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Front cover: Harry Luyckx Légion d'honneur Sergeant Malicien Matricule 107.954 fought in the French Foreign Legion Algeria Back Cover: Because there was in 1954 not a job available on a freighter, Lucky signed up in the French Foreign Legion. A choice he immediately did regret and at the first opportunity he tried to desert. He got caught and was send to Algeria, a country in crisis. In Légion d‟Honneur we follow the life of Lucky, his training in the Legion, the confrontations with The rebels, the inhumanity of the war and His will to survive. In Légion d‟Honneur we follow a story of shocking and disturbing events, about the powerlessness of the individual among cruel and fanatic men, but also of solidarity and camaraderie and honour. The Flemish Harry Luyckx experienced all this and wrote his story honest and true. All names of persons have been changed to protect their identity and that of their family. Contents Page Chapter 1 7 August - November 1954 Getting acquainted with the French Foreign Legion Chapter 2 17 August - November 1954 The way to freedom Chapter 3 41 December 1954 - January 1955 Morocco Chapter 4 51 Same period Sidi-Bel-Abbes Chapter 5 68 Period February - May 1955 Mascara Chapter 6 129 Period June - September 1955 To the Mother city of the Legion Chapter 7 151 Period October 1955 - May 1956 The new Unit Chapter 8 167 Period June - September 1956 The 2e company Saharienne Portée of the Legion Etrangère in Laghouat Chapter 9 182 Period October 1956 - May 1959 The 2e Regiment Etranger de Parachutistes Chapter 10 188 Period October November 1956. A step higher on the ladder Chapter 11 196 Period November 1956 - December 1958. Finally in action Chapter 12 216 period January 1958 - December 1958 At the rebels Chapter 13 244 November 1958 - May 1959 Lead in the shoes Chapter 14 252 Operation Edough Page 6 Chapter 1 August - November 1954 Getting acquainted with the French Foreign Legion *„Hasst du vielleicht eine Zigarette? ' I looked up surprised, I was leaning on the railing, which had been installed around the fishing port of Marseille, and I was busy observing the incoming and outgoing of sailing boats. Beside me stood a tall young man, almost as old as myself, he had raven black hair and was a bit gawky. His German was very bad, but nevertheless I gave him a cigarette. The guy inhaled deeply a couple of times while staring into the water. I said nothing. My eyes followed a small fishing boat that sputtering left the port. After a while the young guy asked, „where do you come from? I turned my head to him and looked at him from head to toe. He then said, my name is Mirko, I am a Yugoslav and I came on my bicycle from Zagreb. Why in God‟s name would anyone come on a bicycle all the way from Yugoslavia to Marseille? I thought, but on the other hand, why would anyone hitchhike from Belgium to Marseille. I realized that I was just as nuts as the guy besides me, He probably had just as much of a good reason to travel this far. Or maybe he did not. My name is Lucky and I am a Belgian, I heard myself saying, but I had to repeat myself three times before the Yugoslav understood where I came from. I found it weird that a total stranger would come up to me and ask where I came from, or was it so obvious that I was not French? *Bisshen spazieren ja? I still did not know what the guy wanted from me, but I agreed shrugging my shoulders. I thought if he is as bad off as I am, we could form a fine pair. I had not much more than a pack of cigarettes and a couple of hundred francs to my name. Shortly before, I was a conscript in the Belgian army and had deserted, for fear of getting hauled in front of a court-martial I escaped to Marseille with the intention to sign up on a Swedish ship and start a new life. * do you have a cigarette? * A little sightseeing huh? Page 7 At the Swedish consulate which also serves as an office to hire sailors, I had been given the understanding that in the next three weeks there was only one ship expected. Even at that, there was the question if they needed another crew member. As such, I was stranded in Marseille and got the company of another lost soul. We walked along the harbour in an Easterly direction and soon we saw the looming mass of the fort. When we approached the entrance gate, we noticed the guard with his white kepi, blue waist band and the green and red epaulettes. Above the gate in the form of an arc were in green paint, the words “Legion Etrangère” I knew already that this was the notorious French Foreign Legion and paid no more attention to it. We followed the wall along the fort and passed a hospital that was located at the end of the street in a nice and well maintained park. Then we followed a wall that hid a large part of the hospital from view, the right side of the street ended in a rock wall. The street made a sharp turn to the left, but a small lane went straight down to the beach. It was a beach with boulders, but that did not deter us from wading in the water. We did not exchange many words, but after we sat down between the boulders and smoked some cigarettes, Mirko started to relate his story about his bicycle trip to Marseille in great detail. I had difficulty to follow his monologue, but let him go on. I was not really interested anyway. This time of the year it was possible to sleep out in the open air, and that is what we did. The following morning we were awakened by the blazing sun. After we had washed ourselves with the salt water and dried by the air, we started to move towards the town. Mirko said why don‟t we go and have a look at the French Foreign Legion? Because I had no idea what to do at this time, I thought it was not a bad idea and we could always take off again. Where else could I go? The closer we got to the gate of Fort Saint Nicolas, the slower we walked. We did not realize that the guard at the gate was beckoning with his head, obviously he had seen more young men wanting to join the Legion, not realizing what was in store for them. However, we did not think about this at that moment. The moment that we entered the gate, I remembered having read about “Beau Geste”, the 1924 adventure romance novel by P.C Wren which was later made into a movie with Garry Cooper in the title role, but the misadventures of those people did not convince me to backtrack and turn around. Page 8 A soldier with two gold stripes on his sleeves approached us with a pleasant expression on his face and asked *„Les messieurs désirent?‟ it was the standard greeting at Fort Saint Nicolas, one of the recruitment centers of the French Foreign Legion. Mirko and I were led by the sergeant to the right of the entrance gate, to a one story building; we entered the building through a double door into a wide hallway which had only doors on the one side of the hallway and windows at the other side. The sergeant indicated that I had to wait there and disappeared with Mirko into a small office. On the side of the windows there were some small palm trees planted in wooden flower boxes. I thought this would be a perfect place to get rid of my identity papers and along with that, my past. I remembered stories from people who had landed in the French Foreign Legion without name or nationality and could take without any problems a new identity. Carefully I dug a hole and dropped the papers from the Belgian occupation army in Germany, my Belgian identity card and several sailor log books from the Swedish Merchant Navy into the hole and covered the hole with dirt. I just had wiped my hands on the curtains and lit a cigarette when the door of the office opened and Mirko appeared. Behind Mirko came the sergeant and told me to enter the office. I saw the displeased expression on Mirko‟s face, but did not have the opportunity to exchange any words with him. At the desk sat a middle aged man with an gold bar on each shoulder. Later I found out that it the rank of adjutant was. *'Videz vos poches et mettez Ie contenu sur le bureau!' he said in harsh voice. I emptied my pockets and laid the contents on the table. After that, the sergeant who had stood behind me all this time made a step forward and patted me down to check if I had taken everything out my pockets. When he did not find anything else, he went to help his superior with sorting out my meager possessions. * What do you men want? * empty your pockets and put it on the desk Page 9 I got everything back except for a small pocket knife. The two men were very surprised that they could not find any documents on me, when they asked about it, I said that my papers were stolen while I slept the previous night.

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