I am alive and well. I have returned with the rest of my section (platoon) from basic training on the "farm" about two weeks ago, and thus I am back in Castelnaudary for now.  We are now free to write/call home (surprisingly), and having some spare time this Saturday afternoon I thought I might write a few paragraphs to let you know all how now I am going. I'll attempt to call Australia later in the evening when we're allowed to use the phones here.
   As I already said I'm doing extremely well here. Physically I'm in excellent condition, though I have lost a few kilos in weight because of the reduced calorie diet they have us on, and due to the nature of the training program. I also have a permanent No 0 military haircut, like every other legionnaire. So I look like a skinhead, but that is the only outward change from my civilian self. I have no tattoos, scars or body piercing, I am sure you'll be glad to know. I am also one of the very few people to go through training without needing a single consultation with with the doctor due to illness and/or injury. So, please rest assured that I am looking after myself and that I am as fit as a fiddle.

   Now I feel I should let you all know what I've been up to here, since arriving in France. I arrived in Marseille on the on the 18th June (Tuesday) morning. There was a slight delay/problem in Paris, because the flight was a little late and the queue at customs was terrible. Thus I missed my connecting Paris - Marseille flight. But the Air France stuff was very helpful and gave me a seat in the next available flight in addition to free breakfast in one of the many snack bars at Paris airport. So I arrived in Marseille on Tuesday midday, taking a taxi to the city centre. The weather was beautiful and so was the European/Mediterranean environment. I arranged to stay one night in one of the many hotels in Marseille and it was from there that I called and wrote the letters home. On Wednesday morning (19th) I packed my bags and set off on foot towards the "Malmousque" where the Foreign Legion has a recruitment centre. Roughly at noon I rang the bell at the main gate, and, waiting for the sentry to arrive I quietly stood there and wondered what adventures lie ahead. Soon enough an older officer appeared and approached me. I looked him in the eye and blasted out in pigeon French: "Je suis Australian. Je suis a volontarie pour la legion Etrangere." He opened the gate, letting me inside. At that moment my civilian life essentially ceased for 5 years. 
   Then the paperwork started. Immediately my passport and all ID was taken from me as well as all my cash and traveler's cheques. All was extremely well  documented. I was given a new name, a new birth-date and new places of birth and residence. Your names (parents) have also been altered. I wanted an English version of my name, but instead I was given a terrible Polish name; the surname isn't too bad, but my first name is even more tongue-twister than Zdenek. I hate it and at the first opportunity (after 1 year of service) I'm returning back to my civilian name. I have no reason to be anonymous anyway, it's not  like I need to hide my true identity.
   That same day I was taken to the main Legion Entrangere (LE) Headquarters at Aubagne. All my possessions were taken from me. They left me with only the bare essentials - shaving cream, my Mach 3 razor, shampoo, toothbrush, toothpaste, my Nike runners and dad's Tissot watch. Oh, they also let me keep the French phrasebook that A. bought me. All the rest was locked away deep down in the Augbane "magasin" clearly labeled with my real name, but who knows when it'll see the light of day again.
  Life in Augbane was interesting, if somewhat hectic. All outside contact was forbidden, to the point of banning all pens and blank paper. I managed to scrounge a pen one day when cleaning one of the many offices and used it to to write the message on a 20 Euro note that I sent to A. via another Aussie that passed through and was rejected for the Legion. Hopefully she got the note OK. I spent two weeks in Augbane in general population, with the rest of the potential recruits. There were people from all walks of life, and all nationalities. The vastly prevalent backgrounds were/are the former Eastern Block countries, mainly Rumania, Russia, Poland, Hungary and so on. There were quite a few Czechs and Slovaks with whom I frequently mixed. The least represented background were the "anglo-phones", or English speaking folk. So, sadly, I have little opportunity to converse with someone in English about Western culture. But on the other hand perhaps  it's a blessing in disguise as it forces me to speak French.
   The two weeks that I spent in general population consisted of psych. tests, physical tests and general interviews. I passed all, and at the risk of sounding arrogant, I was told I performed well above average in all. I was somewhat of a novelty, because Australians are very few and far between in the Legion.
  The third and ultimate week in Augbane I spent as a "rouge": recruits selected for training as Legionnaires. Of the 400 or so potential recruits that pass through Augbane only 17-20 are selected for "rouge". The week is spent preparing for basic training - I was issued with my camouflage uniform and green Legionnaire beret and I was also given back some of my civilian personal affairs. The swiss army knife that you gave me for Christmas, the photo of Mates that A. took, the three black and white photos - both photos of me and A. and the quick note that she wrote in the back of the lonely-planet-guide (that I ripped out) are some of the possessions that I hold closest to me at all times. They are the only mementos I have left of Australia.
   I signed my final binding contract for 5 years of service in the Legion on the first Thursday in July (the exact date escapes me). On the Friday, me and 18 other "engage volontaires" left Augbane for Castelnaudary, to receive our basic training. We took the train, each of us clad in military outfits and carrying a heavy backpack and "sac-marin" in hand. Mixing with the civilians for three hours we cruised along the lovely picturesque French countryside. I felt both extreme happiness at being accepted as a Legionnaire as well as anxiety at what the training will be like. I braced myself for the worst, expecting to be treated like animals.
   The Castelnaudary complex is is very extensive and relatively new. It is the home of the 4e Regiment Entrangere tasked with molding new recruits into Legionnaires (and, later on, into sous-officers or non-commissioned officers). Everything is spotless, from the rosebushes that line the pathways to the very last toilet block It is a beehive of activity, and a major nerve centre of the French Foreign Legion . The barracks themselves are very neat, with not a single bunk bed in sight. There are six or seven people in per room, each room having a single bathroom with washbasins and a shower. Each recruit/legionnaire is provided with a generously sized bed and locker, albeit everything must be neatly arranged at all times. All clothing must be folded precisely to measure 30 cm across and to show the Legion and/or Regiment logo when placed in the locket. The beds also must be spotless and perfectly arranged at all times . Mum, I can't Thank you enough for making me make my bed each day and for making me clean my room, for each and every Legionnaire is rigorously taught how to handle a broom and mop before being taught how to handle a FAMAS.,
   We waited in Castel for one week for one more "rouge" unit to arrive from Augbane to join our unit. The two "rouge" units combined make a "section" or platoon of roughly 35 men. The section, once complete, is then sent to the "farm" for four weeks to receive the training proper. At that stage we were all still "engage volontaire", without a military rank. Our section left Castel for the farm on the 20th of July, again each of us full of anticipation as to what the training will be like - we all told of how difficult the life in the farm is.
   The primary aim of the training on the farm is three-fold. Firstly, it is to condition the recruit physically able to carry out his duties as a soldier. Secondly, it is to teach him French. And third it is to make him aware of the Legion traditions and what life in the Legion entails. Learning how to use and maintain a FAMAS is also taught at the farm, but never with real bullets.
   As I said, I expected the discipline and physical  training to be harsh at the very least. I expected the corporals and sergeants to shout and scream and hit us at every occasion. The reality turned out to be quite different. The Legion operates on the basis of a large family, and we were told many times that the recruits legionnaires and higher ranks are all friends. And it really is so. Of course, there is discipline, and you must follow orders and do exactly as they say, but aside from that one is free to talk to the "carporaux" or "sous-officers" (NCOs), like with friends: something which would be considered flagrant fraternization in say the Australian Army. Having said that though, there were instances where the old style Legion discipline reared its head. One day, one of the Germans forgot to shave in the morning and our Chef de Section, Adjudant or Warrant Officer of the second highest rank, noticed it during our French Class. The adjudant, an older legionnaire of many years of service and with deeply rooted traditional Legion principles, told the German to stand up, and taking a cigarette lighter, he slowly begun to pass it, lit of course, under and around German's face trying to burn the stubble off. Needles to say, we all shave with world class precision  each and every morning ever since. But disciplinary measures like that were truly rare, with the punishment of choice being the classic military pushups ("pompes").

   The physical training consisted of long distance running (in French "footing") and "PC - Parcours de Combatant" or Combat obstacle Course. For me, the physical exercise was not too difficult. Sure, there were many times when we were all pushed to our limits, but overall I must say that the basic Foreign Legion physical training is not difficult. Of course, with these words I think of the instructors at the Nuna gym, in particular Craig N. for without their help I don't think I could've survived here, and I'm grateful for every second I spent training in the gym. A., when you read and when you see C. at the gym, tell him he that he should expect a postcard from Calvi, Corsica (the base of the 2e REP) in about 2 month time.
    We were taught how to march, in in the traditional Legion pace of 88 paces per minute - very slow compared to other armies and quite difficult to master. Even more when you have to sing along while marching. And boy, did we sing! One of the oldest Legion traditions is the singing and the songs, and each new Legionnaire is taught how to properly sing all the classic Legion songs. They are all sung with a very deep bass voice and a very slow tempo (to march along to) in French, of course. I am now an expert singer of such Legion classic as "Le Boudin", "En Algerie" and "Kepis Blancs". In the Legion it is a must that while marching, a unit has to sing. It is actually quite an impressive sight - 40 or so perfectly aligned soldiers marching together and singing along as a utmost precision and meticulous timing...
   The rest of the training consisted of standard army stuff: orienteering, camouflage, bivouac, how to ambush, how to defeat an ambush, appreciation at one's environment, NBC (Nuclear Biological Chemical) threats and protective measures and so on. And of course learning how to handle the standard arm of the French Armed Forces - the FAMAS. I have no point of reference when it comes to comparing firearms, but I must say that the FAMAS is surprisingly easy to handle, being evidently well designed all round. An extraordinarily helpful feature of the FAMAS is the inbuilt bipod: two independent legs that swing down from alongside the barrel and provide an extremely stable firing platform in the prone position, making accurate shooting possible for even the worst shooters. Of course, shooting is the last thing that is taught, as training how to safely handle and, most importantly, clean the weapon comes way before one even sees a real bullet/round. On the farm, we only got to shot with blanks, albeit quite a few of them. I remember one night on a practice ambush scenario I emptied an entire magazine of 25 rounds on "rafale" (auto) in a frenzied defense of a "trou combat" (dugout). Needles to say, my frenzied defense turned into frenzied regret later on, when we had to properly clean our FAMAS at four o'clock in the morning.
   The last stage, and the final test, of training consists of the classic Legion "March or Die" tradition - the dreaded "March Kepi Blanc". Two days of non stop marching through difficult mountainous terrain with a full sack, FAMAS and casque (helmet). We departed from the farm at six in the morning via bus to our drop off point, FAMAS in hand. At eight - thirty on Tuesday morning we set off. The route led through spectacular European mountains, and the awesome views made the marching so much more bearable. I was blessed in that my "raagers" (military boots or GP) fit me like a glove and I wore them in well before. Thus, I had no problems with blisters like many others did. We stopped for 1/2 an hour break at noon, eating our rationed lunch that we carried with us. Then again non-stop marching through woods, along hardly marked trails, often at gradients exceeding 60 deg. It very much reminded me of hiking with Dad back in Czech mountains, and I think I have Dad to thank for training me and teaching me how to hike through the mountains. We arrived at our place of bivouac at eleven thirty at night, all of us exhausted. We all set up our simple hides and ate like wolves. A quick dip in the nearby lake, shaving without a mirror and by night, followed by a little singing before hitting the sack at around twelve thirty in the morning. Reveal at at five thirty, quickly pack the backpack and eat our final ration for breakfast, and off we went again, the entire section being on its way well before sunrise. The second day was somewhat easier, as most of the route was along country roads. We pretty much marched all morning without any prolonged breaks and continued into early afternoon. At two o'clock on the Wednesday, in the afternoon, we reached our final destination - the Chateau Sibra. As is the tradition, the final 200 m or so we ran, to arrive/enter the Chateau like glorious soldiers of the Legion. At that moment, all those that finished (including me) officially became Legionnaires. We earned the kepi blanc, and the Legion became our new home for next 5 years. We were all tired but in high spirits. We changed into our parade camouflage uniform, attaching our epaulets for the first time. A ceremony ensued, with the Chef de Section and the chef of the entire company, a Captain. After a rhetorical speech he gave the order to "Coiffez vous Kepis Blancs" We shouted all together "Legio Patria Nostra" and at the same time put on our kepis. We were Legionnaires. After taking a few photos, we had a barbeque, with plenty of food. Again we were all free to converse and mix with the higher ranks, all sharing beams. My feet sore and tired, having walked around 80 km in 40 hours or so, but I was as happy as Larry that I made it through with flying colors.
   That same day we returned to Castel. We all slept like logs in a proper bed for the first time in four weeks; on the farm we all slept in sleeping bags. After returning to Castel, life has been relatively easy since. The discipline is much more relaxed, and we are  treated with what could almost be described as respect by superiors. We are allowed contact with the outside world and we are free to go to on-base general shop to buy things and extra food if we need to. We still do plenty of physical training, and in fact at the moment we are all doing plenty of running in preparation for a 21 km "demi-marathon" on the 21st of September. We also swim and play a collective sport on every Sunday.
   In Castel we have also done, for the first time, shooting with the FAMAS with real (live) rounds. We shoot at distances of 50 m, 100 m and 200 m. First we shot at electronic screen, video game style. I do not know whether it's due to the accuracy and good design of the FAMAS or due to some hidden talent of mine, but on the electronic shoots, even at distances at 200 m I kept scoring all shots in the "base visual": a triangular bulls eye superimposed over the silhouette of a standing person. Of course, shooting with real bullets proved to be much more tricky, as the kickback and recoil is something that doesn't happen with blanks or the electronics shooting. If I can match my shooting, I think I have a good chance of making the "tireur d'elite" or sniper position in the REP. The weapon of choice being the French-Belgium PGM rifle of 12.7 mm calibre.
   In about 10 days we are leaving for "Formiguere", a week-long bivouac in the mountains, in the snow. I was told that bringing a small disposable camera is a must as the views are spectacular. I'll have to buy one at the shop the next time we can go shopping. I also hope to send some photos home from our after-March Kepi Blanc ceremony, where we had heaps of pictures taken. I'll send them as soon as I get them, so you can see what I look like as a Legionnaire. 
   So that brings me to roughly about now, to the present day. As I already said, life here is interesting to say the least, but I love it, and my motivation and resolve to make it into the REP and into a special combat unit is at an all time high. I have made so many new friends and I am a part of a new family that takes care of me just as as much as you did. (i.e.. we all look after each other like brothers).