Should a plumber have a higher pay ? by thadeusz

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My father works in the mining industry: he spends his days getting nickel out of the ground. He is not paid very much and often life at home is difficult for my parents, my 6 brothers and sisters and me.

By the way, my first name is Manea and my last name is Tautu. In my family, we are all members of the "Kanak" group of citizens, the original inhabitants of Tahiti. We are all true and proud Melanesians with an Asiatic (far fetched) origin.

While I attended elementary school, my teachers considered that I was very intelligent: they wanted my parents to send me to a good and state secondary school. For my dear parents, it was simply impossible: they loved me but I was the eldest child and they wanted me to bring some money home, they didn't want me to continue needing money for my food. I was ambitious and wanted to study further, which created a problem.

Finally, my elementary school teachers found a solution: they sent me to a Christian boarding school in the main town of Tahiti, in Papeete. There, the "good fathers" gave me what they considered as a good schooling, plus room, board and clothing. This was an awful uniform: it made me look like a candidate priest and this is NOT what I wanted. The "good fathers" added to all this the elements of their discipline. In fact, these French priests decided that I would be one of them, or then become a plumber.

I was tall and I had elegant but relatively short curly dark hair. My skin was dark, but like most Tahitians, I had a long and straight nose. According to the girls I met in Papeete, when I had an opportunity to go out of the boarding school, I was very likable !

Nevertheless, I studied well and at the age of 18, I got a professional BAC making me a "certified plumber". That’s when I had to leave the boarding school where I had lived for several years, making me free of the "dictature" of the French priests.

I tried to find a job, but nobody seemed to need a plumber in Papeete. I did my job research with a friend of mine: Jean-Xavier Merchu. Jean-Xavier, who was just 17, came from a Caldoche family, this means that he was a descendant of the former French colonists. His skin was white as everything and he had pale straight hair covering his eyes. He also had a BAC, but an ordinary one, not a professional one. He had also studied with the "good fathers" and was just as disgusted as I was of their imperialist manners. Unluckily, despite his French look, he did not find a job in the city of Papeete.

We sat at a table in a bar and put our resources together: we had very little money and urgently needed a job. Jean-Xavier attracted my attention by mentioning a poster he had seen in a bar. This poster simply mentioned: "Join the Army and get a good pay."

We decided that it was worth trying it since we were both French citizens. We immediately tried the RIMaP-P which seemed to be the only available regiment in Tahiti. They had an office in Papeete. But there, we were told that they did not enlist young people so rapidly. An Adjutant gave us the following piece of advice:
"Go to the Legion recruiting office. There is one in Papeete and they immediately enlist all good candidates."

We did not know exactly what such an enlistment implied, but we went to the Legion Recruiting office in Tahiti. There we received a provisional uniform in exchange for our identity papers. This provisional uniform consisted of khaki undies, a khaki short and a t-shirt of the same color, green socks and heavy black military boots. Everything except the boots and the socks was khaki, a color I disliked. I realized that if I wanted to enlist I would have to learn to LIKE this color.

In fact, we received two sets of clothes and undies in order to remain clean. As soon as we were dressed in this mini uniform, we were shown into a nice room, looking like a dorm in our former boarding school but without the desks.

We were then introduced into a small office, one at a time. An officer was there and he questioned each of us. He asked me to give my name and immediately after he warned me that I would, as of now, be called "Mori Tuberi" and be considered provisionally as a citizen of Madagascar ! He also told me that if I immediately signed a 5 year contract, I would get what he called "more money than usual enlistees" and moreover "a good life for at least 5 years", provided that my initial tests were good enough. I immediately signed the 5 year contract and I was proud to have found a "job" so rapidly.

Jean-Xavier went through the same process and signed also after learning that his new and provisional name was "Jules Michelet" and that he would be treated as a Belgian.

The Legion officer added that we had to surrender our phones and that we were no longer allowed to leave the premises of the Legion barracks before either our rejection or the end of our instruction period.

I really did not mind these restrictions since my parents had in any case let me go in the big world: I did not communicate with them since I had started to study with the "good fathers". Jean-Xavier (sorry, Jules Michelet now) did not really like these restrictions but he accepted them since he thought that this was our only way to get some food. At least he told me so !

The testing period started the next morning. As far as my friend and I were concerned, it went well. We were with 9 other candidates and we shared two 6-beds rooms and learned rapidly to respect the Legion discipline as far as rooms and cleanliness are concerned.

At the end of the first week, 3 candidates were sent home for lack of physical abilities and failures in the medical tests. At the end of the second week, 4 other candidates were sent home because their IQ and psychological tests were not satisfactory. Finally, Jean-Xavier and I remained with two other candidates. Our test results were sent to France. We had to stay for the final decision to be taken by the Legion in Aubagne. We were still in our tiny uniform but we already learned to respect military discipline and we were told how to behave like young soldiers.

Eventually, all my tests were approved by Aubagne, the headquarter of the Legion. The police records of the two others were checked lengthily, which delayed their final acceptance. As far as my friend was concerned, his test results were excellent, his police record was just as clean as mine, but he was too young to enlist. His parents were consulted and gave a total approval, but the Legion decided to delay his incorporation until he was 18.

As a consequence of all that, I was the only one to board a nice plane going to Marseille. My plane ticket was very expensive but luckily he was paid by the Legion. Jean-Xavier would join me slightly later: he would first work as "civilian barman" in the Legion barracks. I never understood that strange decision.

The main thing for me was that I was accepted and that I would immediately start earning much more money than the Legionnaires who enlisted in mainland France. I asked how much I would earn and the Master Corporal who was in charge of our group replied:
"Ask that once you are in Aubagne, they can explain better."

I flew from Papeete to Marseille. There were two stop-overs. The first one in Los Angeles and the second in Paris. The stop-over in Los Angeles implied special precautions for the US police controls: I was placed under French police authority and I was not allowed to go out of the Air France zone. This stop-over did not last more than an hour. The second stop-over occured in Paris, waiting for a plane to Marseille. That was a long stop-over and I was locked in a Legion office at the Airport for the whole night. It was a nice and comfortable place, but I regretted not having the opportunity to go and visit Paris. Finally, after a trip that lasted all together 38 hours, I arrived in Marseille where a Legion Sergeant was waiting to fetch me: he brought me directly to the barracks of the 1 RE, the training regiment. This was my first contact with Sergeant Kolnitchev who seemed a very severe soldier.

As soon as I arrived at the barracks, I received the rest of my uniform. No longer a "test uniform": all tests had been done in Papeete and the results had been considered as good by the Legion. I was then introduced in a Captain’s office: I had been told that I was now a Recruit and that I had to salute militarily and state my name and time of service every time I was speaking to an officer. I was taught how to do it in Papeete. I thus started to speak as follows:
"Recruit Mori Tuberi formerly Manea Tautu, 1 month of service, at your command Captain."
"Recruit, your presentation is nearly correct. BUT there are mistakes !!! First you must NEVER mention your real name as long as you are not authorized to do so, after the process of ‘rectification’ and secondly, you must always mention your matricule number which you must know by heart. Start again."
"Captain, I did not memorize my Matricule number."
"Tuberi, you must do it immediately." And the Captain turned himself towards the Sergeant who had led me from the airport: "Sergeant Kolnichev, the Matricule number of this Recruit must be tattooed on both his hands today."
I did not like this idea but I had no argument to object: I had made a mistake and I would not repeat it, but it was too late and I had to be punished the Legion way. Luckily, the Sergeant interfered:
"Captain, this Recruit is a future excellent legionnaire. Let him learn his Matricule number and punish him only after a second failure, if he fails again."
"Agreed", said the Captain before asking me "Any question ?"
"Yes, Captain. How much will be my additional pay ? I want to be able to send money to my parents."
"Additional pay ? What is that strange idea ?"
"Captain, in Papeete they told us that if we enlisted immediately, we would get more money than the ordinary Legionnaire. They added that you would tell us how much."
"Tuberi, you will get exactly the same pay as the other candidates legionnaires who have passed the first selection. Not a cent more."
"But in Papeete they told us …" the Captain interrupted me:
"Tuberi, you are in the Legion now and you are not supposed to contest what a superior tells you. Sergeant, bring this Recruit to the brig: he will start his Legion career by staying for 8 days in the brig. And give him a clean head."

Sergeant Kolnichev told me to follow him. As soon as we were outside the Captain’s office he told me:
"They didn’t pay your ticket for you ?"
"Yes Sergeant."
"Well, that’s the money you got and your future comrades from Poland or other places don’t get. You made a bad impression today, try to behave in the future."

I decided to be as good a legionnaire as possible even if it was complex for me. In any case, I had no choice in the beginning: the SGT led me to the brig where instead of my new legionnaire uniform, I got an old prisoner’s uniform. It was clean, but it also looked like rags. I was also told to sit on a wooden stool which had a partially broken foot: this made it impossible for me to sit comfortably.

I was dressed like a prisoner, I was a prisoner and this was a very bad start for me in the Legion. Another prisoner came towards me, armed with electric clippers provided with a long wire. He simply said:
"Just imagine you are a sheep ready to give us its wool and close your eyes."
I did as he said and he got brutally hold of my head. I could not see him, but I could feel every passage of the clippers on my head. This prisoner was certainly not a professional barber, not even an experienced amateur. He was simply a legionnaire, a man ready to fight against the enemies of France. He had more or less learned to pass an extended shaver through prisoners’ hair. This guy, whom I did not know, passed several times through the same place but there were places he had completely avoided. This improvised barber also shaved my nice mustache. That was a sign of destruction of my individuality and I was really angry, but I could not protest anymore. When this so-called barber was done, he told me:
"Pass your hands through your hair."
I did as I had been told and felt the awful mess this pseudo barber, my future comrade, had left on my head and I asked the brig sergeant:
"Sergeant, may I use the clippers to achieve cleaning my head."
"My boy, it has been done by your comrade."
"Sergeant, I have the impression he forgot a little corner. Have a look."
The Sergeant had a close look at my head and started to laugh:
"This is not the punishment you deserve but a dreadful presentation of the Corsican mountains" and the Sergeant kept laughing. He then used his cellphone to make pictures of my head.

After five good minutes he decided:
"I am going to lock you in as you are and ask the Captain if tomorrow I could shave you to the woods."
He pushed me then into a small cell and left me there for the night, wondering whether it had been such a good idea to join the Legion and simultaneously dreaming of doing my best in order to become a really good Legionnaire.

The food I got in the brig was bad and I had to sleep on a plank in my little cell. The next morning, SGT Kolnichev came back. He took me out of my cell, and told me:
"Recruit Tuberi, I described your present situation to the Captain and I showed him the pictures I made. I also mentioned your request. The Captain decided that I can show you how you can shave yourself, but then it will be ‘to the woods’. Understood ?"
"At your command, Sergeant."

The SGT took me out of the cell and told me to sit on the same chair as the day before. He then got hold of my head with his left hand and started to make his clippers pass methodically, from front to top. Each passage corresponded to a path I could feel. I could not see anything, but I could feel what the SGT was doing. I could feel the metal of the clippers close to my skull skin. I could also feel the way he forced me to incline my head to the left and then to the right. He processed in the same way, from top to nape, and turned my head to have a good access. Before that, without saying a word, he forced me to bow my head. Finally, he cleaned the sides of my head and he pushed my head on my shoulder in order to easily reach both sides, one at a time. At the end, he checked with his hand if any hair or stubble was left. He proudly said:
"There is nothing left, you are clean my boy. Stand up and feel with your hands on your head."
I did as ordered and passed my hands on my head: there was really nothing left, the same for my former mustache. In fact I felt elated, I was proud of my shaved head, I felt like a new man, a real adult now. I had finally the impression that I was a real legionnaire, or at least a legionnaire in spe.

I took the position of attention, as I had been taught to do during my tests in Papeete, and remained quiet.
The Sergeant went on:
"I have bad news for you. Considering that you were insolent with your stupid question about your pay, the Colonel has extended your punishment from 8 days to 12 days. During these days you will do chores, be isolated from the other Recruits and sleep in your cell. UNDERSTOOD ?"
And I shouted my answer, as told during my test period: "YES, SERGEANT"
"Good Mori. Would you like to learn to shave heads ?"
It was a strange question, but I wanted to please this Sergeant and I answered:
"YES, SERGEANT."
"Good, as soon as your chores are done, I will start teaching you how you should do it."

Everything occurred as the SGT had told me. During the day, I had to clean the barracks and the numerous open spaces inside the walls of the barracks. This implied among other things picking up all cigarette butts and other dirty papers left by the numerous legionnaires and throwing them away. I also had opportunities to eat, but only with punished legionnaires (I was the only punished Recruit), completely cleaning my prisoner uniform and polishing my prisoner boots. After the evening meal, SGT Kolnichev appeared from outside the brig and took me with him to show me how to shave heads. I rapidly learned how to do it without hurting the comrade I was "cleaning" and on my last day in the brig, the SGT told me that I was a good legion barber.

The next day, the SGT told me to get dressed in my real Legion uniform and to follow him to the Captain’s office. Before entering this office, he gave me a green beret with the regiment badge on it and he told me how to wear it, and how and when to take it off.

I entered the Captain’s office in the prescribed way and I heard the Captain asking me a question:
"Recruit Tuberi, what was your trade before leaving Tahiti ?"
"This Recruit was trained to become a plumber, Captain."
"Do you still want to get a better pay than your fellow Recruit ?"
"CAPTAIN, that was a mistake based on a misunderstanding."
"So you don’t require a better pay immediately ?"
"SIR, NO, SIR."
"Good, but additional work could give you an additional pay. Now you have been trained to become a Legion barber. You will serve as such until your group of Recruits leave these barracks for the farm. During that time you will be paid as much as a Legionnaire 1st Class. DISMISS. "
I saluted, made a nearly correct about-turn and left the Captain’s office. The SGT was smiling !

I joined the Recruits with whom I would train, but the SGT told me that they were waiting for a second group. During that waiting time, the Recruits were supposed to help in the bar and in the kitchen without additional pay. I was going to shave the heads of my future comrades and get a little bit more. It would be a lie to say that I did not like this situation.

So during slightly less than a week I spent my days standing behind the newcomers and shaving some of them. I was part of a small team of seasoned legionnaires who worked fast and well. One of them decided to help me to learn more about the shaving job, including shaving for officers. He showed me how to shave legionnaires in a nice way, leaving some short hair on the top of the head below the beret or Kepi, but leaving the sides whitewalled. That was also a good lesson. Finally before that working period ended, I rushed to the mini supermarket we had inside the barracks and I bought my own hair clippers.

At the end of that working week, I left the barracks with my comrades and we went to a farm, far from everything. The Legion organized there in a very harsh environment the first month of training for the new Recruits. At the end of this month, we had the famous Kepi Blanc march: 60km in two days with all our kit, weapon and tent on our back. Some of us had problems but I had none so I could help my comrades.

At the end of this march, we all received our White Kepi and I had the great honor to be selected to recite the Legionnaire honor code, repeated after that by all my comrades. This ceremony was followed by a super meal. We were now full Legionnaires and no longer ordinary Recruits.

Basic training lasted for 3 more months and then came the regimental selection: each of us was called in front of the Colonel, in turns according to the marks he had obtained during this basic training. He had then to say to which regiment he wished to be sent. The Colonel decided then and that was final. I was called first, meaning that I had the best marks. The Colonel asked me:
"You have the best marks, to which regiment do you wish to be sent ?"
"Colonel, this Legionnaire would like to be sent to 2 REI."
"Legionnaire Tuberi, you are too good for that. You will serve as assistant-corporal and help your officers to train new legionnaires. After two groups of new legionnaires, you will be sent to the Corporal Course and then to 2 REI. DISMISS."
I saluted the Colonel and left the office.

In the passage my comrades asked me:
"What did you get ?"
"Assistant Corporal."
"That’s good for you."
"I hoped for a fighting situation. Like in 2 REI. I am too big for 2 REP."
But the Sergeant arrived and he told me:
"As an assistant Corporal, you will have the better pay you were dreaming of. Moreover, I know your future officer and I will tell him that you are also a good barber. So you can try again to have an additional pay."
I did the only thing possible: I blushed. And then I smiled. After all, assistant Corporal was not a bad position.

I did everything that was expected of me and apparently, I did it well: my officer liked my way of helping the new legionnaires. He also liked my way of shaving them "to the woods" and also the way I let one of my comrades shave me, telling him to leave a small patch of hair on top of my head. This was the only visible sign of my "dignity" as a legionnaire having completed the instruction.

When the first group of new legionnaires had completed its "basic instruction", all of them were sent to their respective regiments and I started with a second group … and my own clippers. I immediately started with a second group where I had the pleasure to see my friend Jean-Xavier, now Recruit Jules Michelet. He was old enough now and had been sent from Tahiti, with two others, by plane.

My first move was to greet my friend, but he knew better having spent all these months in a Legion barracks: he saluted me according to the rules and waited in the position of attention. That’s when I told him:
"Recruit Michelet, come here and sit on this chair for your regulation haircut," and I started with my clippers, leaving him shorn to the woods. The Lieutenant, who was going to lead this batch of recruits, simply said:
"Well done, Assistant Corporal, that’s the right way to treat the new Recruits."
After that, I did my job and I must say that I was really pleased to notice that my friend did well as a recruit.

At the end of their Basic Instruction, these new legionnaires were dispatched to different regiments. My friend got what he wanted: the paratrooper regiment. I had a short rest, but I was not allowed to leave the barracks, and I was sent to the Corporal course.

I finished first in my group, once again. Sergeant Kolnichev commented this fact as follows:
"My boy, you will soon be a Sergeant like me !"
I got my real name back and I was sent to 2 REI, an infantry regiment near Marseille. I started my life there as an ordinary Legion Corporal. I kept shaving my friends’ heads !

Never again, until now, did I meet my friend Jean-Xavier.

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