Memoirs of the Foreign Legion by Maurice Magnus

ON the Saturday, following my arrival, about fifteen of us were marched off to the Gare des Brotteaux of Lyons at 7 a.m. to leave for Valbonne.

The only possible person to talk to in my room at Lyons was a young Bulgarian, Alexander Stojanoff. We had become friends the first few days. He had studied law in Geneva and Paris, had lived most of his life in Paris, and when the war broke out, his family having removed from Bulgaria to Roumania, owing to their pro-Ally sentiments, he had entered the Legion to show his own enthusiasm and loyalty for the French cause. He had been to the front, had been wounded several times, and finally received a wound on his right arm which would not heal. Although well built, he was not strong, and in spite of his healthy and fresh complexion I believe he was consumptive. He seemed to have plenty of money, which he received from his people in Roumania. He was only twenty-five years old and had shown great valour, which was rewarded by a _croix de guerre_ with a palm. He was on his way to Valbonne for a "rest," since his arm did not permit him to return to the front. He did not want to go to Valbonne, told me it was a dreadful place, and the last time that he had been there, although not yet sufficiently trained, he went to the Colonel, fell at his feet, and implored him to send him to the front immediately, as he could not possibly endure the life at Valbonne any longer. The description he gave of Valbonne seemed incredible and I thought he was exaggerating, and that his imagination supplied the extravagances. He was a sensitive well-bred person, and naturally any decently brought up individual would revolt at what I had seen, but what he described was infinitely worse.