Chapter 7. I want to be an instructor bold (and never do what I am told)

I want to be an instructor bold (and never do what I am told).

DILE stayed another week at Camp du Larzac and on our return to Quartier Vienot spent two more weeks writing up reports and making assessments of how well the new procedures put in place at 61st BMGL were working. There had been no further progress of the investigation into the theft of equipment, and Captain Desalle had been released from arrest.

Lieutenant Lorenzo Masséna had not been interviewed in connection with the missing spares although he had been second in command of the Engineer Construction Company (CTG) of 61^st BMGL from where the equipment had gone missing. He was now at Castelnaudary taking part in the first four weeks of the Basic Course for Enlisted Volunteers. However he was accommodated in the Officers Mess and had a much easier time of it than had he been billeted in one of the twenty-man rooms, with kit inspection every morning before breakfast. He didn’t attend morning parades or the foot and arms drill lessons, all he did was ensure he would be fit enough to carry 35kgs 80kms in 48 hours on the White Kepi March at the end of the four weeks, and spent the greater part of the day in the gymnasium; circuit training, pumping iron, and hanging upside down from wall bars.

I had completed my report concerning the inspection of the Legion Construction Company (CTL) of 61^st BMGL and was sat back in my chair thinking it was a job well done when the Chevalier entered the office. “Colonel Torquonde wants to see you immediately,” he said.

I thought back to what I had done over the past six weeks but could not recall anything warranting an arse chewing so made my way to the Colonel’s office with a clear conscience and at full speed

“I have good news and bad news, Sergent Soissons,” the Colonel said as I entered his office. “The good news is your application for instructional duties has been approved. The bad news is your application for instructional duties have been approved! The bad news is for DILE as you have been an asset to the Inspectorate and I will be sorry to lose you. Report to Lapasset Barracks in Castelnaudary by twenty three hundred tomorrow. There is transport leaving Aubagne for Castelnaudary at midday tomorrow. If you have goodbyes to say tonight try and keep a clear head when out drinking with your comrades. It will not look good if you arrive hung over at your new posting”

I took his advice and was clear-headed, if somewhat teary -eyed, as the Renault 4x4 driven by the postal clerk drove away from Quartier Vienot en route to Castelnaudary. The last person to shake my hand had been the Chevalier. I had served with him for most of my service and I regarded him more of a friend than a senior rank.

“I’ve enjoyed our time together, Philippe,” he said as he gripped my hand, “and hope we will serve together again.”

‘Amen to that’ I thought as we drove out of the barrack gates.

“I am Lieutenant Masséna, commanding officer of the Continuation Training Company of the Legion Regiment of Instruction. Before any of you are taken on as instructors you will need to pass the two weeks course where you will learn class room technique, how to assess the progress of trainees, and all the other skills required for an instructor in the Legion,” he paused, and looked sternly at the forty or so aspirant instructors seated in front of him. “There will be a practical examination at the end of the course and I expect most of you to fail. We have high standards in the legion,” he grinned at the forlorn look on some of the faces before him. “Unfortunately I will not be here to keep an eye on you during your two weeks of training as I will be leading a survival and navigation course in the Pyrenees for the next three weeks, but my able assistant, Adjutant Brazzi,” he indicated a surly looking Adjutant at his side, “will keep you all up to the mark until my return. Of course, the failures will no longer be here so I will see what’s left of you in three weeks’ time. Dismiss!”

I thought that an extremely disheartening introduction but remembered how crass and insensitive the man had been at Camp du Larzac. Masséna may have completed the White Kepi March but he was certainly no Legion officer who are far more supportive of their men, and encourage rather than demean. However Masséna certainly looked the part although his hair, dark brown and curly, was slightly longer than most Legion officers wore it. He stood at least 1 metre 85 cms tall (6ft), and was broad shouldered and well-muscled. A recently acquired thin black moustache, matched with the square jaw and white teeth of a Hollywood leading man, harked back to a 1930’s era gigolo. He would have no trouble attracting females, but I knew, from what I learned at the Hotel Kaliphornika, he treated them brutally.

No matter, Masséna wouldn’t be around while we were doing the two week instructors’ course, and I doubted he would take too much interest in Continuation Training instruction. He appeared a self-opinionated, self-centred, sort of person who would spend most of his time brown nosing senior officers, no doubt one reason why despite having only joined the Legion barely a month ago he was a company commander while only holding the rank of Lieutenant.

We aspiring instructors had full days. Lectures and class room practices were interposed with route marches and general keeping fit activities. All aspirants were Sergents and would be promoted to Sergent-chef if successful on the course. The one big advantage of the instructors’ course was that we did no duties. When lessons finished for the day at 1700 hours we were free until the following morning at 0630. This allowed those with girlfriends living locally to enjoy the comforts of home, while those of us without girlfriends had to search out our own comfort of home. Many went to Carcassonne, only 25 km away, but I remained in Castelnaudary and visited those bars I knew tourists and local young females frequented. As luck, or fate, would have it, the first bar I entered I met Chloe Roubaix, laboratory technician and former bed companion. It had been a surprise to us both but Chloe was the first to react, throwing herself into my arms and covering my face with kisses.

“I thought you would be married to your boss by now,” I said as we sat at a table holding hands after an intense interlude of tongue sucking. It was a wonder no one threw a bucket of water over us!

“He was a Mummy’s boy. After being with legionnaires I wanted a real man not a mummy’s boy.”

’More fool him’, I thought as she hurried me to her house in Chemin des Carriers. Fifteen minutes later we were coupled in a sweaty love knot in her bed, taking up where we had left off two months previously. Engaging in energetic, lust driven sex; with multiple orgasms for her, and genitals covered in love bites for me. I had landed in clover. Sweet smelling, lip locked, clinging, clutching, sucking vaginaed, erect nippled, clover!

Over the next two weeks Chloe and I shagged each other’s brains out most nights but even so, with my chin practically dragging on the floor in exhaustion, I sailed through the instructors’ course and passed within the top five. I was duly promoted sergent-chef and celebrated by taking Chloe on ‘a trip around the world;’ something Chloe had not experienced until then, or so she said. By the end of the night she was an avid world trotting tourist. I seriously contemplated moving in with her and sleeping off camp — instructional staff had a lot more latitude than personnel in combat companies — when my plans were altered. In fact, the rest of my life was altered.

The standard infantryman’s weapon of the French Army and Foreign Legion for many years had been the MAS 49/56 rifle. In the late 1970’s the French Army re-equipped with the FAMAS (Fusil d’Assaut de la Manufacture d’Armes de Saint-Étienne – Assault rifle of the Weapons factory of Saint-Étienne), known as le Clarion (the Bugle) due to its shape. The Legion, old fashioned and averse to change, continued to use the MAS 49/56. However, a few weeks before I joined the Instructors course at Castelnaudary the powers-that-be decided in their wisdom the Legion would re-equip with the FAMAS. The Legion’s ‘teeth’ units, i.e., Infantry, cavalry, and artillery regiments, would have in house training by their own staff but Legion engineering, administrative, and signal units would be trained by the Instructional Regiment. Because of the numbers of personnel involved, Lapasset barracks in Castelnaudary was considered too small and instruction was to be carried out at Camp du Larzac with its recently renovated accommodation and new, state of the art, rifle range. And who better to train the Legion in the new weapon but the twenty newly minted instructors, me being one of them? It was thought six weeks would be time enough to train all the Legion’s engineering, administration, and signals units in the use of the weapon. However, before we newbie instructors could instruct, we needed to be instructed! A dozen sergent chefs from the 1^st Regiment of Tirailleurs descended on Castelnaudary. After three days of their intensive training in stripping, re-assembling, firing, and cleaning the FAMAS, they deemed us competent to pass on our knowledge of the new weapon.

We were paraded at noon and informed we were to leave for Camp du Larzac at 0800 the following morning. It could be many weeks before I would be enjoying carnal relations with Chloe so I made a bee line to her house in Chemin des Carriers as soon as being dismissed from parade. We didn’t waste time undressing and going to bed but ripped each other’s clothing off and fornicated in the lounge, first on the sofa, then having a table ender, and then on the luxury, deep pile, Lurex rug. By evening both of us were flagging and my neck and chest were covered in love bites As we lay together, breathing heavily and regaining our strength for a final fling, I noticed a silver framed photograph on the mantel shelf above the fire place. The photograph was of two young women in their early twenties, one I recognised as Chloe and the other was a well-endowed blonde haired girl. They had an arm around each other’s waists; whereas Chloe was smiling into camera the blonde girl was gazing at her as if Chloe was a scrumptious éclair she was about to gobble up.

“Who is the blonde in the photo?” I asked.

Chloe lifted her head from my chest and looked towards the photograph. “That’s my best friend, Amy. We met at Toulouse University. She is now an attorney in Carcassonne but often visits me here in Castelnaudary. Why do you ask; do you fancy her?”

“She’s quite fanciable, but I fancy you more.”

“That’s just as well because Amy is a lesbian.”

“Did you and she ever get it on together?” My question may have been impertinent, but by the way the blonde was looking at Chloe I think it was a question that needed asking.

Chloe punched me lightly on my arm and chuckled. “Men! You get turned on by the thought of two women kissing and eating each other out but if two men were doing the same sort of thing you’d be disgusted.” She then changed the subject. “How long are you going to be away?”

I shrugged. “It could be up to six weeks but I should get some time off and Camp du Larzac is not that far from Castelnaudary, I could hire a car and be here in a couple of hours.”

“Make sure you ring before you make the journey. I have a lot of night shifts to make up thanks to you.” She sugared her remark with a sweet kiss that led to a final carnal coupling on the Lurex rug before I made my weary, scored back, way back to barracks.

It was only when passing the guard room I realised Chloe hadn’t answered my question regarding the relationship between her and Amy.

The FAMAS has a peculiarity not found in most or many other automatic rifles. The firer can select single shots, three-round bursts, or full-automatic fire; the three-round burst mechanism is separate from the rest of the trigger group so that should it fail the single shot and fully automatic options are still available. This means that there have to be two separate controls: one for single shot/automatic fire selection and one for burst selection, but we had been warned by the sergent chefs of 1^st Tirailleurs of the feature and that careful training would avoid any problems.

The men to be trained in handling the FAMAS were split into batches of 200, giving a class of ten men per instructor and it took three days to cover the stripping /reassembling, firing, and then cleaning the weapon, with particular emphasis being focused on fire selection before and during live firing. Each instructor processed two classes of trainees per week and was given the seventh day off, Sunday being a day of rest.

I had already checked there was a car rental firm in La Cavalerie, the nearest town to Camp du Larzac, and after work on the first Saturday of the deployment I rang Chloe. The phone rang for some considerable time and I was about to hang up when she picked up the phone.

“Hello?” she said in a breathless voice.

“Hi, it’s Philippe. You sound out of breath, have you been running?”

“Yeah, I’ve just this minute got in from my daily run.” Chloe was a dedicated runner and we often went running together in the hills surrounding Castelnaudary. I was surprised she had gone for run on a Saturday afternoon as she usually kept the day free for shopping, meeting her friends, hair appointments, and other girly things.

“I can be with you tomorrow at about ten am, there’s a car rental and...”

“I’m sorry Philippe but I have a twelve hour shift starting at eight a.m. tomorrow.”

I masked my disappointment. “Oh well, duty comes before pleasure, and I will have next Sunday off so we can...”

“Next weekend I’m on a course in Toulouse. But I should be okay for the following Sunday.”

“Bugger this, Chloe; I’m not good with long distance relationships.”

“Neither am I, cherie, but we will just have to grin and bear it. Look, I’ve got a load of things to do before work tomorrow so ring me sometime during the week and we can talk then.”

“I want more than talk, Chloe.”

“So do I, Philippe. So do I.”

We said goodbye and I wondered what to do with my free Sunday. Then I remembered Montpellier was only an hour’s drive down the A75, and Dido’s Palace would be stocked with available young women. I had not made any commitment to Chloe to be female free while away as I had intended to be with her whenever possible. Thus I would not be cheating on her if I should pick up a willing woman for the night. I would seek out Hans Krause; he could be my chauffeur and save me the price of a car rental.

A knee trembler in an alley is no substitute for what I had been experiencing with Chloe, but beggars can’t be choosers and half a loaf is better than no bread at all. I don’t recall the name of the girl squirming on the end of my penis as I rammed into her, but her tongue was flavoured by the absinthe she’d consumed; a taste I detest. What really brought home my lack of a more permanent squeeze was that Hans stayed overnight with Elissa as he was off duty for two days and I had to pay for a taxi back to camp.