The french mechanic p2 by thadeusz

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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.

Time went on and without realizing it, July came and with it the end of my second 9th Grade in the Military Academy. Adrian had a pass for his exams, my roommates had all succeeded in their 10th Grade courses, and so did I. This last piece of information was not communicated to my father !

The next day, Adrian and I were told to board a military car. We had been awakened at dawn and were then separated from our roommates and friends. Each of us had the right to take a small parcel with his souvenirs, his diplomas if any but no clothes: we were supposed to receive our new uniforms in our new "barracks" which was called the "Army School for Specialized Technicians" or ASST. Adrian was not really willing to go there and said nothing on the trip. I was really glad but I kept thinking:
"Why is our new school called a ‘barracks’ and not a ‘school’ ".

We left the Military Academy around 7 am and we reached our aim, our new "barracks" around 11 am. We were joining the "Army School for Specialized Technicians", or "ASST" and we thus became "Young Soldiers" or "YS", not yet worthy of the title of "Private".

There, we were told to join the new candidate technicians. We formed a group of 32 boys aged 15 except for 3 of us who had been slower at school and were slightly older: I was one of them. I was nearly 16. The eldest "older boy" was Bernard, aged 17, who was not a "failure" like me but a boy who really wanted from the start to become an Army mechanic. The third one was Marvin, aged 16, who was also a sort of "failure" but who loved mechanics. The first thing we got there was a small and dry sandwich and a glass of water. After that we were told to go through the purely military induction process. We were told to march to the place where that was going to take place. I think that Adrian and I were the only ones who knew how to march properly, in a military fashion.

Since Adrian and I were already in uniform as former Military Academy cadets, we were chosen to be the first ones to go through that process. It started with a military haircut. I was told to sit on a Corporal barber chair while Adrian stood there, looking at me and waiting. The Corporal barber caped me and without saying a word took what looked like huge clippers without a guard. He placed his left hand on the top of my head and placed his clippers in the center of my front. Suddenly the clippers became noisy and started to buzz while the Corporal barber pushed his instrument on my head from front to top. He created thus a path which, I felt, was totally deprived of hair. I say "I felt" because there was no mirror and I could only guess. The Corporal barber continued with another wide empty path on the left of the first one and then he turned slightly my head in order to make another and third path on the right of the first one. The Corporal barber worked fast, turning and pushing my head in all directions. He even pushed it on my shoulders to finish, I guess, his work on the sides. He then attacked the back of my head ("attack" is the best word I found for this military haircut). My poor head was now a sort of toy in his hands. He finished this initial haircut using smaller clippers to clean the sides of my ears and making sure that there was no start of a mustache or a beard. He made then a sign looking like "stand up" and told me:
"It is done, recruit. Uncape ! It will cost you 5 Euros which will be deducted from your first pay. Come back in one week precisely."
I slowly passed my hands over my head and discovered that I was now completely bald. I didn’t like it, but I also knew that I was not here to like or dislike. So I said:
"Nice work this baldy, Sir."
"You are not here to comment on my work, Recruit. And I am not a Sir but a Corporal. Do you know the difference ?"
I understood the difference and I replied:
"YES, Corporal."
"In that case, salute properly and go out of my room. Wait there in line, you are in the Army now, Recruit."
I decided that there was no point in trying to discuss. I saluted, turned at a right angle and went to the place the Corporal had shown with his hand in order to start a new line. That’s when I heard the big Corporal shouting:
"Take the position of attention, Recruit, since you seem to know what it is. You will serve as an example for all the others."
I obeyed this order and started to wait.

The Corporal had been very fast with me, but it had taken about five minutes. Waiting while the 31 others were similarly shaved took a certain time. I remained in the position of attention during all that time. That was my first concrete lesson of the "Wait and see" attitude I had to adopt now that I had been thrown in the Army … to save me from Medical School !

The next stop was the clothing department. It is there that I received my first soldier-like uniforms. There was first a pair of BDUs and four khaki T-shirts for the military exercises. The BDUs and the T-shirts were in a solid but comfortable cloth and we were told to put them on immediately, on top of our new military-like undies. We all looked very different immediately: no longer young boys or even adolescents ready to start school, but we looked now like real soldiers. The BDU equipment was completed by a military looking cap and knee high khaki socks with high black boots. Gone were the comfortable ankle boots I had received in the Military Academy.

With that I received a blue training in a sort of heavy cotton. The pants were provided with an elastic at the waist and elastics at each ankle. There were also side pockets and one left leg pocket. This pair of pants went with a top in the same material, without any pocket on the sides and front, but with a zipper from waist to top and an elastic at each wrist. The waist was also provided with an elastic and the top of the collar, covering completely the neck up to the chin, was also in a sort of elastic. There were pockets high on the side of each sleeve. We were told that these pockets were provided to keep our pens. This uniform was accompanied by a blue beret with the logo of our new institution: a wheel representing a gear crossed by a rifle.

This blue uniform was meant to be used during classes, meals and rest periods. All new "Young soldiers" (that’s how we were called) could wear civvies when they were authorized to go out of the barracks on a rest day. The problem was that Adrian and I came with a Military Academy uniform and that we had to abandon this uniform while we received our new soldier-like uniform.

The last piece of equipment was a green overall to be used on top of the BDU when we were doing practical mechanical exercises. This one did not look military at all, but it was not elegant either.

All the pieces of our uniforms had to be perfectly clean and perfectly ironed at all times. We were taught that machines and irons were at our disposal in a room in the basement. We shared this room with other "Young soldiers" who learned other techniques in use in the French Army, but we were the most "advanced" from a technical point of view. In fact we were the only ones learning how to take care of a truck or car engine. Others were "only" learning how to make buildings or furniture or work as electricians … and that is why we were told that we were "the best of the bests".

I was part of the first group of 8 candidates, future mechanics to have all our equipment plus our bedding material. Immediately, as a Jack-out-of-the-box, a soldier with two stripes on his sleeves appeared in front of us. I guessed what it meant: this man would be our Corporal. He did not seem unpleasant, and he started well:
"Young soldiers, I am Corporal Mareuil and you are team one, my team. Follow me."

Corporal Mareuil led us to a long room with 8 beds, 4 on each side, and one cupboard for each bed. He immediately shouted:
"Place all your things in your cupboard according to the drawing. I don’t want to see anything out of line. Action soldiers."
And I fully realized that I had exchanged the Medical School for a technical School, but also that I was now fully a real soldier.

As soon as the Corporal shouted his order "Action soldiers", I started to place my things in my cupboard, as shown on the drawing placed inside the cupboard door. After that I made my bed as I had learned to do it with my mother, following my father’s orders. I also had the benefit of the "refreshing comments" given in the Military Academy. I had to hurry because the Corporal shouted another order. "STOP. In the position of attention at the foot or your bed. Don’t move. Inspection."

The Corporal moved from one cupboard to another and every time, he shouted "nothing is in the correct position". Adding insult to injury, he took whatever appeared out of place, took it and threw it in the middle of the room. When he reached me, he started insulting the new soldier that I was, but he suddenly reversed to silence. After a detailed inspection of my cupboard and of my bed, he calmly asked:
"Vandervelde, where did you learn to organize your things like THAT ?"
"At the Military Academy, Corporal."
"They don’t teach it that well. So answer my question."
"At home also, Corporal."
"Father in the military ?"
"YES, corporal."
"What corps and what rank, Private ?"
It was the first time I was called "Private", but I remained in the position of attention and snapped briefly, in what I assumed was a military way:
"Medical Corps, corporal."
"I asked ‘what rank’. Don’t force me to repeat myself, Private."
"General, corporal."
"SO, you are the son of a General. Why are you here and no longer in a Military Academy ?"
"By choice, Corporal."
"BY CHOICE, Private. I will let you learn what it means to be a Private in my platoon in this Military technical School. DROP and GIVE ME 50."
I immediately took the requested position and started to give this unpleasant Corporal the 50 push-ups he required.
While doing so, obediently, I thought that life was strange: I was the new soldier with the best organized cupboard and I was punished for that.

Corporal Mareuil behaved really as a brute ready to punish each and everyone of us without any reason. I thought that he did it simply because he was a sadist. We were all frightened by him. I must confess that I was less frightened because I was one year older than most of the others and also because I guessed that this "brutalization" was the price I had to pay to become what I really wanted: a specialized mechanic. So, I decided to play his game and I tried to become what I had in any case to be: a real and perfect soldier.

But it also had another consequence. After about a month, without noticing it, we had all adopted a low profile making us more or less good soldiers. I later realized that this was exactly what Corporal Mareuil wanted to get: he was an intelligent man and a good soldier who wanted to force us to give the best we could. He really wanted to make perfect soldiers out of us, not forgetting that we wanted to be technicians. He also knew that our courses would start soon and that he had only about three months to transform each of us from a young hesitant adolescent, a rather stupid teenager, into a perfect soldier ready to learn about the functioning of all possible engines.

With Corporal Mareuil, we learned to march, salute, take the position of attention, eat and drink, speak, etc like real soldiers and now that I think about it, I must confess that I admire our Corporal’s method. He was really successful, even with young guys like me who thought that they had learned all that in the Military Academy.

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