Memoirs of the Foreign Legion by Maurice Magnus

THE village of Valbonne has two streets, one running up from the railway station to a cross road, which is at the same time the highway to Lyons and Switzerland. The restaurants, shops and drinking places live on the soldiers. Another French regiment was stationed in our camp, so that there were several thousand soldiers who could be considered as customers of the villagers. The prices in the restaurants were absurdly high considering the bad food, the poor service, the soiled table linen, and the meagre portions, but there was no competition, so the soldiers had no choice and had to pay. It was nothing short of extortion, and these were the loyal patriotic French people with their cries and shouts of _Vive la France_ and _Vive la Patrie_, who, when it came to money and profit, robbed their own compatriots and the very men who were fighting for them and their so-called _Liberté, Eglité, Fraternité_.

The camp was large and was really a town in itself. A big barn-like building of wood, containing some tables and chairs, was used during the day by the soldiers as a writing and reading-room, and on Sunday nights it was used for theatrical performances, given by some of the soldiers who had talent, for the amusement of their comrades. The programme consisted mostly of songs, juggling tricks and funny sketches. The French version of "It's a long way to Tipperary" struck me as the funniest, with the refrain of "Oh yes, oh yes" in English.