Soldier or psychologist, what's best: 1 by thadeusz

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The Borstal

My name is Andrew Tremmer. My father, John Tremmer was a Canadian born in Montreal. He studied hard and became MD. He later went to Paris to specialize in Neurology. There, he met my mother, a french girl name Marie Kerveleck. They got married in Paris and later on moved to Wellington, in New Zealand. My father chose to remain Canadian, which made me also Canadian.

When I was one year old, my parents decided to go back to Canada because of my father’s aging parents. My parents had their first children rapidly. After a few years, they had two boys and two girls. They were pleased with this situation. 12 years later, I arrived "unexpectedly". My birth was considered as an "accident", but also as a sort of "miracle". That’s why my mother let me do more or less what I wanted.

My mother’s parents, unluckily, died soon after I was born. My only remaining grandparent was my father’s mother who lived in Canada. My parents then decided to settle in Toronto.

Apparently, I was very intelligent but also very lazy. I did not want to study. I also had rather long and shaggy black hair. My mother did not cut the hair of her last child despite my Father’s opposition. When I started grade 6, my father required that I first went to a real men’s barber. My mother took me to what my father was ready to accept as "a real barber for men".

I had to wait until the only chair was free. It was a large red leather and chrome chair. The main problem seemed to be the fact that I was too small for the barber. This man, a thick and ugly person, had his hair completely shaved. He seemed to be used to these situations and simply placed a plank on the armchairs of the chair and raised me to let me sit on it. He then took scissors and a comb. With the comb, he arranged my hair so that all of them were now descending from the top of my head. He reorganized them in order to have them really neatly arranged. He then started cutting with his scissors so that it was as if he had placed a bowl on my head and cut all the hair that came out of it. That took him a certain time and I didn’t like what I could see while he was working. When he was satisfied, he took smaller scissors and cut everything around my ears, leaving me thus with an inverted bowl with two holes. Finally he took clippers to shave the excessive hair, that’s what he told my mother. He shaved again around the ears and even worse he reduced my neck to a desert.

All that took him a long time, I could not evaluate exactly: I had no watch then. I looked at the "new me" and I did not like this image: no longer foolish hair all around my head. I felt completely ridiculed with such a haircut.

That’s when my mother gave what for me was the "coup de grace". She paid the barber and said:
"My son Andrew will come back every week on Saturday afternoon. Whatever he asks you, please disregard it and give him exactly the same haircut as today."

I was thus 10 years old and I felt really ridiculed. Luckily, my parents enrolled me in a scout troop and I received a nice green uniform. We had pleasant activities and I really started to like that. One day, I suddenly realized that most boys in my troop had a haircut very similar to mine. This comforted me.

My scout troop had a big project: we chose to help young handicapped children in a home near Chicago, in the US. This was started during the Christmas holidays. It was now more than simply having fun together, but having a real purpose in life together. Well, it was not a huge purpose, but it was something already. We went by bus from Toronto and stayed several days in Chicago: a big adventure. We repeated that during the following holidays, including a big part of our summer holidays. I was happy and studying well.

When I reached 14, I had to move to another school. I didn't really like it there, I felt abandoned now that I was far from my scout troop. I stopped studying well, trying to let time pass so that I could enlist in the Army, a new idea.

In my new school, I met a group of young people who tried to impose their law on each new student. They formed a closed group, a sort of gang. They told me that I could join their group provided I accomplished what they called a "DARE". Their chief, a certain Charles, told me to steal the car of one of our teachers and to drive it. I thought that it was a good idea and an easy thing to do: the teacher in question always left all his keys on his desk while teaching.

I stole the keys while another member of the gang distracted the attention of our teacher. With that I opened the car and tried to drive it. I knew how to put the engine on, but that was it: I crashed the car on a nearby tree without other damages than a broken wheel. I escaped and tried to hide in my parents home, but the police made a short inquest and I was arrested the same evening. That day, I spent the night in a cell in the police station.

The next morning, I was brought in front of a juvenile judge. At first, this judge seemed very kind. He described in his adult words what I had done, the damage I had caused and the possible consequences of driving without license at such a young agThe next morning, before breakfast, I was brought in front of a juvenile judge. At first, this judge e. I chose to look very sad and full of remorse. The judge asked me if I understood the seriousness of my "crime" as he called it and I said "Yes, your honor". Then he asked me:
"Why did you do that ?"
"To be accepted in a group of boys in my school, sir."
"You mean it was a ‘DARE’ in order to be accepted in a sort of gang ?"
"Yes."
"And who was the leader of that group ?"
"I don’t remember his name", this was a lie but my "honor" forbade me to give the name of a comrade who was another potential culprit.
But the judge continued:
"Do you realize that you refuse to cooperate with the Justice, my boy ?"
"Sir, I really don’t remember his name. I only know that he threatened to beat me if I did not obey his orders."
"So you were threatened. Is that the reason why you studied so badly ?"
"Maybe sir, I missed the discipline of my scout group."
"Well", concluded the Judge, "we are going to give you discipline and education. You are sentenced to stay 5 years in a Borstal with strict discipline. You might be allowed to go out after 4 years, provided you have then your GED. If not you will stay there until you have your diploma or have spent 5 years without any single day of liberty, but with a strict discipline. Should you become disruptive, I could extend your stay there and also send you to adult prison … unless you mention now the name of the boy who was the leader of that group."
"I really don’t remember sir."
The Judge’s gavel fell on his table making a loud "BANG" and he repeated:
"Five years in a borstal with strict discipline and not a single day out."

Part 2 : The Borstal

I was immediately brought back to my little cell where I had to wait for two more days, without the possibility to change clothes and, worse, without the possibility to speak to anybody, not even my parents. I was fed of course, but prison food was certainly not as good as my mother’s.

On the third day, I was handcuffed and led to a van where I was attached to a rail on the side: I was really a prisoner now. I still did not know where my parents were, nor if they knew what was happening to me. I was not the only boy on this van, but we were told by a guard to keep quiet … and the three of us obeyed that order, barked at us by a man in uniform.

We arrived at a big and sad building surrounded by a high wall with on the top what looked like a barbed wire fence. It really looked like a prison.

The three of us were immediately sent to the barber who told us at the very start:
"Today, we are going to make sure you don’t have lice. So we are going to shave you completely. And when I say completely, I mean completely. That will not happen again. Now, I'll start with you", and he pointed towards me.

He made me sit on a big armchair without cushions: it had only planks. He strapped me to the chair and started to shave my head, rapidly and efficiently. It was uncomfortable but I survived it. It was a relatively fast shave, in fact I was shorn to the woods. Suddenly, the barber stopped: he looked satisfied. He unstrapped me and I wanted to go further, especially since he had not capped me and my clothes were full of hair. But the Barber stopped me and sent me to one of his assistants.

The assistant told me to undress and to walk with him to a big table. There he told me to lie on that table. He then strapped my feet and hands to the table and he started to completely shave my body. First my chest, then under my armpits and finally in what I considered as my very private and personal parts. It took this assistant a few minutes more than the barber had needed to shave my head, but when he was done, I was completely hairless. I was also in the nude, not even with socks.

I was unstrapped and the Barber told me:
"You will come back for a short haircut every two weeks."
Let me mention here that every time I had to go to the Barber, I was strapped to his chair, officially to keep my hands out of his way, but I never understood why since I was not a rebellious cadet.
The barber then told one of his assistants: "Get the rest done."

I can mention here that our haircut was usually a simple one : white walled on the sides, but about ¼ of an inch left on top. Later, I graduated to a nice buzz cut. There were 3 exceptions: every time I was punished and caned, I got a zero cut all over !

This first time, the Barber told me to wait there and the assistant came to handcuff me in my back as before, but in the nude ! I felt very bad. When the two others had been done in the same way, the Barber marched us to another room. There we were disinfected with a special powder and sent to a shower, which was a cold water shower. We had to stay there for 10 minutes in order to make sure that all the hair was gone from our body. Since we could not use our hands to clean ourselves, an assistant used a sort of hose to clean everything.

When the three of us had been cleaned, the Barber gave each of us a piece of cloth serving as bath towel and he told us:
"I will let my assistants unshackle you in order to let you get dry."

When that was done, the Barber marched us, still in the nude, to another room full of clothes. Each of us received white underwear in a rough material, a red overall which had been prepared for us, with our name and prisoner number in the front and the letters DOC in black on our back. There were also white socks and red plastic clogs. My number was 214.573 and I was told to memorize it immediately.

I was really frightened by everything that happened to me, my special haircut included. I had not seen my parents for several days and … I was really hungry. The handcuffs and shackles had been painful, the straps also and the shaving of my body, especially of my private parts, had been especially humiliating. Now, the three of us had to follow a guard we had never seen before going towards our cells. The fact that we would from now on live in cells was no fun !

A guard led us towards our "cell", opened the door and told us to enter. We had three adjacent cells and each of them looked rather comfortable. There was one single and small window, provided with bars since we were no longer free boys. There was a bed, rather hard, but provided with one bed sheet, one military looking cover and one military style pillow. There was also one wash bowl and one toilet. The most important part of the cell was occupied by a desk and his chair. There were lots of light. The guard locked each of us inside a cell and told each of us that the director would visit us before the night. I was more and more hungry, but I did not dare say so: I was only 14 and, as soon as the guard had locked me alone in my cell, I sprang on the bed and started to weep. My only comfort was that I was no longer strapped and that I had no handcuffs anymore.

I was left alone during a certain time which I could not measure: I had no watch and no phone anymore. Suddenly the door opened and a tall man entered my small room. He was wearing the same uniform as the other warden, except that he had three stripes on his chest and on each of his sleeves. He sat on the only chair while I was still on the bunk serving as bed and he said very calmly:
"I am the director of this institution where you will progress towards good citizenship. You are cadet 214.573. When a cadre speaks to you, you must stand up and stand in the position of attention. EXECUTION NOW."
I knew what the position of attention meant, so in order to show my good will I stood up and looked politely at the director who continued:
"You started a new life here today and that will probably last for five years. The aim is not to transform you into a number, but to let you be again a good citizen. I will thus call you by your first name, except when your behavior requires a severe punishment. And that will be a corporal punishment."
The director then explained what were the rules: waking up early on the bugle, cleaning the room and cleaning myself, getting ready for morning inspection, physical training in the main courtyard, having breakfast with the other cadets in the main refectory. After that life started to be more isolated: it was back to my cell and studying until noon and the second refectory. During the afternoon there would be two long periods of study time in my cell interrupted by another period of physical training in the main courtyard. For the evening, we had a third refectory rather early at 5 pm followed by chores: cleaning and ironing our clothes and, for the cadets on duty, cleaning the common passages and the refectory. If there was time left, it should be devoted to study, study and more study. I did not like that, I liked sports and wanted to become a soldier.

The director ended his short speech by the following:
"The tests you have taken while at school show that you can get your GED. So you are temporarily dispensed of technical or professional training, but if you don’t make progress you will simply be flogged in front of your comrades cadets-prisoners. UNDERSTOOD Andrew ?"
There was only one possible answer:
"Yes Sir."
"Here you say, ‘YES Captain’ with a loud and firm voice. Don’t forget, at a certain time, it will be lights out. You MUST then be in your bed. Guards will check on you regularly by the little opening in the cell door."
And he showed me a little opening the guards would use to check regularly on me. I did not realize it then, but this "checking" was also meant to make sure no cadet was trying to escape or … to commit suicide."

After this, the Director, or Captain as he wanted the Cadets to call him, left my cell leaving me alone. The position of the sun showed that it was starting to be late. Suddenly, the door opened and another warden in uniform told me:
"Get out. It is ‘third mess’ time."
I followed him, but he told me that I had to stand in front of my cell and then start to follow the others while marching in step. It was a new and strange world for me. I was furious at the people who forced me to do all that, I did not realize yet that in fact I was responsible since I had tried to be accepted in a gang at school. The food was decent, but dinner time was short and a whistle warned us that it was time to place our food trays back on a pile and to get ready to march in step back to our cells.

As soon as I was in my cell, the door was closed and locked by a guard who just told me:
"Study time. If you don’t have books yet, prepare your clothes for tomorrow."
I decided to do nothing of the sort and chose to lay on my bed, crying again about my lost freedom and my lost TV series. Suddenly the bugle made its awful noise and it was sleeping time.

I kept moaning until I fell asleep after having mentally decided that as soon as I would be free, I would try to kill the Judge, the guards and especially the Captain.

Suddenly the bugle sound could be heard everywhere. I realized that it was morning and I tried to get ready with a completely crumpled uniform: I had slept with it.

I followed the others for all the visible activities, but once I was back in my cell, I decided that I would not study: a future soldier did not need to study. A guard with two stripes suddenly entered my small space and noticed that I was not studying. He tried to help me with books and advice, but I told him that I refused to study.

During the afternoon sport recess, the Captain called me and asked me:
"Did you study today, Andrew ?"
"NO, and I don’t want to study."
"GOOD. You will get 5 of the cane NOW."
Another guard got hold of me, undid my overalls in front of the other cadets-detainees, attached my wrists to a horizontal bar fixed on a wall, adjusted the actual height at which the bar was to my size and started to cane me with a lot of energy and a great dexterity. The Captain spoke again:
"If you keep refusing to study, caning will continue. The same will happen if you keep coming here with a crumpled uniform. The two forms of caning can be added if needed. Next step will be shackles and handcuffs."

I must say now that I have never seen a shackled cadet in that Borstal, but it was a good way to let me fear this punishment. As far as I was concerned, I was caned three more times during my first year for study and discipline problems, and then it stopped: I had been satisfactorily drilled.

After that, I decided to start studying as well as I could. Specialized tutors came several times a day inside each cell and helped the cadets to grasp new notions. I must admit that I learned much better. But the discipline, the caning when I had not sufficiently worked a given subject and the individualized help given by the tutors helped me a lot. I think they also helped the other cadets who had been placed in this Borstal.

I obtained my GED during the very beginning of my 5th year in the Borstal. I was then interviewed by the Captain about my plans for a fruitful future and I told him that I wanted to learn a good and useful trade. I had seriously progressed. I also learned to have good contacts with the other cadets thanks to the common sport sessions, to the meals we had to take in common and the cleaning-ironing sessions we also had in common.

So despite a total lack of freedom, I learned to live in a large but disciplined group. I was now a polite, well drilled cadet: the world was for me.

The Captain told me to come into his office. He asked me:
"Andrew, Cadet 214.573, what do you want to do now in this Borstal ?"
I was standing in front of him in the position of attention and I said:
"Captain, could I freely go home now?"
"Certainly not. You have been sentenced to five years minimum with the possibility to extend it if you did not get your GED. Not to reduce it. So you must stay. What do you want to study now ?"
I remained pensive, wondering what I might wish to study now and suddenly I had an idea:
"Captain, this cadet would like to start studying psychology provided he does not have to stay here until he gets his degree."
The Captain laughed and simply told me to go to the Barber to get a short buzz cut. That was how my program for my last months as a cadet in this Borstal was defined.

3. Trying to join the Army

On the very day when I turned 19, I was freed from the Borstal. My parents, who had not had the right to visit me nor to write to me, were finally present. A Lieutenant of the Borstal introduced himself as Psychologist of the institution. He said that he had considered that it would be better to let me grow without any contact with my family.

Immediately after that I went to the closest recruiting office: I really wanted to join the Army. Notes were taken and I was told that an inquest would be organized. The recruiting officer made many notes of my answers to his questions and then he made me take several physical and mental tests. He concluded as follows:
"All your tests are good. I will make a report for my superiors and I expect them to approve your candidature. Come back in one week for the official answer and the incorporation date."

I came back exactly one week later, but the recruiting officer told me:
"The Army checked on your past. You have been sentenced to 5 years detention. You are thus a security risk and cannot enlist. Sorry for you: your other tests were good but this is final."
"But this detention was only in a Borstal to make me study well and get my highschool diploma"
"First you only got a GED and second it was in any case a detention after a judgment and a judicial sentence."
"Is there nothing I can do ? Being a soldier was my dream during these years in my cell in the Borstal."
"So you now confess that you were in a cell ? Well the only thing you can do is try to join the French Foreign Legion or forget about becoming a soldier."
After these words, the recruiter told me to leave the premises, which I did.

I thought about everything the recruiter had told me: I was "at risk" and would never be accepted in the Canadian Army, the Army of my country. But I wanted to become a soldier ! Of course there was another option: joining the ranks of the Legion, the mythical Foreign Legion with its fights in the Desert. Of course that would be under the French flag, and not my own. But I would still be a soldier and I would wear the coveted Legion uniform. That’s what decided me !

I worked a little bit in a grocery shop in order to have a little bit of money and I told my parents that I was getting ready to study further. I explained to them that I had chosen Psychology as my field of study. They were happy about my choice.

Finally, I told them that I wanted to make a trip to the West Coast before joining a University in our town. My father was very happy about that choice and gave me a little bit of money for my short trip.

In fact I went to New York where I joined the crew of a ship going to Le Havre. I had succeeded to join the ship team as a cabin boy and was even paid for my trip. Needless to say, I did not really enjoy the sea or the trip: I was working hard as a server. Once in Le Havre, I told my direct chief that this job was too hard for me and that I was sick. Obviously the commandant had strict instructions: no sick personnel on board. He told me to leave the ship and go to the nearest hospital. I considered this as an accepted resignation. I left the ship and entered France more or less legally.

I immediately went to Paris by train, that was my major expense after the trip to New York. In Paris I went to Fort de Nogent where I arrived in the afternoon. There I simply went in and said:
"I am here to enlist in the Foreign Legion."
I gave over all my papers and most of my money, in any case I didn’t have much ! I got a new name : Alan Thorwald and a new Matricule number : 201.375. This had nothing to do with my old number as a prisoner in the Borstal. This was my identity number as a new legionnaire. Well, temporarily only as a candidate legionnaire ! But I was convinced that I would easily pass all the tests.

The first test, in Paris, was showing that I was able to do enough pull ups to satisfy the Corporal looking after the candidates. I passed brilliantly. I then got my second test: perfectly clean the courtyard of the fort while the other candidates were looking at me and making jokes about the way I was using the broom. Luckily, I had learned to use the broom in a proper way while I was in the Borstal.

We all got food and the food was decent, not the rich French food I had hoped we would get, but something very satisfactory. In any case it was better than the food I got in the Borstal but not as good as the meals I had while on my ship.

Two days after my arrival, we were transported to another barrack, it said 1 RE on the gate and as far as I could guess it was in Aubagne, in the South. I still had rather long hair: I had refused that my mother cut them as she wanted to do and nobody on my ship required that.

In this new barracks, there were more tests. We were all clad in blue training. There were also interviews with an officer. I had to explain why I wanted to join the Legion, why I did not choose my own country's Army and when I had answered these questions I had to explain why I had been sent to a Borstal for five years. There was another interview with another officer who asked the same questions and really wanted to know why I had refused to give the name of the head of our little gang. I told him that if I had done that, the rest of the gang would have never agreed to speak with me again. Then came the nasty question:
"Candidate Thorwald, would you do the same if you are accepted in the Legion ?"
My answer was rather spontaneous:
"NO Sir, I have had five years, in more or less isolation, to think about this and I now realize that my chiefs must know about such events."
After that there were no more questions, but only one task: cleaning the barracks with everything that was needed for this "very military" action.

Finally, we were all assembled in a courtyard and the names of those selected were called. I was one of them.

4. Legionnaire finally

We were first led to a room where a legionnaire, working as a barber, shaved each of us. It was worse than even the first time in Borstal. Here it was an energetic shaving to the woods during which the so called barber did not take any precaution for our comfort. He treated us like toys and moved our heads in all possible directions in order to be comfortable. His haircut was a short buzz cut, but he was not shorn to the woods like we were. Well, this was probably part of the process to become a legionnaire.

We then went to the clothing store where we received our uniforms in exchange for our blue training. I received, with my comrades, my legionnaire uniform and all the things going with it: green beret was the first element of my uniform after my BDU. Then came the parade uniform and the outing uniform. There was also a green tie and green socks. I did not like that color, but as of now it was MY color, with the khaki of my parade uniform and the greenish color full of spots used for my BDU. There were also heavy big shoes, very high. Finally, we all had the opportunity to try our White Kepi, the "Képi Blanc" which we were not allowed to wear before the end of instruction.

I may have behaved boyishly, but I was very proud of my uniform and my new haircut !

I did not know that my parents had asked a private detective to start a search: they were anxious and wanted to know whether I was alive or dead, and if I was alive (which is what they hoped) they wanted to know where I was.

I did the first month of instruction, which is gruesome, and I did it well. I received my White Kepi and was now a real legionnaire. I still had three more months of instruction ahead of me, but my parents found me. My mother came and reminded me that it was still time for me to resign from the Legion: I could do that since I had joined less than 6 months before. She made all kinds of promises and I nearly accepted. But she used the wrong words. She said:
"Be a good boy and come with me!"
I was no longer a "boy", I was a full legionnaire so I refused her offer. After that I was definitely blocked in the Legion for 5 years.

to be continued

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