Is there anyone in the French Foreign Legion who has time to go out fighting these days, or are they all busy writing their memoirs? Since Simon Murray's seminal Legionnaire of 1978 the trickle of books about the Legion has become a tidal wave. I've counted seven in English alone between 2005 and the present. One pictures the lads scribbling away in the foyer of an evening, shaven heads bowed, Kronenbourgs neglected for the time being.
These recent books inevitably have a sameness; the aspiring recruit is fed up/has family or girlfriend problems/wants to relive his old army life/seeks adventure/likes the uniform/glamour of the legion. He is accepted (one of the chosen few) and survives basic training with its boring chores and incredible physical extremes. If his rating is high and he is British, he likely opts to join the elite parachute regiment, 2 REP. Here he makes friends and enemies, endures even more physical hardship, may see some action and is likely to leave after his initial five years are over - perhaps deserting earlier if he can take no more - his obsession with the Legion cured.
Scotsman Alex Lochrie's book, published in 2009, is different, bringing a new dimension to accounts of life in the Legion. He suffered from dyslexia in childhood, had an unsympathetic family, but still carved out various careers as artist, illustrator, advertising manager, policeman, and in his spare time, drove rally cars and learnt to fly. In his late thirties he suffered, dare one say, a mid-life crisis and found himself, like many before him, standing uncertainly outside the ancient gates of Fort de Nogent, the Legion's Paris recruiting base. Once accepted, 38-year-old Lochrie assumed not a nom de guerre but a new age - at 28, ten years younger. To his surprise he was chosen to join the 2éme REP - he had expected the equivalent of the old Pay Corps - and stayed in from 1983-94, leaving when he nearly 50 when a good pension deal was offered him.
There are light moments in the book, the tricks played on the sergeant escorting his group to a caporals' course, and how ladies' tights were discovered to provided as much warmth in -20C temperatures as expensive Arctic underpants. But it is his accounts of duties in the Gulf and in former French colonies of Chad and the Central African Republic that help to provide that extra dimension.
Even more remarkable are Chapters 14-16. Lochrie was part of a UN peace-keeping force based at Sarajevo airport during the harrowing Bosnian War where his use of digital photography became of paramount importance. He experienced great dangers, a soul-destroying atmosphere, corruptness, overwhelming poverty. His anger at journalists who manipulated events to get a good story is palpable. It was here that Caporal-chef Lochrie won the French Military medal, about which he is extremely modest.
A couple of small points. At the stroke of a pen, Lochrie creates a new outfit, the 14th demi-brigade. Maybe he doesn't like using the number 13. And he ends with an untranslatable motto - Legis Pastra Nostra. Probably the famous Legion motto Legio Patria Nostra, the Legion is our Country, is meant. Perhaps someone at the publishers just couldn't read his writing.