Alex Lochrie - Fighting for the French Foreign Legion: Memoirs of a Scottish Legionnaire

First published in Great Britain in 2009 by
Pen & Sword Military
An imprint of
Pen & Sword Books Ltd
47 Church Street
Barnsley
South Yorkshire
S70 2AS

Copyright Alex Lochrie, 2009

ISBN: 9781848840850

Digital Edition ISBN: 9781848846968

The right of Alex Lochrie to be identified as Author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

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Contents

I would like to thank all those who have helped me get my story into print: my wife who encouraged me to write it; James Baillieu, who put me in touch with Henry Wilson of Pen & Sword Books; Bobby Gainher, my editor; and of course all the officers and legionnaires who accompanied me on my journey, who this book is really all about.

Life in the French Foreign Legion can be described in one word tough! particularly if you happen to be part of the elite world that is the 2me Regiment Etranger de Parachutiste (2me REP).

At the beginning of January 1985, my company was on the move again. The 1st Company specialized in commando warfare and, like everything else in the Legion, that meant some serious training. The expression No pain, no gain, must have originated in the Legion. We headed off to mainland France for a training course at Frances number one commando training centre, Le Centre National dEntrainement Commando (CNEC).

Our first week was spent at the town of Collioure, on the Mediterranean coast near the frontier with Spain. It is a town that has been the subject of many paintings, with its imposing fort perched on the cliffs overlooking the port. The French Army uses the old fort as a confidence-building centre before trainees progress on to the real thing at the commando training centre high in the Pyrenees, at Mont Louis. There were walls to climb, moats to cross and jumps from high to low walls with a 120-foot drop on the other side to the waves crashing onto the rocks below. There were roofs to clamber over and windows to abseil into. At the beginning of the week everyone was nervous, attacking the obstacles with caution and at walking pace. Security harnesses were worn at all times and anyone taking unnecessary risks was punished. Men thought to be acting recklessly found themselves off the course and working in the kitchens. Obstacles which seemed to be high and dangerous at the beginning of the week were now being taken at the double against the clock, which was exactly what was meant to happen. But this had just been a foretaste of what was in store for us before we moved up to the No.1 Commando Training Centre at Mont Louis - the real McCoy.

The drive up through the Pyrenees was breathtaking as we passed through some of the most beautiful countryside in Europe. After the relatively mild climate of Corsica and the Mediterranean coast, we quickly found ourselves at 2,000 metres above sea level and well above the snow line. Mont Louis is the highest town in France, the ancient fort dates back to the 1600s and was very impressive. All of this was set against a background of intimidating,snow-covered mountains, forests, lakes and it was very, very cold indeed. A brass monkey wouldnt have lasted five minutes.

The obstacle courses were graded into three degrees of difficulty and coded yellow, red and black. The CNEC does not expect everyone who comes here to attain the highest level, but the Legion does, and in particular the REP expects nothing less. Anyone failing to reach the highest level has no place in a commando company and would be moved to other duties within the Regiment on their return. Those who had to drop out through injury would get another chance to complete the course at a later date.

The facility is also used by foreign forces including the UKs Royal Marines, the SAS and the American Seals, and is acknowledged as being one of the best of its kind in the world. France has two other extreme warfare schools: the jungle warfare school in French Guyana and a commando training centre in Djibouti, both run by the Legion.

Physically, this was the hardest thing I have ever done. As at Collioure, instruction started at a walking pace, slowly building our skills and confidence to tackle the most dangerous parts of the course, the piste noir. Again it was all about teamwork and having total confidence in those around you this was not a game and mistakes could easily cost a life or lead to serious injury. Apart from the pure difficulty of the obstacles, the cold was playing a major part by covering everything in a thick coating of ice. The centre normally closed during the winter months but the Legion is the Legion and here we were. Gloves were normally optional, but without them your skin would have stuck to the cables. Once you accepted that the obstacles were passable and that many had done it before you, it became a question of self-confidence.

As the weeks passed, we became more gung-ho in our approach and the stopwatches began to come out. This was very physical for me and a real test to see if I could keep up with the youngsters, but there was more than the physical side to being a front-line commando. You can be one of the strongest men in the world but if you dont have the mental aptitude to attack the problems you are faced with, you wont get anywhere. Stamina also comes into the equation and that was where my age was a definite advantage. As ever, I was finding the obstacles hard going where arm strength was important. Leg strength and balance were not a problem but I knew that I was struggling on some of the tasks.

Early one morning in the middle of the third week, I was dragged from my bed, ordered to get dressed, had a hood pulled over my head and my hands tagged behind my back before being pulled and pushed along for at least ten minutes. Outdoors, indoors, out again I hadnt a clue where I was. Eventually I was shoved into a room and sat down forcibly on a wooden bench. Even though I knew it was an exercise and that no real harm would come to me, it was hard to take.

Before continuing with my story, it might be useful at this stage to explain how I found myself to be there. Every Legionnaire, after all, has his own reasons for seeking such an extreme way of life. For some it is pure adventure, while others are running away from reality or believe that the Legion is just waiting for them to turn up at the door. Whatever the reason, those who are selected are in the minority and I considered myself to be one of the lucky ones to have had the honour of being where I was.

On 10 June 1983, I found myself in Paris asking a gendarme how to go about joining the French Foreign Legion. He advised me to go home, but realizing that I was intent on enlisting, he told me that I would find a recruiting poster in every main railway station in Paris. I therefore went to the Gare du Nord and sure enough, there was a giant poster advertising an exciting new life in the Legion. It was quite a step to take at the age of thirty-eight and I didnt know if I would be accepted. All my life I had experienced one adventure after another most of them enjoyable, some disastrous, but nothing on this scale. I have always striven to be the best at whatever I do but suffered from two handicaps the second of which was a direct result of the first.