A Hoosier in the French Foreign Legion #2
Few Americans have any connection to our military, fewer still enlist, and even smaller numbers join a special branch of a foreign country’s special forces, but that’s what Hoosier Tony Mendoza did.
Prologue
"The French Foreign Legion represents the finest example of self-sacrifice and devotion to duty in the world."- Winston Churchill
Bangui, Central African Republic- March 2001
Tall elephant grass swayed in the wind, covering the open ground. A makeshift barricade of burned-out pickup trucks and cars and a single-track dirt road lay between us and the rebel checkpoint and stronghold 500 meters ahead of our position. I'm one of a dozen men from Groupe des commandos parachutistes (English: Commando Parachute Group- GCP), the pathfinder section of the 2e Régiment étranger de parachutistes (English: 2nd Foreign Parachute Regiment- 2e REP), the only airborne regiment of the Foreign Legion in the French Army.
We huddled inside an abandoned building in war-torn Bangui, the capital of the Central African Republic (CAR). The bombed-out structure in the heart of the Bea-Rex-Kptene 92 Housing Zone served as our observation post (OP), allowing us to keep our eyes and weapons trained on the rebels.
Their position consisted of the single-lane Pont Jackson (English: Jackson Bridge)- a narrow crossing over a wadi (Arabic for a dried-up riverbed)- plus a complex concealed among the trees to the left of the bridge and two adjacent buildings they used as barracks and a command post. The city's main artery, Avenue Point Kilometre Zero (PK Zero), was the boundary between the rebel lines and those of the government forces and their French allies. It roughly divided Bangui into two zones. The narrow dirt avenue led into a housing complex. Here, the bunker gave the rebels a defensive position, a full view of the bridge and the buildings they occupied. Tonight, that rebel position is our target.
Our group leader was Capitaine (Captain) Gerard Mignon, our commander, who graduated from the École spéciale militaire de Saint-Cyr (ESM, literally the "Special Military School of Saint-Cyr"- French military academy, and is often referred to simply as St. Cyr) in 1993 and was commissioned as an infantry officer. He had extensive experience, serving abroad as a platoon leader in Bosnia and Kosovo and as the Sector West Assistant G3 for Air Operations in Lebanon.
In the sweaty and poorly lit confines of our OP, the twelve of us crowded around a series of aerial reconnaissance photos taken earlier that day by a French Air Force Jaguar, a supersonic attack jet. The images provided a vivid and detailed view of the ground we had to cover and our mission objectives. At times gesturing to specific items on the photos, Capitaine Mignon issued his mission orders: At 0200 hours, a Super Puma helicopter of the Commandement des Opérations Spéciales (English: the French Special Operations Command—COS), armed with a 20mm cannon, would engage a rebel position at the city's central power station. This action was the key objective of the operation, and it would be our cue to assault and seize Pont Jackson.
The section's Véhicule de l'Avant Blindé or VAB (English literally "Armoured Forward Vehicle"), a 14-ton armored personnel carrier, would lead the assault by ramming through the barricade and flushing out the rebels from the bunker complex and nearby buildings. Then, the VAB would advance up the main avenue of the housing complex into rebel-controlled territory. The VAB would provide covering fire from its .50-caliber machine gun. The rest of the section would follow the VAB in two soft-skinned Peugeot four-wheel drive (P4s) trucks.
Once Capitaine Mignon was sure we clearly understood our positions and responsibilities, he told us to get the vehicles and equipment prepared and positioned. The P4s were open-top convertibles armed with rear-mounted 7.62 machine guns. Individually, and depending on each team member's specialty, we were armed with an assortment of weapons, including FAMAS 5.56mm assault rifles, FN Minimi, a 5.56mm light machine gun, 9mm Beretta 92 pistols, and fragmentation and smoke grenades. I would take up the driver position behind the wheel of the first P4 following the VAB. The OP's fenced-in courtyard concealed our vehicles inside. From there, the plan was to drive and attack PK Zero.
Bangui was usually a city that buzzed with activity even at night, but that night was deathly quiet. Many residents had fled or were hiding indoors, fearful of us or of being caught by the rebels—only the odd crack of gunfire and crump of mortar explosions in the distance cut through the stillness. Ready, we sat in silence, each man wrapped in his own thoughts. The only tension displayed was the repeated glancing at our watches as the minutes ticked by, closing in on 0200 hours.
My responsibility was to follow the VAB as closely as possible to ensure maximum cover and protection for our vehicle and turret gunner. The P4 had no armor. When the VAB broke off to the right and took up an overwatch position to cover our assault, I was to break left and assault one of the rebel-held buildings. That is the theory, at least.
But all combat soldiers know one simple truth: No plan survives first contact with the enemy.
The Central African night was hot and humid. The sky was clear and starlit. I sweated under the weight of my body armor and personal webbing that held eight full 25-round magazines, two fragmentation grenades, two AC 58 anti-armor grenades, two 15-round 9mm magazines for my Beretta, and two full water bottles. We all carried a 7-inch stainless steel Maserin, a special fighting knife issued to all Legionnaires beginning in World War II. A few of us also had smaller, secondary, top-of-the-line combat knives. All personal items were left behind.
With less than a year in the parachute regiment and only two years in the Legion, I suddenly found myself shouldering a massive responsibility. My burden was not to screw up or let my teammates down. They were all more experienced than I am, with several years in the GCP and many missions and overseas deployments behind them. Adrenaline flooded my veins. I was acutely aware of my immediate environment. And I'm confident that before any of my teammates, I heard the thump of the Puma's rotor blades in the distance.
This is it! I thought. Combat!