Life in the French Foreign Legion can be described in one word, tough! In particular if you happen to be part of the elite world that is the 2eme Regiment Etranger de Parachutites.
At the beginning of January 1985, my company were on the move again. The 1st Company specialize in commando Warfare and like everything else in the Legion that means some serious training. The expression, 'no pain - no gain', must have originated in the Legion.
We headed off to mainland France for a training course at France's number one commando training center, 'Le Centre National d'Entrainement Commando'.
Our first week was spent at the town of Collioure which is on the Mediterranian coast near the frontiere with Spain. It is a town that has been the subject of many a painting with its imposing fort perched on the cliffs overlooking the port.
The French Army use the old fort as a confidence building center before you progress onto the real thing at the commando training centre high in the Pyrenees Mountains at Mont Louis.
At Collioure there are walls to climb, moats to cross, jumps from high walls to low walls with a hundred and twenty foot drop on the other side to the waves crashing onto the rocks below. o There were roofs to cross and windows to abseil into.o At the beginning of the week everyone was nervous and were attacking the obstacles with caution and t walking pace.
Security harnesses were worn at all times and anyone taking unnecessary risks was punished. o Anyone thought to be acting reckless found themselves off the course and working in the kitchens. o Obstacles which seemed to be high and dangerous at the beginning of the week, were now being taken at the run against the clock, which was exactly what was meant to happen.
This was just a foretaste of what was in store for us when we moved up to the No.1 Commando Training Centre at Mont Louis. The real Macoy.
The drive up through the Pyrenees was breathtaking as you passed through some of the most beautiful countryside in Europe. After the relatively mild climate of Corsica and the Mediterranien coast, we quickly found ourselves at two thousand metres above sea level and well above the snow line. Mont Louis is the highest town in France and the ancient fort dates back to the sixteen hundreds. Very impressive.
All of this set against a background of snow covered intimidating mountains,
forests, lakes and very very cold
weather. It was freezing. A brass monkey wouldn't have lasted five minutes.