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The Foreign Legion, Apaches, & Combat Migrations, Part 1 by Mark Hatmaker

 


Buckle up, Crew as we take a deep multi-part dive into the world of combat archeology and get into tough men from many nations and many tribes, glimpse an environment so raw and unforgiving it tested the spirit of the toughest, and get into the curious cross-pollinations that seem to show that much of what was truly vicious in unarmed combat and blade combat may not have its origins where we have so long assumed.

Along the way tactics will be hinted at but not described in detail—that will be privy to The Black Box Subscription Service. A lot of work has gone into this sojourn and the vicious fruits of it has toppled much of what I “thought” I knew about blade and some aspects of low-line combat. After putting these unearthings through the paces, I must say, what I formerly thought in those areas was mere filigree and deserving of burial. Brutal, vicious, and effective. Nothing “Continental” about it.

A few hints of things to come…

·        “Apaches” in Paris

·        Why was the Charles Bronson film “Hard Times” set in Louisiana

·        Low-kicking Texas Rangers long before Walker.

·        Was Savate a Marseilles import from the Far East travelling via French sailors or something a bit more complex, elusive, and cleaned up?

·        And…well, much more.

We shall begin by spending a bit of time with The French Foreign Legion.

Their fighting prowess is not in dispute, nor is their warrior spirit.

We look to the Legion during one of the bleakest chapters in their history and this will reveal a good deal about combat cross-pollination.

To establish the Legion’s “Do or Die!” bona fides, ponder this motto that was painted on the barracks wall of 18th-century Legionnaires.

“Legionnaires, you are soldiers in order to die, and I am sending you where you can die.”

Not much encouragement there, huh?

The Legion more than made up for that reputation through many a land and many a campaign, but there was one that tested all their wherewithal.

From 1863-1867 the Legion was sent to Mexico as part of an impetuous scheme of Napoleon III.

It is here that the Legion faced what it considers its defining moment, the Siege in Camerone, Mexico in April of 1863. This was a standoff between a small cadre of Legionnaires and a much larger Mexican force. It is, in essence, the Legion’s Alamo.

A sergent-chef named LaBella expressed the importance of Camerone thusly:

"The appeal of Camerone to a legionnaire is as natural as instinct. He reaches out to it in his own heart, because it is part of his own pain. It is the great reminder to the legionnaire that the sand is always blowing in his eyes, the battleground is always ill-chosen, the odds too great, the cause insufficient to justify his death, and the tools at hand always the wrong ones. And, above all, nobody cares whether he wins or loses, lives or dies. Camerone gives the legionnaire strength to live with his despair. It reminds him that he cannot win, but it makes him feel that there is dignity in being a loser."—Voices of the Foreign Legion Adrian D. Gilbert

There is, of course, more to the Mexican adventure for the Legion than this noble defeat. Many a battle, many an experience providing some curious shaping forces to the student of history and in particular the student of combat.

More than a few Legionnaires’ journals state that corps à corps (unarmed combat) was raised to a new brutal level in the New World, South of the Border.

Before we step foot on land, let us look at what the Legion viewed from the decks of their arriving ships. [The following is from the journal of Charles Zede.]

“A muddy coast devoid of vegetation signposted with the carcasses of wrecked ships. On our right a small island upon which sat the dilapidated fortress of San Juan de Ulla; on the left the Isla de los Sacfrificios, absolutely arid, but covered by a multitude of crosses indicating the graves of our sailors, victims of the insalubrious climate.”

Others noted the “place reeked of death” others the sky was filled with vultures and the sea with sharks clearly visible shadowing the vessel’s arrival.



“On land and on sea, these disgusting animals seemed to stalk you like a prey.”

The view ashore was not esteemed either. Veracruz, at the time, was foreboding.

Legionnaire Diesbach de Torny called it “depressing and dead. Wide streets with grass growing in them and few inhabitants.”

It was said the only amusement was to watch the “incredibly voracious vultures eat the rubbish that was thrown out into the streets or feed on the carcasses of animals, and even men, that were found floating in the harbor each morning.”

That was what greeted these venturesome men.

Worse was to come.

Much worse.

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