The french mechanic : p1. the failure by thadeusz

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My father is Dr. Prof. Charles Vandervelde. He insists that everybody must call him "Doctor Professor" since he is indeed an MD and also a University Professor. He is also something important in the Army Medical staff, but until recently, I never cared to guess what. I think that at that time, I didn't really like him. My father is a very busy man working in several clinics. I think he likes all his children, but he chose to raise us in a very strict way.

I have an elder brother, Thomas, and an elder sister (younger than Thomas) : Marylin. I am much younger than they are. By the way, my name is Louis. I am thus Louis Vandervelde, youngest son of the Professor !

Mother is a quiet person, very active at home but not working outside. One nearly never hears her.
We all lived near Paris where my father worked most of the time and where my brother, my sister and I went to school.

Father wanted Thomas to be his successor and thus he required him to study medicine. But Thomas did not want to join the military as father wanted him to do. In fact, as soon as he had his highschool diploma, he got as a present a trip to Boston, where there is a famous Medical school. But once there, my brother succeeded to get a scholarship and he started studying Architecture in a well known American university.

After that, Father told Marylin that she ought to prepare herself to learn medicine, but she bluntly refused. She said that she did not want to join the Army. On the contrary, she wanted to get married and become a cook. My father wanted to lock her up, but she succeeded in keeping her phone and she warned Father that if he stopped her going out, she would call the police and tell them that her own father molested her. In fact she promised to tell the police that he wanted to rape her. It was obviously false, but because of his job, Father had to appear as having a reputation cleaner than clean !!! So he let Marylin go out. She got married with her lover and became a cook in her husband’s restaurant.

As soon as I started grade 9, my father told me that I had to study well because I was, what he called, "his last hope to have a real heir". So he told me:
"Keep studying well, later you will study Medicine and work with me." I had always been a good student and I liked to study, so that was not a problem for me, but I did not want to become an MD: I wanted to become a mechanic, a mechanic for very fast cars. In fact I wanted to lead a racing team, and I had other similar dreams. I really did not know what I should do. I was really unhappy because of what my father told me.

Suddenly, my mother, Marie, looked at me and said:
"Louis, I don’t want you to be unhappy. Think about Thomas' attitude. Try to do as well as your sister who is happy now."
I don’t know what she had in mind, but that was enough for me: I simply had to resist ! And that meant stopping having good grades. It was difficult for me since I still loved to study and to learn new things, new notions. But whenever there was a test or an exam, I carefully chose to make as many mistakes as possible. In fact I chose to make selected mistakes : some of my answers were correct but most were wrong. I had realized that if all my answers were wrong, my "trick" would be discovered and I did not want that.

My grades, which had been brilliant, were now falling down. At the end of my 9th grade, my results were so bad that I was not admitted in 10th grade. My father was furious when I announced this "sad" news to my parents and I thought my father would hit me. He chose another attitude:
"Louis, I don’t like that. You know that you must have good grades to be accepted in the Army Medical School. Anyway, I had guessed from your previous marks that this could happen and I have something ready. Tomorrow we are going together to a place where they can help you. Now, you go to bed without supper."

And so I went to my room with an empty belly, and I slept rather well except for my hungry body.

The next day, my father woke me up early and told me to get ready. I put on my usual old jeans and a red and green t-shirt with the picture of Angela Davis, a famous Marxist icon, on it. My father frowned when he saw my T-shirt, but he only said:
"That will soon be corrected."
He told me to come in his car and he started to drive for about 30 minutes in the dense Parisian region. We finally arrived at a small village called Saint-Cyr-l’Ecole. There my father stopped in front of a big and old building with a mention: "Lycée Militaire de Saint-Cyr-l’Ecole". That’s when my father told me:
"Louis, you are intelligent but you failed because you did not study properly. So, this summer, you are NOT going to the seaside with your mother. You are going to stay here as a cadet during the summer holidays. You will follow special courses with other failing cadets. This might enable you to be accepted in grade 10 when school resumes after the holidays. So, try to behave."

My "dear" father led me then to an office marked "Colonel C. Gareth". He entered, pushing me inside.
The man inside, I guessed that he was Colonel Gareth, stood up and saluted my father in a military fashion, and said:
"General, I guess that this young man is the son you mentioned in our previous conversation."
And my father replied, to my great surprise:
"Yes, Colonel, this is my son Louis. I mentioned his case a few days ago and worse came to worse: he is not accepted in Grade 10. He is very intelligent but he did not study. Do whatever you can or consider good for the boy. I salute you and I leave for my Hospital."
I did not know that my father was also a General in the Medical Service of the Army and I now understood some of his attitudes. I also realized how he succeeded in getting me as a cadet inside this Military School, at the very start of my holidays. I guessed that nothing good was going to come out of this for me.

My father left, leaving me alone, with nothing with me and no instructions. The Colonel looked at me and at my long blond locks. He turned around as if he wanted to buy me or something of that sort. Finally, the Colonel started to speak:
"Listen, my boy. Your father wants you to study better than you did last year. He thus decided to place you in this Military School as early as the beginning of this summer. You will now receive your uniform, get a decent haircut and be sent to the appropriate classroom. Try to learn well in order to be able to start in Grade 10 next September."

I did not like being treated as an Army cadet, but since that was only for the summer, I decided that I could live with it.

The Colonel called a Sergeant and told him:
"SGT Wagner, get hold of this hippie and transform him into a decent cadet. For the time being, this boy is a mess and a failure. His father, General Vandervelde, wants him to study here in order to get better grades. Therefore, this boy must be transformed in order to be able to behave like a good Army cadet and get good results for his 9 Grade exams. A uniform has already been ordered for him yesterday."

The Sergeant had a name tag above his left breast pocket: I read that he was called "L. Wagner". He immediately got hold of me by putting his two hands solidly on my shoulders. He held me that way and took me out of the Colonel’s office.

Sergeant Wagner took me to the clothing room where all my civilian clothes, socks and shoes included, were taken away and then thrown in a dustbin. I received in exchange three sets of military looking undies, a set of sport clothes consisting of a khaki T-shirt and shorts of the same color, two sets of knee high socks and one pair of white sport running shoes. I also received two white shirts and a dark blue tie, a dark blue vest with 4 copper buttons and the school logo on the left pocket, a dark blue pair of trousers, black knee high socks and a pair of short black ankle boots which were really shiny.

Finally came two light blue polo shirts with three buttons, one heavy blue jumper and, most important, a light blue, military looking, forage cap. There was also a small bag with the following words on it: "military cleaning kit".

To make things worse, there was a yellow patch in the form of a diamond on each sleeve of every piece of uniform. There was also a set of black labels with the words: "L. Vandervelde, grade 9" on it. The Sergeant told me:
"That’s your nametag, as of now."
The Sergeant told me to put on immediately my blue trousers and shirt, without tie, and my new shoes and black socks. He then attached my new nametag on my shirt and told me to place all the rest of my new clothes in a big bag he provided. The bag also had that damned label: "Cadet Vandervelde, Grade 9".

I say "damned label" because I felt that my father had trapped me, at least for the summer if not for a much longer period. I had heard about these military schools and the dreadful discipline that was imposed on the cadets in these schools. I hated my father for doing that on me, and also for depriving me of what I considered as well earned holidays. I did not think for a second that I was responsible for it, with my "selected" bad answers.

On top of everything else, the Sergeant gave me a khaki backpack with two straps to carry my books. My name was also on it. Sergeant Wagner told me to place that bag on my shoulders "to get used to the proper attitude to go to classes."

All this had been done rapidly, so the Sergeant had enough time to show me the room I would from now on share with three other cadets. He also explained how I was supposed to store all my new clothes in the tiny cupboard foreseen for that purpose and, most important in his eyes, "how to make my bed in a military way".

After that came a last step to shame, the Sergeant, still holding me by both shoulders, pushed me towards the barber room. Before that I had not realized that the Sergeant, who was big and fatty, was also very strong when pushing young boys.

The barber, a Corporal, told me to sit in his chair. He placed a piece of cloth around my neck and then a khaki cover all over me. He then started to comb my long locks in order to let them form a sort of dome all over my head. He parted my hair, leaving the majority hanging on my right side and the rest on my left side. He then took scissors and started to cut above my left ear level. He had left me facing the mirror so I could see everything he was doing. I realized that he was making my ears completely visible, leaving a horizontal line around my head at that level. The Corporal barber continued on the right side. For the first time since ages my ears were completely visible. The Corporal barber kept using his scissors to cut the great lock of hair I had slowly let grow above my forehead. This gave me a totally new look. But it was not finished yet. The Corporal barber then took hair clippers and started to clean everything that was left on the sides of my head, below his horizontal line, and also everything below that line on my back and nape. I kept looking in the mirror, fascinated by this "new me" that was appearing. I hated it, and I hated my father for imposing it on me. But I could not resist.

When he considered that he was done, the Corporal barber gave me a comb and said:
"Don’t forget to comb your hair, respecting the parting line. You must do that every day and you must wash your hair every time you take a shower. Now, you can stand up and put your forage cap decently on your head."

I was so upset by all this that I had forgotten that I was dreadfully hungry: I did not receive my evening meal the day before nor my breakfast on this day. Luckily, the sergeant told me to march towards the cadets’ dining room (called "the mess") having, of course, my forage cap well placed on my head. There I was seated next to other boys of my age, all with a yellow badge. They were Charles, Mark and Colin. The lunch was not too bad, but clearly it was canteen food.

These three boys were also in uniform and we realized that we all slept in the same room. Mark immediately suggested that we became friends. After lunch, despite the fact that it was a Saturday, it was back to classes. The teacher decided that I should sit next to Mark who was told to explain to me the rules of the institution.

As soon as the lesson started, I perfectly knew what the teacher was trying to explain and I was probably the only one among the "failures" sitting with me in the classroom. I tried to help discretely Mark, the teacher punished me for that: I had to stand alone in a corner with my face towards the wall … and my forage cap on my head, moreover I had to do this while keeping what the teacher told me was "the position of attention".

During my time in the corner, I realized that I had received a lot of clothes. Too much for just two months. I was afraid that my father wanted to keep me there in case I failed my 9 grade tests once more. Therefore, I decided to stop my little game of "slightly less than half the correct answers" and to play now "good student" as I had done in the past.

This lasted for two weeks. I got good marks and helped Mark get better marks. The Colonel called me then in his office and started to congratulate me:
"Cadet Vandervelde, you are doing well here. Your father was right, a little bit of military education was good to bring you to your senses and let you become again the good student you were in the past."
"Can I go home then, Colonel ?" was my reaction.
"No, Louis. You must first take the 9 grade tests. If you get a ‘pass’ for these tests, you are going to start your 10th grade here."
"But Colonel, I don’t like it here. I like being free."
"You are now a cadet having good marks. If you go back to your old school you might fail again. You don’t want that, Cadet ?"
"But what happens if I fail my 9th grade tests here ?"
"You will simply repeat this 9th grade. Your father wants you to have a good BAC and this is the best place for this purpose".
"But Colonel, 9th grade tests are too difficult for me. What will happen if I fail again ?"
"In that case, which will not happen I hope, you will regrettably be expelled from this school. Now go back to your classroom and keep helping Mark."

I saluted the Colonel, as I had been told by Mark. I made an as good as possible "about turn" and I started to march in step towards my classroom. In fact I was crying. I did not like at all the idea of staying longer than a month in that Military school. I hated the idea that I would have to get my BAC here and then I would probably be sent by my "dear" father to the Military Medical school where he was a Professor.

The same evening, I had a long discussion with Mark and the other guys in my room. I told them that my father wanted me to be an MD, to work with him probably in the Military Medical School, and that I really did not want to do that. I also told them what I had done to have failing grades and they liked it. After that I told them that I was now locked in for a long period of time in the school where we were now. They promised to help me if I helped them. That was our secret pact.

With the help of my three roommates, and especially that of Mark, I learned how to behave as a good Army cadet and I explained to them how to learn and remember their 9th grade courses. Simultaneously, I went back to my system of 49% of correct answers and 51% of wrong answers. In the end, they all got a pass for their 9th grade courses while I got the "Fail" I wanted. But there had been one significant progress: I now perfectly knew how to behave as a good Army cadet !

In fact, after thinking a lot about this problem, I understood that my father really wanted one of his children to become his "successor". For him, that meant an MD in the Army Medical system, preferably also a professor. As a consequence, he would not let me go my personal way since my brother and my sister had left. Therefore, I had to become a military man, like he was, but he could not force me to become an MD. That was thus my new plan.

I had to stay for another year in this Army School. The colonel, who was a wise and shrewd man, let me stay in the same room as my summer comrades. They had been on "vacation" at their respective homes during one FULL week and they came back with a new patch on their sleeves, a blue one now. My father had forbidden me to go home, since I was a complete failure, and I kept my yellow patch in the shape of a diamond.

While my friends had been on vacation, I had the benefit of a special military training given by Sergeant Wagner to all cadets who had to stay in the school for different reasons (punishment in my case and absence of parents for others). For me, the Sergeant used specially exhausting exercises which left me tired as everything, but also strangely satisfied to have accomplished what the Sergeant had required as extra proof of my military ability and military obedience.

It goes without saying that I had to go to the Corporal barber every two weeks during my summer session. There was nevertheless an important change when I started my first complete year in the Military Academy.

I now had a special treatment after that summer session, since I was now a "repeater" with a special badge: my yellow patch was now provided with a black bar in the center. Therefore I had to go and visit the Corporal barber every week and get a very short haircut, the first of which was a brutal induction cut. The Corporal barber told me that this brutal cut had been especially ordered for me by the General, i.e. by my father. With my crossed out patch, I was presented to all the other Cadets as a stupid repeater.

I got rapidly completely used to the military routine imposed on me. After all, I did not want to become a military MD, nor another MD, but being forced to live for one more year as an Army Cadet, and being forced to respect Military like discipline did not seem to be too unbearable. After all, I had made several good friends in this Academy and it was only for one year. Moreover, this military routine enabled me to cheat easily and to appear as if I were really a failing cadet despite the fact that I knew all the answers and that I was able to help my roommates who really needed it.

After 6 weeks of this non-studying attitude, I was ordered to go to the Colonel’s office. According to the regulations, I put on my parade uniform, i.e. my blue trousers with my white shirt and the regulation tie, plus my dark blue vest. I checked that my shoes were perfectly clean and I went, courageously since such an order usually meant bad news.

I entered the colonel’s office, marching in step. I saluted the Colonel and took the position of attention. It was only then that I noticed that two of my teachers were present.

The Colonel spoke as thus:
"Cadet Vandervelde, we all noticed that your military bearing is excellent. Do you like being an Army cadet ?"
"No, Colonel."
"In that case, why did you put so much effort into being a model cadet, and I even say a real potentially excellent soldier."
"Because, Colonel, it was easier to do it that way than to try to disobey my father’s orders."
"I see. But why do you study so badly: are you again going to fail your 9th grade ?"
"Colonel, I cannot do better. I think I am a failure."
"Vandervelde, NOW YOU ARE LYING !" roared the Colonel, rather furious. He went on and said this:
"Your teachers were intrigued by the fact that you answered most of the time correctly, except for official tests where you always had just one bad answer too much. You probably spent a lot of time preparing your answers ! Moreover, you were perfectly successful in helping the other cadets in your room with problems you claimed were too difficult for you. That made all of us very curious and we checked your school file as it is kept in the Ministry of Education. You were always an excellent student until the middle of last year. That’s when you started to cheat in the negative way. Can you explain what happened then ?"
I was surprised that he had all these details and, not knowing what to do, I told the Colonel and my two teachers that my father wanted me to become an MD through the Army Medical School because my brother and my sister had escaped him. I added that I did not want to do this.

The Colonel asked briskly:
"Because it would be an Army School ?"
"Well, at first I did not want that either, but here I have noticed that being an Army cadet is bearable."
"What would you like to do, if you could choose freely ?"
That’s when I told him, and the teachers, what I really wanted to do: working as a highly qualified mechanic. The Colonel ended this interview saying:
"Go back to your room, put on your usual classroom uniform and start studying as a good pupil. We will see what can be done for you."

I saluted, made the usual about turn and left this office.

One week later I was called back to the Colonel’s office. Once again, I was instructed to put on my ceremony uniform. Once again I marched as a good cadet must march, I entered this office and I correctly saluted two persons: the Colonel and the civilian serving as a Headmaster for the school. The Colonel started to speak:
"Cadet Vandervelde, the Army has opened a technical school where Army technicians are trained. One of the possible choices for these cadets is precisely to become a specialized mechanic. Would you be interested in that ?"
"Yes, Colonel."
"I must warn you that it will be an Army school with a discipline really more strict than this one. Are you ready for that ?"
"Yes Colonel, provided my father lets me go."
"We are going to take care of that, Cadet. I must warn you that this education will not be for free: you will have to serve in the Army for a certain time."
"As a mechanic, Colonel ?"
"As a specialized and highly qualified mechanic if you pass all the tests. This might even mean that you would rapidly be promoted to Sergeant."
"I don’t care about the rank of Sergeant, Colonel, only for the fact that I would be a real mechanic."
"That will be the case and you will also get your driving license."
I was really grateful for all these good possibilities and I said:
"Colonel, I fully accept this possibility."
"There is nevertheless a condition, you must have validated all your Grade 9 exams. The Headmaster will explain what we think you could do."

The Headmaster told me that they all knew that I was able to get at least a pass for all my 9 Grade exams. It had thus been decided that I would spend the next week taking these exams, in total isolation. If I failed the consequences could be terrible for me:
"The General, your father, would learn that you are a stupid idiot unable to get a pass for his 9 grade exams. He might then decide to enlist you, by force, for 10 years in the French Foreign Legion."
This really frightened me. I now know that it would have been impossible : I was too young and I was not a real volunteer. But I did not think about that when the Headmaster used that argument and I decided to obey his orders: take the exams and get a pass.

The Headmaster added that the professors knew that I was intelligent and helpful. So:
"You are also going to help a young cadet, slightly younger than you, who is really failing his 9th grade now. You are going to help him to such an extent that he will get a pass at the end of his 9th grade and then go with you to a new military school where the Army trains young technicians. You will study there for a period of 3 years and become what your father will accept: an Army technician specialized in mechanics."
"But, Sir …"
"There is no but. This is an order. If you don’t do it, it will be the Legion and its hardships."
"I understand, Sir."
"Moreover, you are good enough to get a full academic BAC. You are thus going to learn by yourself the content of 10th Grade courses and report weekly about that to me. Understood ?"
"YES, Sir."
I felt I was cornered. I knew that I had no choice ! I started to work seriously.

During the following week, I took all possible 9th Grade tests. I had so carefully organized everything in order to fail these tests twice, that I passed easily with very high marks. Nevertheless, the Colonel decided that I had to remain among the "failed 9th Graders" and simultaneously, that I had to help my new friend Adrian and to continue helping my roommates for their 10th Grade courses, and get ready to take some 10th Grade exams.

I had no time to dream, because on top of that, I had to get ready to become a real soldier in the technical staff.

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