Le Fanion de la Légion
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'Le Fanion de la Légion' (The Flag of the Legion), is a French song created in 1936 by Marie Dubas, with lyrics from Raymond Asso and music from Marguerite Monnot, and which was later taken up by Edith Piaf and became identified with her.
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[edit] The song
In all the above, the song's career is similar to that of the more famous "Mon légionnaire" - both being songs related to the French Foreign Legion and written by Raymond Asso, himself an ex-legionnaire (and who was Piaf's lover in the late 1930s).
However, in "Mon légionnaire" the Legion is seen from the outside - through the eyes of a woman who briefly meets one legionnaire and afterwards longs for him, and who has only a vague idea of the Legion's function and the places to which it is posted ("In some sunny country..."). In the present song, the Legion as such takes center stage.
The song tells the story of a small Legion outpost ("fortin" - "little fortress"), isolated in the Sahara ("The immense Bled"). Its garrison of thirty "gars" ("guys" or boys) comes under attack by a horde of "Salopards" ("Dirty Ones" or "Bastards") - evidently a derogatory term for Saharan tribespeople which Asso may have picked up while on actual service with the Legion. No backgound is given for the attack and the reasons of the "Salopards" in launching it.
The isolated Legionnaires defend their outpost most heroically, suffering staggering losses and terrible privations of hunger and thirst. By the time a column of reinforcements is finally profiled on the horizon, only three of them have survived the fierce battle: "Hungry, thirsty, half-naked, but covered with Glory." Throughout, "Le beau fanion de la légion" ("The beautiful flag of the Legion") continues to fly from the mast (no mention of the French Tricolour).
The theme is familiar from other fictional depictions of colonial wars (such as the film Zulu, based on the actual Battle of Rorke's Drift), as well as from Westerns. Though the song is set in the Sahara, Asso was likely influenced by the Battle of Camarón (1867), during the failed French attempt to prop up the regime of the Emperor Maximilian in Mexico - a major founding myth familiar to anyone who served in the Legion. At Camerone, as in Asso's song, there were only three survivors (though there, their lives were spared through their opponents' generosity).
Sung to the accompaniment of martial music of drums and trumpets, "The Flag of the Legion" can be said to glorify war in general and colonial war in particular. Though duly considered a part of the Piaf Canon and continually included in newly-printed collections of her songs, it never achieved the popularity of "Mon légionnaire".
Ironically, the Foreign Legion itself did not conspicuously take up the song (as Asso may have hoped). Rather, the Legionnaires adopted as their own a different Edit Piaf song - "Non, je ne regrette rien" (I regret nothing) - whose words in themselves have nothing to do with the Legion but came to express their defiance when accused (and not without reason) of atrocities and involvement in a failed coup d'etat during the Algerian War (see May 1958 crisis and Algiers putsch).
[edit] Lyrics
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Tout en bas, c'est le Bled immense Que domine un petit fortin. Sur la plaine, c'est le silence, Et là-haut, dans le clair matin, Une silhouette aux quatre vents jette Les notes aiguës d'un clairon, Mais, un coup de feu lui répond.
Y a trente gars dans le bastion, Torse nu, rêvant de bagarres, Ils ont du vin dans leurs bidons, Des vivres et des munitions. Ah la la la, la belle histoire. Là-haut sur les murs du bastion, Dans le soleil plane la gloire Et dans le vent claque un fanion. C'est le fanion de la légion !
Là-haut, dans le petit fortin. Depuis une longue semaine, La mort en prend chaque matin. La soif et la fièvre Dessèchent les lèvres. A tous les appels de clairon, C'est la mitraille qui répond.
Ils restent vingt dans le bastion, Le torse nu, couverts de gloire, Ils n'ont plus d'eau dans leurs bidons Et presque plus de munitions. Ah la la la, la belle histoire, Claquant au vent sur le bastion Et troué comme une écumoire, Il y a toujours le fanion, Le beau fanion de la légion !
Les "salopards", vers le fortin Se sont glissés comme des hyènes Ils ont lutté jusqu'au matin : Hurlements de rage, Corps à corps sauvages, Les chiens ont eu peur des lions. Ils n'ont pas pris la position.
Ils restent trois dans le bastion, Le torse nu, couverts de gloire, Sanglants, meurtris et en haillons, Sans eau ni pain, ni munitions. Ah la la la, la belle histoire, Ils sont toujours dans le bastion Mais ne peuvent crier victoire : On leur a volé le fanion, Le beau fanion de la légion !
Des renforts arrivent enfin. A l'horizon, une colonne Se profile dans le matin Et l'echo répète l'appel des trompettes Qui monte vers le mamelon. Un cri de là-haut lui répond.
Les trois qui sont dans le bastion, Sur leurs poitrines toutes noires Avec du sang prénom de nom Ont dessiné de beaux fanions. Ah la la la, la belle histoire, Ils peuvent redresser leurs fronts Et vers le ciel crier victoire. Au garde-a-vous sur le bastion, Ils gueulent "présent la légion." |
All below, there is the immense desert That a little fort dominates. On the plain, there is silence And above, in the bright morning A silhouette throws to the four winds The sharp notes of a bugle, But a gunshot responds.
There are thirty guys in the bastion, Naked torsos, dreaming of brawls, They have wine in their canteens, Victuals and munitions. Ah la la la, the beautiful story. Above on the bastion walls In the sun glory hovers And in the wind a pennant flaps It is the pennant of the legion!
Above, in the little fort, For a long week, Death has taken some every morning. Thirst and fever Dry out lips. To all calls of the bugle Firing responds.
Twenty remain in the bastion, Naked torsos, covered in glory, They have no more water in their canteens And almost no munitions. Ah la la la, the beautiful story, Flapping in the wind over the bastion, And full of holes like a skimmer, There is still the pennant, The beautiful pennant of the legion!
The bastards toward the fort Glided like hyenas They struggled until morning Shouts of rage Wild hand-to-hand combats The dogs were afraid of the lions They did not take the position
Three remain in the bastion Naked torsos, covered in glory, Bloody, battered and in rags, Without water or bread or munitions. Ah la la la, the beautiful story, They are still in the bastion But they cannot cry victory; Someone has stolen the pennant, The beautiful pennant of the legion!
Reinforcements finally arrive. On the horizon, a column Is profiled in the morning And the echo repeats the trumpets' call Which mounts toward the hillock. A cry from above responds.
The three who are in the bastion On their blackened chests With blood, first name of name, Have drawn beautiful pennants. Ah la la la, the beautiful story They can raise their head up And cry victory to the sky. Standing to attention atop the bastion, They shout "The legion is here!" |
[edit] See also
- French Foreign Legion in popular culture
- Colonial war
- Jacques Brel's song Zangra (also inspired by Dino Buzzati's The Tartar Steppe)
