The Centurions

by Jean Lartéguy

He barely had time to rush to the lavatory and be sick, and he hoped that, together with all the alcohol he had drunk, he would also get rid of his present life, his financial and domestic worries, the little countess and her roofing mania, so as to recover once more that sensation of being no one.

want men who are full of hope, who want to win because they’re more fit, better trained and craftier, and who aren’t willing to throw away their lives. Yes, I want soldiers who are frightened and who care about living or dying.

Indo-China, I sold my soul: out here, I’m simply doing a job.”

“Yes, but you’ve all been trained in operational intelligence. Look upon this Algiers business as a battle that you’ve got to win at any price, the most important of your battles, even though it isn’t normal campaigning. The stakes are even higher than at Dien-Bien-Phu.

We’ve fallen into bad habits. The lads are drinking too much in order to forget what they’ve been forced to do. We’ve achieved better results than the others because we’ve wallowed in the shit more than they have. So we ought to be dragged out of it before the others: the process of disintoxication will be longer. Come on, sir, we’ve done our job, we’ve got our hands good and dirty, please let us go.”

And yet ‘they’ told us to use every means at our disposal to win that battle of Algiers.

‘This is on the side . . . We’re doing this job because your government has ordered us to, but it repels and disgusts us.’