Chapter 4: The Universal Soldier

“During World War One, Grigor was a member of the Czechoslovak Legion that fought alongside Imperial Russian troops against Austrian and German...”

“Just a minute,” I said, rudely interrupting the Chevalier. “I thought you said Grigor Pavel was Russian, although Pavel doesn’t sound very Russian. Why would a Russian be in the Czechoslovak Legion? And Bohemia, the Czechs’ homeland, was part of the Austro Hungarian Empire. What are Czechs doing fighting against their own country?”

The Chevalier sighed. “So many questions, Philippe. But to answer your first. Grigor Pavel is the name he gave when he enlisted in the Foreign Legion. That is his official name, no matter the name or names he had been known by before. As for the Czechs and Slovaks who served in the Czech Legion; they wanted an autonomous, independent, Czecho-Slovak country rather than just being Austrian provinces under the rule of foreigners. They were either deserters from the Austrian army, to which they felt no allegiance, or were prisoners of war who had volunteered to join the Czech Legion. As for what Grigor was doing in the Czech Legion, according to him he was a Liaison Officer between the Czech Legion and the Third Corps of the Second Russian Army, under whose orders the Czech Legion served.”

“So he must have been able to speak Czech?”

“Possibly but not necessarily. French was the Lingua franca, literally, in Europe before English, or rather American, became the dominant language in commerce and diplomacy. Grigor speaks excellent French besides several other languages

“Okay. Sorry I interrupted you.”

He favoured me with a slight, tight, smile and continued. “When the first Russian revolution took place in...”

“The first Russian revolution! How many...?” I saw the look of displeasure on his face and shut my mouth and looked apologetic.

“Took place in early March of nineteen seventeen it resulted in Tsar Nicolas’ abdication. Many Tsarist Russian officers joined the Czech Legion as there was widespread mutiny within the Russian army while the war with Germany and Austria continued. Later that year, in November, well in October under the old Russian calendar, but November by ours, the Bolshevik faction seized power in the second Russian revolution, and in March nineteen eighteen the Bolshevik government signed a peace treaty with Germany and Austria. By then there was civil war raging across the former Russian Empire: the Reds — Bolsheviks and their supporters — versus The Whites — a loose alliance of counter revolutionaries, Tsarist officers, and other political groups — who were opposed to the Bolsheviks. The Czech Legion fought alongside the Whites, hoping to gain independence for their homeland.”

The Chevalier saw the question on my face and explained.

“After the first revolution the plan had been for the Czech Legion to make its way to Vladivostok and be transported by American and British vessels to the Western Front in Europe but the First World War ended before the Legion reached Siberia. Nevertheless the Allies; France, the USA, and Britain, wanted the Bolshevik revolution to fail and supported the Czech Legion in their hopes for an independent state, their price being that the Legion supported the Whites against the Reds.” He paused and sighed. “Unfortunately for Europe the Bolsheviks were succeeding in the civil war and eventually the Allies realised the Whites’ cause was lost so agreed to transport the Czech Legion back to Europe. By a combination of military successes, diplomacy, and bribery the Czech Legion made its way across Russia from the Polish/Galician front in the west to the Siberian port of Vladivostok in the east.”

The Chevalier then gave me a potted account of how this was achieved, using information given him by Grigor Pavel. At the time I wondered at the veracity of Grigor Pavel, as it seemed so far-fetched, but much later in my life, when doing research for the book I was writing, I found the exploits of the Czech Legion in moving across Russia unbelievably true. The Czech Legion traversed Russia along the Trans-Siberian railway, employing diplomacy when they could, bribes from the gold bullion acquired from the Imperial treasury when diplomacy did not succeed. When both methods failed, they fought their way through the obstructions in their path. They commandeered a number of armoured trains to move 60,000 legionnaires, 6,000 civilians — mostly the ‘wives’ and children of the legionnaires — plus artillery, munitions, and a diminishing amount of gold bullion. There were bakeries, hospitals, workshops, and probably nurseries, on the trains.

The Czech Legion was an irresistible force, battering its way along the Trans-Siberian railway, pausing for several months at times to regroup and resupply before steaming ever eastward. After several years of travelling and fighting the last of the legionnaires were finally evacuated from Vladivostok at the end of 1921 by ships of France, the USA, and Britain. Some sailed across the Pacific and through the Panama Canal and some travelled via the Indian Ocean and the Suez Canal, to Europe. The Czech Legion returned to the newly founded state of Czechoslovakia as the heroes they undoubtedly were, Grigor Pavel among them.

You would think that would have been more than enough adventure for one life but in 1936 Grigor Pavel went to Spain to fight on the side of the Republicans during the bitter Spanish Civil War. The Chevalier was not clear as to why he went but believed Grigor’s wife, acquired in Siberia, had recently died and also that Grigor had links with a Basque separatist group who were allied to the Republicans.

“With no reason to keep him at home, and a just cause to fight for, I reckon Grigor couldn’t help but be drawn into the conflict,” the Chevalier said. “I know he took part in the Battle of Guadalajara where the Republicans scored a notable victory over the Nationalists. He was in Guernica when the town was bombed, and was also at Bilbao when it fell to the Nationalists. The battalion of the International Brigade — foreign volunteers who fought for the Republicans — that Grigor served with was disbanded at the beginning of nineteen thirty nine. He and what was left of the unit crossed the Pyrenees into France where they were interned. He was released later that year when the civil war came to an end, and General Franco became Dictator of Spain. The Munich Agreement, which had ceded the Sudetenland region of Czechoslovakia to Germany and effectively handed the whole country to Hitler, had been signed the previous year. Grigor realised then that he had no future in Czechoslovakia and enlisted in the French Foreign Legion. The Legion welcomed men like him with open arms and after completing his basic training at Sidi Bel Abbès he was sent to the Fifth Foreign Infantry Regiment (5th REI) stationed in Tonkin, the place we know today as North Vietnam.” The Chevalier gave a small smile. “Grigor told me his ship had just passed through the Suez Canal when the news came that France and Britain had declared war on Germany. It was the third of September nineteen thirty nine.”

“So Grigor Pavel had already served in Indochina during World War Two, before you joined him in 5REI after the war?”

“Yes, but I only have first-hand knowledge of his exploits in Indochina during my time with him.”

The Chevalier glanced at his watch. “We have a full and busy day ahead us tomorrow, Philippe! We’d best be making our way back to Quartier Vienot. After the Camerone Day parade we are invited to Grigor’s hotel in Marseille for the evening. I expect he will regale us with stories of his time in Tonkin during World War Two. It will be a most rewarding experience for us both.”

I was astounded that I was to be in the august company of a hero of the Legion, and wondered why I had been chosen for such an honour.

The Camerone Day Parade went off without a hitch, and it was a special delight for me to see the Chevalier almost bursting with pride as he escorted his old comrade in arms. The Wooden Hand of Capitaine Danjou was paraded through the ranks of us legionnaires drawn up in review order presenting arms, and as the Chevalier passed me I noticed tears of pride glinting in the corner of his eyes. Grigor Pavel was no less as proud. In fact, he and the Chevalier were not unlike in build and bearing, although I estimated Pavel to be three score years and ten — possibly a few years over — but he stood as erect, polished and proud as any man of the parade.

There was an après parade function held in the Officer’s Mess for the top brass of the Foreign Legion and French Army who had attended the ceremony, together with the bearer of The Wooden Hand and his escorts. Thus it was late afternoon before the Chevalier and I travelled, in civilian clothing, to the hotel in Marseille where we were to meet Grigor Pavel and two other members of the escort party. The Chevalier gave me brief details of the two other escorts as our taxi made the journey from Quartier Vienot to Marseille. One was a serving legionnaire, Sergent-chef Oskar Bruckner with 20 years of service, who I recalled from my time with BEPI, and a former Adjutant, Tomas Lejeune, who had served with both Pavel and the Chevalier. I noticed Lejeune had used a cane during The Wooden Hand ceremony and the Chevalier informed me Lejeune had been wounded during the fighting in Algieria in 1961 and had been discharged as medically unfit.

I was somewhat surprised that the hotel where the soiree was to be held was in the same area of Marseille as the sleazy hotel Chardonnay du Plessier had taken me on our first ‘date.’ However the Hotel Kaliphornika was situated on a wide boulevard along with a number of restaurants and bistros. The hotel exterior was in good condition and the interior furnished in a 1930’s style of décor with a matching ambience. I noticed there were many young and attractive females in the foyer and lobby but none dressed as ‘flappers.’ The voluptuous, dark haired, female behind the receptionist desk cast a sultry look at the Chevalier and me.

“You must be the guests of M’sieu Pavel,” she said, more as a statement than a query.

“How perspicacious of you, Mam’selle,” the Chevalier said.

“I know a legionnaire when I see one, in or out of uniform.” She replied, and then gave a throaty chuckle and an exaggerated wink. “M’sieu Pavel is in room eleven, along the hall.” She pointed to a corridor to the left of her desk. After thanking her we made our way to the room.

I was a bit apprehensive meeting these luminaries of the Legion and again wondered why the Chevalier had invited me to join him at what would be a gathering of old comrades. I found out why I had been awarded the honour when the Chevalier introduced me.

“This is Philippe Soissons, the man who saved my life, and someone in whom I place my trust.” Pavel, Lejeune, and Bruckner all shook my hand and clapped me on my back.

“Any man who has saved the life of Red Maurice can be sure of a welcome among us,” said Pavel. “I salute you, Phillip Soissons.”

He kissed me on both cheeks then raised his glass of wine and toasted my good health and long life. The other two joined him in the toast.

It was if I had been given the key to a locked and secret room as, during that evening, the comrades spoke of their former lives in the legion and events as if I were one of their friends. It was former Adjutant-chef Pavel who talked the most. To be honest, it was his story that was most enthralling. In fact it was his story I heard that evening in a hotel in Marseille that was the genesis of the book I wrote many years later. I noticed there were at least a dozen empty wine bottles on the table and surmised these old legionnaires still retained the capacity for alcohol from their former days. Pavel noted my interest in the bottles of wine.