, and a few conversations between a superior officer and a draftsman. The captain requests an insignia, the draftsman takes out his pencils, the project is accepted, and life goes on. We move on, without imagining that, years later, someone will be interested in the history of the drawing.
Then, one day, we look back. We discover that a small part of our work has remained, that it has been taken up, adapted, passed on. We then experience a quiet satisfaction, without needing to sound the trumpets.
Deep down, perhaps I was simply lucky to be in the right place at the right time, with the right skills.
Which goes to show that in the Legion, it's not always enough to know how to march in step, shoot straight, sing, or maintain your kit. Knowing how to hold a pencil can also be useful.
And if, after all this, I had to take away just one lesson, it would be this: we don't always choose what will remain of us. Sometimes, we draw a calendar cover… and she's the one who decides to pursue a career.
As for me, I just did my job.
With, from time to time, a little extra color.
So, what have I left to the Legion after nearly thirty years of service?
A few insignia, posters, illustrations, and above all, this logo that so many legionnaires recognize today, even if another, more stylized logo has replaced it in recent years.
I don't claim to have changed the course of military history. I served in my role, like so many others, with the responsibilities and opportunities that were mine. I wasn't trying to create a work for posterity. I simply responded to requests, tried to do things properly, and, from time to time, let my artistic training, which was just waiting to be used, speak for itself.
Perhaps what I like most about it, in retrospect, is that these creations weren't born from some grand personal design. They appeared as a result of postings, encounters, needs, and a few conversations between a superior officer and a draftsman. The captain requests an insignia, the draftsman takes out his pencils, the project is accepted, and life goes on. We move on, without imagining that, years later, someone will be interested in the history of the drawing.
Then, one day, we look back. We discover that a small part of our work has remained, that it has been taken up, adapted, passed on. We then experience a quiet satisfaction, without needing to sound the trumpets.
Deep down, perhaps I was simply lucky to be in the right place at the right time, with the right skills.
Which goes to show that in the Legion, it's not always enough to know how to march in step, shoot straight, sing, or maintain your kit. Knowing how to hold a pencil can also be useful.
And if, after all this, I had to take away just one lesson, it would be this: we don't always choose what will remain of us. Sometimes, we draw a calendar cover… and she's the one who decides to pursue a career.
As for me, I just did my job.
With, from time to time, a little extra color.
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