大象传媒

French Foreign Legion 1939/40
"IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF BEAU GESTE"

(This story is an extract from my full life story on www.conradsinger.info where you can read about my exploits in the Romanian Army and the International Brigade where I saw much action in Spain and was lucky to survive.)

(...after defeat in Spain...)
I made my way to the French Army Depot, near Lyon. After a couple of days attached to the 11th Foreign Regiment, at Valbone, I joined the Compagnie de Commandement, a small group of N.C.O.s, comprising former members of the French Foreign Legion. They were concerned at all times to promote a sense of comradeship. My loneliness was eased by their companionship and the hospitality of their families.

Life was tolerable until a few weeks later when officers of the French Intelligence Service came to interrogate me. I was photographed with a number blazed across my chest. I resented the treatment and complained to the Captain. The response was to post us to Algeria and the Foreign Legion. However, this mean spirited action was to save my life. In the Nazi advance through France, that autumn, it was the brave regiments of the Volontiers Etrangers who resisted the onslaught. Receiving no quarter from the German invaders, they were decimated.

We embarked in the packet boat 鈥淟a Patrie鈥� and what a splendid free cruise we were to enjoy. We each had our own luxurious cabin and the kitchens were staffed with chefs who really knew their chosen career. Soon, we were in North Africa and training in Algeria at Sidi Bel Abas. This proved to be a depot where severe training was the rule. Many Jews had joined up as refugees after fleeing Hitler鈥檚 Germany. Frenchmen were admitted to the ranks only after they had given up their citizenship. We had to forget about the outside world. The regime was designed to make or break us. There was the infamous routine of the 鈥減ied de chalet鈥� where we had to make up our beds in a specified fashion. Above our heads were racks on which the backpack was placed. Everything had to be packed to form a perfect square. Or else!!! I managed to avoid the harder punishments that the Legion was prone to dish out and even received a gift or two from the French Resistance who must have been sympathetic over my plight, and letters from my friends near Pepignan; I didn鈥檛 feel so alone. After training was complete we returned to Sidi Belab and entered its gates with Tricolor flying, marching the Legion鈥檚 traditional slow march to the tune of 鈥淭iens, voila le boudin鈥�, and proudly wearing the white couvre attached to our kepi to signify we were fully trained.

After Algiers I was stationed with the 3rd regiment at Fez, Morocco. Then, after France fell to the nazis in June 1940, on the orders of Marshall Peters, we were summarily discharged from the Foreign Legion and instead of freedom, we were to be interned by the French at a camp near Boubouda on the outskirts of the Saraha.

By now the weather had worsened as winter 1940 began. After a horrendous march thru鈥� heavy rain, sleet and snow for part of the way, finally we completed our journey to Begwent in goods wagons running on the Trans Saharan Railway.

Begwent turned out to be pleasant enough with a small Jewish minority who were friendly to former combatants. Here I remained for over 2 years, befriending some of local families and working, involuntarily, on extending the Trans Saharan railway over the Atlas mountains. The work camps were short of water and conditions diabolical with dysentery, jaundice and typhus being rampant. Somehow I survived. Another bit of luck.

Eventually I ended up, with 2 other Jewish guys from the Begwent camp, working down a mine for the last nine months of my stay in the Sahara. Again I survived the dangerous and harsh conditions.

The BRITISH ARMY 1943/46

The British arrived in northern Africa during January 鈥�43 and decreed citizens of their allies could go to England and volunteer for the British or Polish armies. I was put on a convoy and arrived in Glasgow around February 鈥�43. I found myself whisked off to another internment camp (again) because I was Romanian. This time it was the Chelsea Oratory School in London that was used as the camp. Recruiting officers visited all internment camps and soon I found I had volunteered for training in the Pioneer Corps of the British army.
Initially I was stationed on a training course for Artillery. Many months later, for some reason I鈥檒l never know, I was sent on a 1 year training course for the Signals regiment based near Wakefield.
After this course was complete around early 鈥�44 they decided my English wasn鈥檛 good enough to be sent on active duties, so they put me on an Anti-tank course near Leeds. By the time this course was nearing completion in was 1945 and the war as over.

By sheer luck, mismanagement, call it what you will, I was lucky once again and was never sent to fight by the British Army and, compared to my previous three army experiences, my time in the British Army was like a holiday camp to me.

I was de-mobbed in late 鈥�46 and went to search for a job. At first I searched for work in London.

After no success I went to some friends in Newcastle-upon-Tyne who thought they could find me a job. This was no good, so I tried looking for work in Leeds where I found work a Woollen Mill. This was low paid and tough so I moved to Manchester and found work as a galley boy.

After a few months my friends from Newcastle introduced me to the girl who was to become my wife, so I moved back to Newcastle-upon-Tyne.

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