Chris Lawler 'One Of A Kind'

CHAPTER FOUR

  FOREIGN LEGION

  Chris took the channel ferry from Dover and headed for France, eventually making his way to Paris and to the ‘Fort de Nogent’, with the intention of joining the French Foreign Legion. Once there he was challenged in French, by a Legionnaire guarding the main entrance. Chris had no idea what he was talking about, as he could not speak one word of French. Finally, the guard used a radio to ask for help explaining that he had a mad man at the gate waving his arms about. A duty officer arrived and lucky for Chris he could speak a little English. After explaining that he wished to volunteer and join the Legion, he was then lead away and taken to the guardroom. He was asked to remove everything from his pockets, and lay it all on the table in front of him, including any money and his Passport. Then everything was itemised on to a plain sheet of discoloured paper, and then placed into a large brown envelope along with all of the items. Chris watched as everything that he owned including the only items that could identify him was then tucked away into a filing cabinet in the corner of the office. He was then taken to a barrack room where he was given a cot to sleep in for the night. The first thing that struck him about the place was how dirty and shabby everything looked. Not like the spick and span conditions that confronted him upon his first night’s stay in the British Army.

  The following day Chris was taken to see an Officer who explained through an interpreter what was happening. He went on to explain that every Legionnaire is given an alias and that it is mandatory to use it for three years. After which time, he may then request to resume his real identity if he wished. Whether or not his request would be granted and his real identity returned would depend upon his Police record in civilian life. His name was to be changed in order to separate the Legionnaire from his past and to protect him from any person seeking his where about. In this way the Legion Security Office effectively discourages anyone who might be seeking to locate him for any reason. All of his identity papers had been confiscated and would be returned after the completion of his minimum five-year enlistment. Then just like all other Legionnaire he would be free to start again. What he was involved in before he joined matters to nobody other than the Legion.

  Who he really is, where he came from, and why he has joined the Legion. These questions are recorded and filed with the Legion’s Security Bureau. This file belongs to the Bureau and its contents are kept in strict secrecy and open to no one. Before he left the office, he had taken on the alias of John James, the name of a fellow recruit who he had trained alongside while in the Army back in the UK. Chris had no idea why he had chosen the name, it was just a split second decision being the first thing that came into his head.

  The Legion operated under two golden rules placed upon them by the French Government and enforced by law, that they would at all times be led by French Officers, and would never operate within France.

  The next day along with four other EV’s (Engaged Volunteers) and accompanied by an NCO (None Commissioned Officer) he was taken by train to Aubagne a small town east of Marseille’s. To the General Headquarters of the French Foreign Legion. Aubagne houses the Medical, Transit and Musical units and is the main Legion Logistic storehouse. It contains everything that is needed to supply the active service units wherever they are operating around the world. Although at this particular time the Legion was only involved in two countries, and both were in Africa. That of Chad, and the French Territory of the Afars and Issas, but commonly referred to as just Djibouti.

  Also housed at Aubagne is the Legion’s Official Museum, containing a breakdown of their complete history, along with military artefacts of war, medals, and descriptions of heroic deeds that earn those medals.

  In Aubagne, he was housed in a large Barrack room that was ringed by a ten-foot high wire fence, giving everybody who entered the impression that they were entering a Prison camp. It certainly gave those who entered the impression that they were not going to leave, until the authority’s allowed them. Along with the other recruits, he was given three weeks to make up this mind if he still wanted to join the Legion. If he chose not to, then he was told that he could request a train ticket to anywhere in France, and that no more questions would be asked. If he declined the offer, then he would be in the Legion for the full duration of the five years that he was about to sign up for. There would be no buying himself out of this man’s Army once his contract was signed.

  During these three weeks, they had already started undergoing physical and mental tests as well as being screened by the security Bureau, who were always trying to learn of their true history.

  These three weeks were also very boring for John, as he was now known as. He found himself doing a lot of reading, not wanting to mix with most of the recruits and any way he could not speak any of the languages, and there were several. The boredom left him thinking of Brenda constantly and whether he had done the right thing in running away from his loss. There was always that nagging feeling in the back of his mind, would he ever get over their passing.

  It surprised him just how many people from all over the world wanted to join the Legion. Although the vast majority did come from European countries, like France and Belgium, followed by Germany, Turkey and Italy. John was surprised that there were not many English in the Legion. From what he was told, at no time since the sixties had there been more than about a dozen or so English in the Legion at the same time. He was also informed that there was also a Spanish and a Belgium Foreign Legion, something he kept in the back of his mind just in case he might like to move on at a later date. It was also made plain to all of the EV’s that the Legion did not take kindly to deserters, and would hunt them down where ever they were. Then serving out severe forms of justice and punishment if and when they were captured, wherever they were in the world.

  John made friends with a Frenchman known as Dominique, mainly because Dominique volunteered to act as an interpreter for him. It was Dominique that also started to help him learn the French language. Something he had to learn quickly as the instructors all spoke French, although a few did speak German. If he could not speak French, then he was going to suffer badly at their hands. They insisted that it was the EV’s problem to sort out for himself. At all times French was the first language to be used at all times. As it turned out John and Dominique became very close friend, and were together for almost the full term of their enlistment.

  As each group of EV’s are trained, they are then posted as a unit to wherever they are required.

  Dominique also introduced him to a friend he had known in Paris over the years, a Dutch man known as Hans and that they had both joined up together. Hans was lucky having lived in France for more than five years, so his French was very good as was his English, which he had learnt from his English Father. These three were seen constantly in each other’s company, but usually away from the main body of the EV’s. During those three weeks at Aubagne, their ranks swelled to nearly 100 new recruits.

  When the Security Bureau were happy that they had answered all of their questions honestly and had passed the criteria to join. Then they were called in to the Commanding Officers office and handed a contract to sign. It made no difference that John could not read it, or that he had not the slightest idea what it contained. The officer just pointed at the dotted line and John signed his real name to make the document legal. He was then given an identity card in the name of his alias John James. Then along with Dominique, Hans, and about twenty others who had all signed their contracts, they were allowed to go to Corsica to start their long awaited basic training.

  They boarded a ferry in the harbour at Marseilles and set off for Calvi the citadel township located on the western coast of Corsica, and the headquarters of the 2nd Parachute Regiment. Upon their arrival at Calvi they boarded trucks and set off on a ten-hour trip to the town of Bonifacio, a small tourist village on Corsica’s southern tip.

  John, Dominique and Hans managed to stay together and ended up sharing the same barrack room, so at least
John would have some help with his French. All three of them were discussed with the condition of the place, it being dark damp and very dirty. They were only issued with two sets of clothing and were only allowed to shower twice a week. “They couldn’t afford it” became the catch phase amongst the recruits. Because the Legion really could not afford it, was always the answer when questioned by the recruits. It became very common for them to go a full week without washing their uniforms. Uniforms that did not fit, with dates stamped on them confirming that they were manufacture during the Second World War. With ill-fitting boots and socks it became a common sight to see the recruits emptying the blood from their boots on their return from the constant route marches that they took part in in order to get fit.

  There was a total lack of hygiene and it became apparent after only ten days. The slightest cut on their body would swell overnight into a festering wound. Blood poisoning and hideous skin sores became a common sight. The medical personnel at the infirmary were unable to offer any treatment or prevention. Penicillin was forbidden because it cost too much, “They could not afford it”. As a result, most of the recruits had to go through their training while suffering from scores of ugly open infections that marked their face and hands.

  Discipline was strict, it being a case of do what you are told the first time. Failure to do this resulted in beatings, prison terms with no bed, and very little food. Plus, an array of silly but demoralising exercises around the camp. Like waddling around like a duck with at least thirty kilos’ in a pack on your back. While hard labour was constantly dished out for minor offences.

  Fitness was a priority, but did not come anywhere near, what John had experienced back in the UK in the Army. John was lucky he was still at the peak of his fitness for his age having been guided to that position by the SAS. He felt it was cruel to watch as some of the raw recruits were put through their paces and had not a chance of ever completing their assignment in the time allotted or to the level that was expected of them by the instructors.

  John had made up his mind that he would not mention his time in the British Army. He definitely would not tell his fellow recruits that “In the British Army we would do it this or that way.” Knowing that the repercussions would look badly on him. Nobody wants to be told how to train their military force, believing their way to be the better way.

  The training did have a big emphasis on live round firing and it was expected of everybody that they would do well, if only so they did not waste the ammunition. It was constantly reported to them that France was a poor country, and that they did not have the money like most other western countries to just throw it around.

  Now that the training was in full swing there was not much time for him to lie on his cot and let his imagination run away with him. For the first time since her passing, he had been able to move Brenda to the back of his mind. She was still there but she was not dominating all of his thoughts. In fact, it was only after not thinking of her for a couple of days, that it came to him that he was possibly laying his family to rest. He would never forget them, but at least they would not dominate his every though. It also showed in his training, as he became the old military person who had passed everything with flying colours while in the SAS, where he had been the outstanding trainee.

  Now John James was fast becoming the standout recruit in the Legion and that was surprising, as the French do not like the English. They would usually go out of their way to constantly make examples of them, handing out humiliating sentences whenever possible, so that the other Legionnaire’s could laugh at their expense.

  John would not take crap from anybody, dishing out better than he received. Most of the other Legionnaires would give him a wide berth if possible, unless that is, they were drunk, and alcohol was abundant on the camp. So much so, that to the French it seemed to be a national pastime, the strange thing is that drunkenness was totally frowned on, with severe punishment dealt out when Officers felt like it. This John found very strange, as half the camp were drunk at one time or another.

  It was while under the influence that the so-called hard men of the camp thought that they could take John on. They were soon proven wrong. Even if he had also been drinking he was still a handful and fought controlled taking on all comers. If a few others got themselves involved, then there was always Dominique to protect his back. Hans was more the intellectual one he preferred reading to fighting, but when it came to legal matters, he even left the Officers speechless. Hans was the original barrack room lawyer, and used his skills well. John and Dominique liked him so well that more than once they protected his back, fighting off would be assailants.

  Once the training was over all three of them along with twenty others, were posted to Djibouti in Africa. They left the island of Corsica and returned to the transit company of the Legion at Aubagne. There they were all issued with hot weather gear and given inoculations against some of the tropical diseases that were prevalent in that area. Loosing count of the jabs, they received once it got past eight.

  Upon arrival at Djibouti airport they were quickly transported to Camp Gabode, about two kilometres away, situated on the out skirts of the city of Djibouti itself. The Command Support and Services Company and the 2nd work Company of the 13th Demi Brigade of the Legion Occupied Camp Gabode. Their function was to provide all the needs for the exterior companies, who were the peace keeping forces located in the border forts along the frontiers of Somalia and Ethiopia. The 13th numbered about twelve hundred men each of four exterior companies. Containing about one hundred and fifty men each, plus the four hundred or so personnel stationed at Gabode.

  Once settled in they were given a week to get their bodies acclimatised to the conditions that were very bleak and basic. Added to this was the sun that was merciless to all who walked around unprotected.

  All three of them managed to stay together, and were sent to one of the forts along the border with Somalia, all agreed that this was a god-forsaken place to spend the next six months. There was nothing to do and certainly nowhere to go. The only reading material was what the Legionnaire’s brought with them, and hence books were as scarce as hen’s teeth. They also turned out to be a form of currency, there being nothing else to spend one’s money on. Nothing ever seemed to happen here.

  Occasionally a small section of Legionnaires would go out on a patrol just to show a French presence in the area, but to whom John often wondered. During his first patrol, he had not seen a single living sole outside of the camp.

  Cards and gambling played a large part of life in the camp, even though John did not like cheating, the boredom just got to him and he used his magic skills to win many a large jackpot from his fellow Legionnaire’s.

  John’s personality was changing and changing fast. It was as though at times he was a completely different person, as might be expected from anybody after losing his complete family. It was also the small things that he noticed. Where once he would never have cheated anybody, not even his enemies, now he believed it to be okay. Whereas before he would never speak out and give himself a reputation, now it did not worry him. Something he constantly did, that frequently drew attention towards him.

  He started to become very bitter that others had not gone through personnel strife as he had, and constantly argued with his fellow Legionnaires, but never with Dominique or Hans. They had thought that it was all part of an act to establish himself at the top of the pecking order above the other Legionnaires.

  The most amazing thing was that with his new character he was not dwelling on his family anymore. If ever he were asked if he were married, he would immediately snap the head off the person asking, answering that he was a loner and did not need anybody.

  Those six months dragged for all of them and upon their return to Djibouti all hell was let loose on some wild drinking parties by all who had returned. However, the drinking got out of hand and Hans was severely injured when he was flung from the roof of a stolen car that Dominique was driving, while J
ohn was a passenger inside. Dominique had just got carried away with the drink inside of him, and thinking that Hans could hang on, raced the car up to over 100 kmh. Then while trying to navigate a sharp corner Hans had rolled of the roof and was slammed into the side of a house. He had so many broken bones that he was evacuated back to France on the very first plane that was available. John and Dominique were never to see him again.

  Three months later John and Dominique were moved back to another of the border forts, where once again they settled in for a boring six months of reading, gambling and occasional going out on patrol, looking for illegals who were crossing over the border. Dominique would laugh and remark that there were no people trying to cross into Djibouti, who the hell would want to ever cross over the desert that lay out in front of them.

  The very next day while on a patrol driving through a very rocky outcrop they were fired upon. The shots had them pinned down for almost two hours, until finally the firing ceased. Slowly they came out from under the rocks they had sought for cover to find that the enemy had vanished leaving behind then two dead Legionnaire’s. This brought them all back to the real world. The world they had been trained for, how was it they had let their guard down and been caught off guard. From then on, they did everything by the book, but it was all for nothing as it was the only time they were shot at during this stay on the border.

  The Legion was always making it plain they frowned on people who deserted and that they had agreements with Somalia and Ethiopia that if any of their Legionnaire’s crossed over the border they were to be locked up and the keys thrown away. When they eventually decided to release them, it was agreed that they would then return them to the Legion. Who would once again dish out a second round of severe punishment to them. Hoping it would deter other would be deserters.

  Upon the completion of their six months on the border, and their return to Djibouti, everything seemed to be different. They still got involved in a couple of parties, but they did not get plastered as they had on their first return, that had led to Hans’s accident. Of his condition they were both pissed off as they could neither find out how he was or where he had been sent.

  This time they were assigned to other duties mainly driving the Officers around the local area of Djibouti. It was a plumb job and sought after by most of the other Legionnaire’s. Rumour had it that they had bribed an Officer who had been taken for a lot of cash during a card game. John would always laugh when asked if it was true, not really wanting to tell them that in fact it was.

  Together they returned to the border for one more tour, this time there was a little more excitement as the fort was attacked four times. To say attacked would not be totally accurate, it was more like on each occasion shots were fired from a long distance away into the fort. Although it was impossible to find out where the shots came from. As a precaution, they were still made to stand too, and too take up defensive positions for most of the night. Not knowing if the so-called enemy might return and attack the camp. John knew this was an old ploy, one man could fire a single shot into the fort and keep the whole camp awake for most of the night, if they chose. If this was done over a period of four nights, you can imagine how tired the Legionnaire’s would soon become.

  After three years, John and Dominique were returned to Aubagne in France and enjoyed a cooler climate for a year. Neither applied for their real identity to be restored. They could not see what difference it would make, as far as they were concerned they were in the Legion for five years and during that time they would not be going anywhere. At one time, they thought they might see out their remaining time in France, but fate was to deal them a cruel blow.

  Back in Djibouti, one of the forts located at a place called Holly-Holly had been under attack, and there had been many casualties. A large group of Legionnaire’s who had all served in that area before were hastily rounded up and flown out at record speed. Although it was almost a week before they arrived on the ground at Holly-Holly. To walk right in on a large firefight as the place had been under siege for over a week.

  John knew very little about the area, not having served there in the past. However, with the French Government cut backs taking place, they had decided to withdraw in a few months. To protect them during the withdrawal they needed a reconnaissance unit to cover the withdrawal. Holly-Holly was an area that had never been completely secured from guerrilla activity. It was believed that if an attack upon the French withdrawal were to be launched, it would come from this area.

  When things happen in this sort of work they happen very fast. This was no exception, and John was given only four hours to be ready to move out.

  Once again John had been teamed up with Dominique who used the code name of ‘Firefly’. While John kept his original SAS name of ‘Sleeper’ after all it had been lucky for him during other trips, so why not now.

  Later that day, with about an hour of daylight left, they boarded a transport aircraft to make a parachute drop. The area chosen was close by a couple of tracks that they knew the enemy would have to pass if they wanted to get to Holy-Holy. The Legion needed as much pre-waring as possible if they were going to be attacked.

  They delayed opening their chutes until only fifteen hundred feet from the ground. However, just in case they had problems, they did have an automatic opener to assist them. Their skill in steering the chutes saved them a lot of marching to their pre-planned destination.

  Once on the ground they located each other and buried their chutes in the sand. Then they made their way across the desert to a waddy that had been previously marked out for them as a place to set up a base camp. The waddy was an old waterway that had not seen water for many years. Hiding within its steep sided banks would give them good cover. Plus, they would be able to dig in to the banks to build some sort of hide out where the radio could be hidden. From this location they would be able to go out on their reconnaissance trips. The reason Dominique had been chosen was because he spoke Arabic and French fluently. Even while they were on the plane flying to the destination, Dominique was giving John his first lessons in Arabic. It had been one of his strong points, an ability to pick things up quickly and this included languages. He might not have the time to get the accents right, but it would get him through if ever they were caught in a tight spot. To help them further they had with them local Arab costumes and they were to let their beards grow nice and bushy. Add to this a bottle of walnut stain that they were to use for their hands and faces, and overnight they were to become instant locals. If you were ever to meet these two you would not be able to tell them from the real thing.

  They were hiding very close to a large high escarpment. Which daily they would climb to look down on to a cross track junction, and take notes of the traffic that was passing by. It was also known that there was an Arab village as well as a terrorist camp in the area. They were to watch the comings and goings from this village as well. However, the village was also to become their lifeline. They would have to visit it to get some water. Water being the lifeblood of everybody and everything in this environment. At the moment they would have to get around on foot, but they were constantly on the lookout for a vehicle, that they could seize, or even a camel if it were possible.

  During the long cold nights when the temperatures drop down as low as zero, they found it very hard to keep warm. They could not light a fire, as this would give their position away, and anyway there was no timber to be found in the area.

  It became a boring routine that consisted of climbing the escarpment and lying out in the full heat of the day, while watching a track that only a handful of vehicles were using daily. They had to be careful not to be seen by anybody, they could only guess at what might happen if they were caught. The French were not very well thought of in this part of the country. Even though it had become common knowledge that they were pulling out. The activists in this area would love to make one final strike against them, and be able to inflict as many casualties as possible. This would be a prop
aganda coup for them.

  Dressed in their Arab gear they visited the village on a couple of occasions to get a closer look and to purchase some food. It was always a good thing to eat the local foods so that their bodies smelt like the locals. It was for this same reason that they would not use body deodorants and after shaves or anything westernised. These smells would stand out like a pork chop at a Jewish wedding, and giving them away. All races have their own body odours that are derived from the food and the way in which they live. To be successful in this type of work you have to become a local in every sense of the word. As John would always say “You have to eat, sleep and drink like a local.”

  On several occasions they reported back to headquarters by radio the movement of a few trucks that had a cargo of men all sporting firearms of some description. On another occasion a truck was seen to be heading towards the direction of Holly-Holly. Although they did not know if Holly-Holly was their eventual destination, for all they knew it could have turned off and headed in another completely different direction when out of sight.

  One morning they were awakened from a light sleep while lying in the Waddy. The low bleeping sound from one of their alarms had been set off. Some body was approaching their base camp, and who it was they did not know. They had to assume that whoever it was, it had to be the enemy. They had dug a large hole into the bank of the waddy, and had placed large rocks and boulders around its entrance in a manner not to arouse suspicion. At all times they had kept as much of the gear as possible within this hide out. It was just a matter of brushing away what tracks were visible and crawling inside, sliding a larger boulder across the entrance behind them. It was very dark inside plus there was not a regular flow of oxygen for them, but it would have to do. Now it was just a case of lying quietly and waiting to see what was about to happen. They had the motion sensor alarms set up in about six different locations around this part of the Waddy. With the receiving station now turned down very low and inside of their dug out with them. They would not dare to venture out until one of the other alarms went off, hopefully telling them that the intruder or intruders had passed them by. However, their plight was not over quickly, as they had to wait for more than three hours, before the alarm finally sounded once again. In that time, they had both nearly suffocated by the lack of oxygen.

  Upon sliding the boulder back very slowly nobody was to be seen. They then took a look to try and work out whom their visitors had been. About one hundred meters up the Waddy the remains of what looked like an area where a small group of men had stopped for a break and to take a rest. They even found some small holes in the ground that had been used as toilets. John climbed out of the Waddy to see if their intruders were still in sight. In the distance he could see what looked like a small group of about a dozen armed men. All were making their way up the Waddy towards the escarpment. Up at that height John and Dominque would be very easy targets, therefore they decided to return to their dug out. They put their heads together and came up with the conclusion that somebody had seen them at some time, and now a search was on for them. Although they also decided to stay where they were for the moment. Maybe they were safer here, as this area had already been searched.

  Headquarters had asked them to stay put for one more week and to then make their way back to a location where they could be airlifted out by helicopter. They sat down to try and work out how they were going to achieve this trip after all it was a distance of nearly one hundred and twenty miles. As it was at the moment it looked like they were going to have to walk every single mile. They decide that it would be easier and safer at night. Working on the assumption that they could cover forty miles a night that meant that it would take them three nights.

  They waited two days before venturing back into the village to get some water for the trip. They were trying to stock up but not to arouse anybody’s suspicions while doing so. Plus, whatever they bought they were going to have to carry it for three days. It was water that was going to be their biggest problem. Although by walking at night they would miss the heat of the day, so it would be cooler and they would not need as much. But where to lie up during the heat of the day, that was going to be a big problem, and as yet they had not come up with an answer.

  They eventually set off as soon as it became dark giving themselves three days to make it back. It was no good taking chances, they would only get one stab at this. Although they did not know what would happen to them, especially if they were captured.

  That first night they covered about fifty miles at almost a running pace. It was hard work as they were on soft sand for some of the time. But both of them knew that they had to get some lea way up their sleeve. If they were to hit problems later and not be able to do the miles, then it was better to have something in hand now. Besides they knew that by daybreak they would have to make for some sort of cover, to get out the heat. Also there was still the possibility that the enemy were looking for them.

  Their destination had been towards a small rocky outcrop that ran across their path. This out crop would also slow down their progress the following day. So it was with great relieve that they made their goal that first day just as dawn was breaking.

  After a short rest they decided to push on, believing that the rocks they were now picking their way through would provide them with a little cover. Also they were thinking that if they could get through the rocks in daylight, it would be easier to see where they were going. Once through, it would also be easier once again when they were out on the open desert.

  They decided to rest up at midday. They were now very tired and besides it was very hot. So they found an overhanging ledge that they could get under and out of the midday sun. Even though it was stiflingly hot it did not take them long to fall asleep.

  Un-known to them they had been seen by a local out on patrol aboard his trusty camel, as they made their way off the soft desert sand and into the rocks. The Arab had got a message back to his headquarters reporting the sighting. The Arab terrorists then sent a body of men to try and capture them at all costs.

  John and Dominique awoke around five in the afternoon as it was cooling off and decided that they must carry on. With luck they could find a way through the remaining rocks before darkness fell. Then it would be easy to walk on a compass bearing across the desert. Which is what they did, but at around midnight when they were in total darkness, suddenly from nowhere four or five lights were switch on to them from all around. The lights were almost blinding and caught them completely off guard. Both men brought their guns up into a firing position, but before they could open fire. A single shot rang out and Dominique fell to the sand with blood running from a small bullet hole in his forehead, between his eyes. Before John could respond in any way he took a heavy blow to the back of the neck. They had truly been caught with their guard down, both had thought that there would be nobody out there that late at night. How wrong they had been, and now Dominique had paid the ultimate price with his life.

  When John came around he was tied up and lying in the back of an open sided land rover style vehicle, like the ones used by the long-range desert group during the Second World War. It was completely open and had no sides or covers on. Strapped to the outside was just about everything that was required for desert travel.

  He ached from head to foot guessing that he had taken a major beating during his capture. He looked around and to his amazement there were only two other guys in the truck and both were in the front. Now was the best time to escape he thought, in training you are taught to escape as soon as you are captured. If you wait until your captors get you back to their camp, then you are on their ground, and you might not know where you are. You will also be surrounded by a larger number of the enemy, making it harder to escape.

  It was still dark, but he had no idea what time it was. His first problem was to remove the bonds from around his wrists. Because he was being tossed around in the vehicle as it sped across the desert, it would give him a little cover while he
struggled to get them untied. While all this was happening he suddenly remembered Dominique and that he had been shot. He started to wonder why they had chosen to do this, why had he been the one chosen to live. What he did know was that there was nothing nice awaiting him when they finally arrived at their destination. Believing that he was the one they had chosen to torture. He dreaded to think what was going to happen to him next.

  John could not believe his luck as he managed to untie his wrists, from there it was easy to get the bonds off his feet. The darkness was helping him as he suddenly jumped up and grabbed the two guys in the front by their heads and banged them together, while they were engaged in a close conversation. John was suddenly wracked by pain from his beating, realising that it must have been much worse than he had first believed. Lucky for him the guy on the left in the passenger seat was knocked unconscious and fell out of the vehicle. However, the driver started to struggle so John put his arm around his neck and applied a lot of pressure, it was only a few seconds before he broke his neck and also pushed him out of the truck. It was very painful for him to try and hold on to the steering wheel, and to climb over into the front of the vehicle at the same time. Somehow he managed it and within a few seconds he had control of the vehicle.

  Suddenly shots were being fire in his direction. It was only now that he realised that there were three other vehicles in the convoy. From the position he had been lying in the back he had not realised this. There was one ahead of him and two behind, who had probably seen the two guards being tossed out. He swung the wheel to the right and headed off in another direction with all three vehicles now chasing after him. In order to try and dodge the hail of bullets that were heading in his direction he was swinging the steering wheel from side to side while keeping his head low. The chase went on for a long time and to make it harder John was weaving around any large boulders that he could find. At one time when he looked back he was relieved to see that one of the vehicles had disappeared. He was hoping that maybe it had broken down, “Then there were two,” he said to himself. At least the firing had eased, he just hoped that they were running low on ammunition. Up until then their aim had not been too good, but he wasn’t sure how long his luck was going to hold, if what happened to Dominque was anything to go by.

  He knew that before long it would soon start getting light, so he had to shake these guys off his tail before then. He had to find somewhere to hide and lay up for the day. During the day it would be easy to locate him and pick him off. He also needed some rest, his body was still very sore. He had not checked himself over so at this stage he was not sure of the full extent of his injuries.

  In the distance he could make out what he hoped was some sort of small rocky mountainous area, so he headed straight for it. Once there he started weaving in and out of the rocks and boulders just praying that luck was going to be on his side. It was, and soon he could not see anybody behind him. Although he had to be careful one false move, and if he hit a rock or tore the engine sump off, then he was in trouble. After a time, John swung the truck between two very large rocks into a dead end canyon and stopped. He then switched off the engine to have a listen. He could hear the other vehicles, but they were a little way off and sounded faint. He decided to stay where he was and too try and get some rest. So he crawled under the truck to try and get a little protection from the sun that was by now starting to come up.

  He did not get much sleep because of all the excitement, plus he was expecting to be found at any moment. At least he was resting his weary body. His thoughts drifted on to Dominique and of what they might have done with his body. Then on to him and of making it back in time to be airlifted out. At the moment he had no idea where he was. The only thing for certain that he knew was that if he slept through the day. That would only leave him one nights travel to reach his goal, because the next day was his dead line. The latest he could arrive back to Holy would be around four in the afternoon.

  As the heat of the day started to wear off, John crawled out from under the truck and dusted himself off. He had survived the day and upon inspection of his body found himself to be relatively unscathed. He had a large amount of bruises on him and there were a few cuts to his face that had been bleeding. Other than that, he was not in to bad a shape. He scavenged around the truck looking for anything that might be useful to him. To his amazement there was a radio on board and also a Russian built assault rifle that had belonged to the driver. However, there was very little ammunition to go with it, only about forty rounds. For John these finds were a gift from heaven and all that he needed. With these two items plus the vehicle he would be able to make his way back. He spent some time trying to tune in the dilapidated old radio. Scanning through the bands for anything that resembled a French-speaking wavelength. It was then that he realised that it was damaged. It had taken a bullet during the chase. Although it did seem like it was sending a message, it was just not receiving. Although John had no way of knowing this for certain. He spent almost an hour sending a message that read “Sleeper is running late for rendezvous keep an eye out for me, Fire Fly is dead”

  It was also lucky for him that he had not been stripped of his watch an old fashioned one with hands. This would enable him to use it as a compass. John had studied the sun and had worked out a direction that he must head, in order to reach Holly and safety. He would be heading due south so to start with he should have the sun behind him. About an hour into his drive he came across what is called a road in the desert and it was heading in his general direction towards the South. A road out there consisted of a line of sand filled forty-gallon oil drums stood on end and in a rough line across the desert about a quarter of a mile apart.

  After travelling for about four hours he stopped to have a drink and to stroll around the truck for a little exercise. He had been lucky once again when he found some water on board in an old jerry can. As he turned and looked back the way he had come from, his attention was drawn to what looked like a speck of dust on the horizon. He immediately knew that he was being chased. The terrorists as he liked to call them were on to him and in hot pursuit. He could be wrong, but he did not intend hanging around to find out, after all he still had a long way to go before he would be relatively safe.

  John jumped on the gas and just kept the truck in a straight line. He had to be careful not to overcook the engine. While at the same time he had to keep the speed up in order to out run his pursuers. He did not know how fast they were travelling and he did not intend stopping to look behind to find out. At the moment it was a case of head down and arse up and no regard for anything else. The occasional glance over his shoulder was of no help to him anyway. With the vehicle jumping around he could not see very clearly plus he had no goggles to protect his eyes from the sand and glare.

  Then quite by chance in the distance ahead of him he could see what looked like a sand storm whirling around. This was his only chance it was too big to go round and he dare not stay where he was and let it pass. John just drove straight at it and prayed for the protection that it might give him. Within ten minutes he was completely engulfed by the swirling mass of sand that stung every part of his bare flesh that it came into contact with. However, he kept driving even though he had his eyes held shut as tight as possible and could not see where he was going. He had tied a handkerchief over his mouth and nose but it was not doing much good to protect him. Finally, in shear desperation he had to stop and grabbing an old cover from the truck he jumped out and slid underneath, covering his head and body the best he could while he tried to wait out the storm.

  The storm raged for the rest of the day and well into the night. So much for John thinking that it was just a little storm and that he would be able to weather it out. When the wind finally drop it was past midnight. John was not sure where he was, so he decided to take a further rest through till morning.

  Once awake the first thing he did was to spend half an hour resending his message, in the faint hope that somebody just might pic
k it up. John’s hope of the message being picked up were coming true, not by his friends, but by the terrorists. The radio message told them that he was still alive, and they also had a rough idea as to where he was. They could also wait until morning before going in for the kill. The terrorists had wanted him alive so they could interrogate him. Upon reflection they wished they had shot him along with Dominique, when they had the chance.

  At daybreak John climbed on board the truck and made some calculations with his watch against the sun. Then without a minute to spare he set off in what he had decided was a southerly direction. It was now Friday morning and by his calculations he only had about ten hours to make the rendezvous with the Legion. He was hoping that if he kept driving in a southerly direction he should hit the main track. Then it would just be a case of deciding whether he turned east or west to drive into Holly Holly.

  In the distance he could see a high escarpment, if he was correct the road should be on the other side. However, for the moment it looked a long way off, if in fact it wasn’t a mirage.

  After several hours he stopped to take a break and to recheck his directions against his watch. Looking behind at the direction he had just come from. A cold shiver was sent down his spine. There in the distance on the horizon was the tell tail blob of dust that told him that his pursuers were once again hot on his trail.

  Without a minute to spare he jumped back onto the truck and sped off as fast as he could. He was now driving into an area that was scattered with boulders some of them quite large. The last thing he wanted now was to hit one of these that really would be the end for him. He could feel his heart racing as the adrenalin was passing through his body. Had he come this far only to be caught within sight of his goal. Without warning the trucks engine started to splutter and the drive became very erratic.

  As he glanced down at the dashboard he could see that he was out of petrol. The one thing he had never thought to check, he pulled over and searched around the truck just hoping that amongst all of the stuff that was still strapped to its outside there would be some fuel. However, this time he was unlucky and he found nothing. He climbed back on board thinking that he should keep going until it stopped completely. After all it was better than walking and it looked like he was going to be doing a lot of that very soon.

  He only got about a mile further on before the vehicle came to a permanent stand still as the engine finally died and stuttered to a halt. He jumped out grabbing a water canteen and the assault rifle and struck out on foot. No way was he going to just sit and wait for the inevitable. He would fight to the end, something he had always done. He immediately set of at a jogging speed with the sweat pouring from him. Being just after midday the sun was at its hottest, as it mercilessly beat down on him. However, it was not going to stop him as he headed for the escarpment lying dead ahead. Behind him the vehicles where gaining and gaining fast, they had him in their sights. Within half an hour they started shooting at him. He could hear the shots, but the bullets were not reaching him, and dropping short. Although this soon changed when he heard a couple go over his head, then a couple landed in the sand beside him. But he was determined to keep going, at least if they shot him in the back he would not see it coming, and it would be over very quickly.

  By now he was in a hell of a mess his lungs were bursting because of the break neck speed that he was keeping up. There was so much sweat in his eyes that he could hardly see where he was going. A large volley of shots rang out and he felt the shock waves as they passed perilously close overhead. He knew now that his would be captors were only a couple of hundred meters behind him, and that it was all over.

  John finally stopped through shear exhaustion, turned around and sunk to his knees facing them. He knew it was all over and he had given it his best shot, but it hadn’t been good enough. The terrorists eased up their vehicles and advanced very slowly towards him. John was a spent man he even had a slight tear in his eye as he watched them approach.

  Suddenly an engine could be heard thumping away and getting louder by the second. When from nowhere a French Puma helicopter appeared coming up from behind a very large sand ridge directly behind him, and started pumping automatic fire into the rebels and their vehicles. The firepower was awesome, destroying everything that it struck. John knew it was the Legion after all he had undergone some of his training with these aircraft. He never even fired a shot himself he just sat in amazement and watched the destruction and carnage going on right in front of him.

  When it was all over the chopper landed right beside him and a warm out stretched hand was offered to pull him on-board. As John grabbed the hand he looked up in to the eyes of a door gunner who mouthed the word, “Room for one”. There was no time to talk, and anyway with all the noise of the chopper it would have been pointless. They did not need words as they hugged each other in the doorway as the chopper took off and headed for safety.

  The pilot shouted into his ear as they put down at Holly Holly that they had picked up his radio signal, but had not been able to pin point his whereabouts accurately. It had been like looking for a needle in proverbial haystack. It was a matter of just looking in areas that they thought he might be.

  As he stepped from the chopper John had a big smile on his face, he sunk to his knees and kissed the ground. Only now amongst friends did he feel safe. Finally, he could put his feet up and un-wind, he could now enjoy his freedom. A freedom that just a few hours earlier did not seem possible.

  John had been very lucky, as it turned out he really was amongst the very last to leave the area, the Officers and big wigs having left an hour ahead of him.

  When eventually his five years in the Legion was up, he was returned to Aubagne where upon he was handed his worldly possessions that had been taken from him during that first day he had arrived, including his Passport. He was also handed his honourable discharge paper signed by the duty officer of the day, along with a medal for his troubles and a train ticket to an Airport. However, he was not sure whether he was happy to be leaving or not. After all, he had just given five years of his life to the Legion and at times, he had enjoyed the way of life and the job he had been doing. Although he had lost two very good friends and they would be sadly missed.

  Arriving back at London’s Heathrow Airport was one of the best feelings he had enjoyed for a few years. It felt good to be standing on English soil once again. However, as he passed through customs he almost used his alias name of John by mistake. Which might have caused a few problems.