Opening of the Christmas Season
By Louis Perez y Cid
In the French Foreign Legion, time doesn't flow quite like anywhere else. It is punctuated by powerful landmarks, laden with memory and meaning. Among them, two dates stand out and resonate with each other.
Camerone, on April 30th, celebrates military virtues taken to the ultimate sacrifice. Courage, honor, fidelity to one's word, even when all seems lost. It is the celebration of combat, of total commitment, of the man who stands tall until the very end.
And then there is Christmas.
Another victory, more silent. A celebration that glorifies not the weapon, but the man. Family, solidarity, brotherhood. Everything that allows the legionnaire to remain human, despite the harshness of the profession and the isolation.
Tradition dictates that on December 24th, Christmas Eve, officers, non-commissioned officers, and legionnaires, married or single, gather for a Christmas Eve dinner. Just among legionnaires. Without their families. A night apart, outside of time.
The units compete with each other in imagination: nativity scene contests, skits where they playfully tease the officers, laughter shared around a meal that stretches late into the night, sometimes until the first light of dawn. That evening, rank fades somewhat into the background. What remains is the sense of belonging to the same family.
The articles that follow are not intended to describe the form, but the substance. To explore the meaning we give to this celebration so unique to the Legion.
They will speak of family. Of the family we leave behind when we enlist, of the family we choose when we join the Legion, and of that close, often discreet family made up of our wives and partners, who silently bear a part of our absences.
They will speak of solidarity, through Christmas stories, sometimes true, sometimes imagined, but always rooted in the Legion spirit.
Finally, they will speak of brotherhood, giving the floor to a padre, a former Legionnaire, and sharing his homily. A spiritual and fraternal perspective on men from different backgrounds, united by a common destiny.
Christmas in the Legion is not just a tradition. It is a moment of brotherhood. A necessary pause to remember why, beyond the uniform and the trials, we move forward together.
In the French Foreign Legion, time doesn't flow quite like anywhere else. It is punctuated by powerful landmarks, laden with memory and meaning. Among them, two dates stand out and resonate with each other.
Camerone, on April 30th, celebrates military virtues taken to the ultimate sacrifice. Courage, honor, fidelity to one's word, even when all seems lost. It is the celebration of combat, of total commitment, of the man who stands tall until the very end.
And then there is Christmas.
Another victory, more silent. A celebration that glorifies not the weapon, but the man. Family, solidarity, brotherhood. Everything that allows the legionnaire to remain human, despite the harshness of the profession and the isolation.
Tradition dictates that on December 24th, Christmas Eve, officers, non-commissioned officers, and legionnaires, married or single, gather for a Christmas Eve dinner. Just among legionnaires. Without their families. A night apart, outside of time.
The units compete with each other in imagination: nativity scene contests, skits where they playfully tease the officers, laughter shared around a meal that stretches late into the night, sometimes until the first light of dawn. That evening, rank fades somewhat into the background. What remains is the sense of belonging to the same family.
The articles that follow are not intended to describe the form, but the substance. To explore the meaning we give to this celebration so unique to the Legion.
They will speak of family. Of the family we leave behind when we enlist, of the family we choose when we join the Legion, and of that close, often discreet family made up of our wives and partners, who silently bear a part of our absences.
They will speak of solidarity, through Christmas stories, sometimes true, sometimes imagined, but always rooted in the Legion spirit.
Finally, they will speak of brotherhood, giving the floor to a padre, a former Legionnaire, and sharing his homily. A spiritual and fraternal perspective on men from different backgrounds, united by a common destiny.
Christmas in the Legion is not just a tradition. It is a moment of brotherhood. A necessary pause to remember why, beyond the uniform and the trials, we move forward together.