The Men Who Fight For France

New Zealand Listener, Volume 6, Issue 134, 16 January 1942, Page 8

The Men Who Fight For France

(Written for "The Listener" by

MIDEASTER

HE other day in London’s Albert Hall, the voice of General de Gaulle rang out again, this time vith new hope after nearly eighteen months of battling for Free France: "From a handful of men we have become an unshakeable mass. We have restored the bond of unity to an imprisoned nation, with a will to resist, a will for vengeance and a will to regain her territory." But what of this " unshakeable mass " of Frenchmen who fight on-what manner of men are they? What do they think of this tremendous responsibility thfust on them by the Old Men of Vichy and their disgusting horde of overlords? We have heard of their sweep through yria, their defeat of the Axis on the road to Damascus. During the past few weeks I have had the chance of meeting many of these men — aviators, tank corps, cavalry, and plain infantry-down in Cairo for a variety of reasons, from convalescent leave to special missions.

A favourite meeting place for them is u certain small but comfortable cafe and pension in Heliopolis, Cairo’s residential suburb. Here they are provided free of charge with beds, breakfasts, theatre tickets, and what means more even than these-endless discussions over glasses of vermouth and vin ordinaire in which the constantly reiterated theme is, " When we get back to France," "When I’m home once more in Lille" (or Nancy or Boulogne or Toulouse). : In a Cafe I went to this cafe the other evening with a young French sergeant in the tank corps, Jean L---, down in Cairo on a special mission with his commanding officer. On the sleeve of his tunic he wore two silver chevrons, inverted the opposite way to the New Zealand corporal’s, signifying a year’s service with the Free French. Over his left tunic pocket was a red and white medal ribbon, with a star in the centre-the Croix de Guerre with star, Despite the

fact that he had fought in the gallant rearguard fight on the Dunkirk perimeter defences, had been badly wounded there and in consequence had spent three months in St. Albans hospital in England before being able to join the de Gaulle forces, he confessed, "I am becoming bored-all of us are a little-in Syria: Damascus is a miserable hole and there is nothing to do there at night; what we want most is to be able to join in the great fight that is beginning in the desert." I asked about his family-yes, they were still in France. Unoccupied France. "Well, that’s not so bad," I murmured in sympathy. "Isn’t it?" he asked. His eyes were smiling but hard. They have no illusions about Vichy and the DarlanLaval gang, these Free Frenchmen. »They know that in the country they hope to save from herself-béth occupied and unoccupied — there is the tyranny of complete totalitarianism everywhere now. Petain can expect no more concessions than the hated Boche when the banners of the Cross of Lorraine go forward on French soil. A Birthday We had a merry time that night, in the dim-lit cafe in Heliopolis, presiaed over by a genial M. Arevian, an Armenian who served throughout 1914-18 with the

Foreign Legion. One of the Frenchmen, an aviator, was celebrating his twentyfirst birthday. He had joined the forces when he was eighteen. His family, living near Lyons, were orchardists. When he escaped fron® Marseilles to join the Free French, his father tried to come too, but was stopped at the port. He had learnt since that his father was in prison. It was depressing to think that he should be celebrating his official entry into manhood out here while his family were, literally, under the heel of the enemy. I asked him what he wanted to do when the war was over. His eyes shone, For him no grandiose ambitions. "I shall go, back to Lyons," he said, "and I ‘shall grow flowers and fruit; I shall have a beautiful orchard. You would like Lyons, it is a gay town, especially in summer. But if you suffer from colds don’t come in winter, for then mists rise from the Rhéne and the Sadéne, our two rivers, and it is very damp and cold." But I could see that for him even the mists of winter were beautiful. He wanted to go back to the peace of flowers and fruit; but meanwhile, while this article is being written, he flies his "plane on patrol acress the sandy vastness of Syria, waiting and watching always for (Continued on next page)

(Continued from previous page) the enemy who has taken these things away from him. With him in Syria and elsewhere, on land, in the Free French Air Squadrons, and at sea, fight Frenchmen from Paris and the provinces, with a vast number who have never seen "home" — from Brazzaville, Beirut, Damascus, Pondicherry, Chad, Nouméa, Tahiti. All of them watch the newest great struggle in Libya, for they know as we do that it may -be one of the decisive British operations since the beginning of the war. Our party pursued its merry way till midnight. Then the barman began to yawn a little and significantly re-arrange his battery of bottles. Jean rose to his feet. " The toast is Free France," he said. Solemnly we drank.