Why did they asked for you by name?

I have never been good at writing letters. The truth is I have always hated it, as far as I can remember. Even, when I was a kid, my mother had a hard time to make me write thank you letters after I spent several days of my vacations at one of my cousins'house, what is called in French a "lettre de château".

During the 10 months I spent in the south Pacific in French Polynesia, I did not write more than 2 letters to my parents.

My mother had a brother who was a Captain in the French Navy. At the time he was head of Communications at the French Navy Headquarters in Paris. The Navy had just establish a new world wide radio channel to be used for some kind of emergencies, I don't remember the details.

One day, we received a message from the Navy Hearquarters indicating that, to try out this new radio channel from the south Pacific, I was personally to call Paris and to ask to speak to Captain Yves D..., my uncle.

Needless to say the Commanding Officer of the Trieux was very surprised: "Why did they asked for you by name?"

So, I explained that it was probably to ask how I was doing and to tell me to write letters to my parents, that were becoming anxious to learn from me.

So, I called and spoke to my uncle, and it turned out that my guess was correct.

Sir, there is a ship in sight

The year was 1971. I was 22. I was a Sub-Lieutenant (Enseigne de Vaisseau de 1ere Classe) on my first post on a landing ship, the "BDC Trieux", roughly equivalent to the American LSTs of World War II.

The Trieux was stationed in Papeete, Tahiti, and we were transporting various goods between Papeete, Mururoa and Hao.

The Commanding Officer had recently changed after I arrived to take my post in July 1971.

On every French Navy ship, there is a document called "Ordres Permanents du Commandant" (Permanent Orders of the Commanding Officer). This document is modified from time to time by each successive CO, to adapt to the regulations, the circumstances, or to the preferences of the current CO. In this document on the Trieux, it was prescribed that whenever there was a ship in sight, the watch officer was to tell the CO. The reason is that the South Pacific is an empty part of the oceans and it was very rare to cross another ship, Nay or merchant. Obviously, for the previous CO, it was a rare entertainment to see a ship in these empty waters.

I was the watch officer and at around 2AM, we detected a ship on the radar, then we saw its lights. So, as prescribed, I took the telephone and I called the CO. He came to the bridge, took his binoculars and saw that indeed there was a ship in sight.

Then he asked me why I had called him. I indicated that I was following the permanent orders.

The next day, in the morning, he changed the permanent orders so that he would not be waken up for every ship that we would cross. I am sure that he also read carefully the permanent orders document, that obviously he had not done previously.

Pour la pirogue, c'est Augustin!

The year was 1970. I was an ensign in the French Navy on the helicopter carrier "Jeanne d'Arc" that served as school for French Navy officers.

We were in Dakar, Senegal. We had rented a car and were going to visit a fishing village that was supposed to be very "pittoresque".

We turned the last bend in the road and suddenly, we were surrounded by a dozen young boys 8 to 12 years old. They were all speaking simultaneously (or rather shouting), and the first sentence we heard was: "Pour la pirogue, c'est Augustin." (for the pirogue, it's Augustin)

These young boys were working for their older brothers who were renting pirogues. I am sure that Augustin was one of the "piroguiers" we used.

After more than forty years, I still see the scene in my mind: a dozen black boys that looked like they were attacking our car with the battle cry "Pour la pirogue, c'est Augustin."