Showing posts with label French Foreign Legion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label French Foreign Legion. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Review: The first Americans of the First World War

Review of: Rendezvous with Death: The Americans Who Joined the Foreign Legion in 1914 to Fight for France and for Civilization
Author: David Hanna
Publisher: Regnery Books
Source: Library
Grade: A

The world has been marking centennial milestones of the First World War for the past few years. So it’s fitting that this final post for February 2017 falls in the centennial month in which the United States received the infamous Zimmermann telegram, the piece of paper that finally propelled it into the Great War.  It was, however, a war some Americans had already been fighting for years.

In his 2016 volume, Rendezvous with Death: The Americans Who Joined the Foreign Legion in 1914 to Fight for France and for Civilization, author David Hanna uses many first-hand accounts, including the soldiers’ letters and memoirs, to put human faces on the mechanized horror of 20th century warfare.

Although there would be more American volunteers later, and at least three Americans were already serving in the Foreign Legion as mercenaries, Hanna’s narrative concentrates on the few dozen original enlistees who on August 25, 1914, marched to the train that would take them to the Legion’s training center. Two of them, poet Alan Seeger and Franco-American big game hunter RenĂ© Phelizot, took turns carrying the procession’s huge American flag. Crowds gathered to see them off, throwing chocolates and flowers. Pretty girls offered kisses. Few would survive the fighting that would stagger on for more than four more years.

They were a motley crew -- artists, students, dreamers, and the occasional prize fighter – united only by their nationality and love of France.

The Foreign Legion didn’t know what to make of them. Its soldiers, foreign volunteers serving under French officers, were typically “men running from something – perverts, deserters, thugs, and worse. The discipline was severe; the conditions often harsh,” Hanna writes. “No one with better options sign up for the Legion.” Until the Americans arrived.

Unlike the regular French forces, the Legion’s soldiers pledged allegiance only to their unit, not to France, which allowed the Americans to join without forfeiting their citizenship. It was in the Legion that the recruits got their first taste of war in the fall of 1914, encountering the Great War’s legendary mud – “so thick it would pull the boots off one’s feet” with “a stench putrid and obscene.” And that the first of them died.

More battles would follow – at Artois, Verdun, the Somme. As the volunteers’ numbers dwindled, another fighting venue opened – in the sky – where they ultimately formed the famous Lafayette Escadrille. One of them, Eugene Bullard, would become the first black American fighter pilot. But while the French saw American airmen as publicity tools to encourage American intervention in the war, Germany considered them blatant violators of America’s vaunted neutrality.

The U.S., however, did not enter the war until spring 1917, and then not through the efforts of the American volunteers but through the fatal telegram from German Foreign Minister Arthur Zimmermann to Mexico, offering an alliance with Germany to help reconquer its former territory in the U.S.

U.S. entry came too late for poet Alan Seeger, who helped Phelizot carry the American flag across Paris in August 1914, and who had been frustrated ever since by his country’s failure to aid the Allies. On the afternoon of July 4, 1916, Seeger advanced with his fellow legionnaires on German trenches. In his most famous poem, he had written, “I have a rendezvous with Death, at some disputed barricade. . . ” That day he kept his rendezvous.


He and the other volunteers would leave behind an America that first fought for, then turned its back on European wars, leaving their idealism passe, as Hanna writes. But France was saved – until the next time.

Friday, March 25, 2011

Adventure classics -- Running away from home

Beau Geste
by P. C. Wren
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Is running away from home our earliest daydream?  Sometimes I still fantasize about it, but my daughter says she won’t change the cat litter boxes, so I stay.  Running away is a literary genre to itself, but it often comes with the caution that, after all, there’s no place like home.  British author P.C. Wren probably never set foot in a barracks of the French Foreign Legion, but he tapped into the vein of yearning it symbolizes, striking gold with his best-known novel, Beau Geste, in 1924.  From the several movie adaptations, modern readers will expect the novel to open with the eerie stillness of Fort Zinderneuf in the Sahara, a fort where dead soldiers still watch from embrasures within the walls.  So I was startled to find that the edition I picked up in a junk shop, illustrated with stills from the silent movie version starring Ronald Colman, spent its first dozen pages on a conversation between two minor characters.  Literary hooks have changed over the past eight decades.

The minor character who begins the book, English civil servant George Lawrence, is a likely reflection of Wren himself when he resigned from the Indian Education Service in 1917.  Maybe he joined the French Foreign Legion following the resignation, as some admirers would like to believe.  But that a 42-year-old master of arts with two children still young enough to be dependent on him would join the Legion seems as unlikely as my escape to Tahiti.  Besides the obvious details in Beau Geste reflecting a pre-World War I setting, Wren was writing a book with a Legion background – The Wages of Virtue -- as early as 1914.  A former schoolmaster with several textbooks and novels already to his credit, he almost certainly was a good enough researcher to put together memoirs and conversations with Legionnaires he met on his travels to form his convincing settings.

The scene that finds a letter promising an answer to the secret of the stolen “Blue Water” sapphire in the hand of a dead French non-com qualifies as one of the best locked-room murder mysteries as well as one of the greatest red herrings in literature.  But there’s much more adventure, bloodshed and mystification to come before the mystery is solved.
Wren’s first wife died apparently while he was still in India.  In 1927, he married Isabel Smith, whose first husband, a civil engineer employed in the Indian education service, divorced her after naming Wren as co-respondent.  It’s tempting to imagine Wren, if not as the quixotic Michael “Beau” Geste of his novel, at least with similarities to George Lawrence and Beau’s younger brother John.  At the book’s end, Lawrence returns to the married woman he has long loved in vain, now freed from her husband.  John’s childhood sweetheart Isobel also waits for him, “more beautiful than ever, and, if possible, more sweet and loving . . . .”  (Parentheses are the author’s.)  For both men, everything they wanted most had been waiting at home for them all along.

(If you’ve never read this classic adventure, it’s available at http://www.amazon.com/ and www.alibris.com/  But you’re not getting my copy with the Ronald Colman pictures.)