The Legion Unvarnished 3

The regiment was conducting maneuvers in the Sakaramy region, the stronghold of the 3rd Foreign Infantry Regiment squadron in Madagascar.

I had just been promoted to corporal and, to demonstrate my leadership abilities, I was ordered to manage, at the head of a group, a rear base comprised of cooks and medics, to accommodate the entire regiment at the end of the maneuvers, allowing the legionnaires to recover physically after a long march.
Thus, we went to the cocoa forest of Anbage, having received permission from the landowner to set up camp there.

The place was peaceful, almost idyllic, but, on the other hand, we were constantly attacked by swarms of large female mosquitoes that bit us through our combat uniforms.

Our commanding officer had strictly forbidden us from tailoring our fatigues, as was common practice among our paratrooper comrades, convinced that they ended up looking like "ballerinas"...

For me, the mission was clear; I took it personally, especially since the regimental treasurer had entrusted me with a generous sum of money to buy a zebu to properly feed our starving warriors after their journey. This treasurer's name was Tésous (fiction sometimes surpasses reality, you can't make this stuff up!).

We were on the banks of a very calm river, on the opposite bank of which lay a small village of cocoa plantation workers.

This isolated corner of the world consisted of typical houses, with thatched roofs and mud walls. No sooner had we settled in than a dugout canoe crossed the river carrying the village chief, who had come to make contact with the soldiers who had established themselves so close to his home. After a brief observation period, I reassured my interlocutor about our intentions and the reasons for our presence there. Reassured, the old chief left without a care in the world.

But despite the peacefulness of the place, this was certainly not the time to indulge in a complacent idleness that would be detrimental to the execution of my mission. Many questions remained unanswered, such as: "Where can I get a zebu? And who among us would be capable of killing and butchering such a large pile of meat and bones?" In short, I couldn't find anyone brave enough to roast such an animal; none of us knew how to go about it. So I approached the village chief, who sent me a team of brave men to carry out this delicate and "monstrous" operation.

Reassured, I asked the chief what he wanted in return for my service. He asked me to give him the salt tablets that were in our communal rations, and of which our medics also had large quantities. The deal was done, but a great surprise awaited me when the old man suggested that one of his youngest daughters come and spend my nights with me…

Disappointed, I politely explained that it was impossible for me to accept such a proposal, which was completely contrary to my European culture and way of life. A final decision, which made my comrades howl in disappointment, betraying a certain turmoil in their frayed nerves… On the long-awaited day, the legionnaires of the regiment, tired, even exhausted, were able, with joy and great comfort, to feast on an excellent méchoui, cooked to perfection by a master's hand.