I never was, and still am not, favourable to Africa; I think that Africa is a fatal present which the [Bourbon] Restoration has given us.1
—Marshal Bugeaud, Speech to Chamber of Deputies, June 8, 1838
Marshal Thomas Bugeaud’s statement, coming 125 years before the end of France’s debilitating and divisive mid-twentieth century counterinsurgency campaign in Algeria, proved prophetic. The campaign shared many of the characteristics of others conducted in the postwar “withdrawal from Empire” in that it was protracted, involved a multicultural and multiethnic mélange of forces, and was influenced by both internal and external factors. On one side, it was portrayed as a just war of liberation and ostensibly fueled by a belief in a wider purpose: in this case, pan-Arab nationalism rather than the great specter that was Communist expansionism. As ever, the Clausewitzian center of gravity was a largely indigenous population, but in the case of Algeria one critical factor was to govern the degree to which all players engaged in, and with, the insurgency: Algeria was not an adjacent colony, Algeria was France. While the demographic, economic, and cultural indicators seem, at first pass, to suggest that one might be justified in considering this a convenient fiction, to do so would be to dismiss the passion this condition aroused on both sides of the Mediterranean and the fundamental impact it had upon the nature of the conflict. Thus, those countering the insurgency, and especially those elements of the French military who were directly engaged, were not fighting to retain a colony; they were fighting on home soil to retain three départements of France.
Estimates of the cost of the Algerian War, both human and financial, vary considerably, but the Algerian Constitution of 1963 records the losses at 1.5-million victims: 500,000 killed or disappeared and 1 million wounded or injured. These figures include losses incurred in the immediate postwar blood-letting, but French sources quote French military losses as being 24,614, of which 15,583 were directly attributable to fighting or terrorist attacks. To this must be added 450 French soldiers who were taken prisoner and never accounted for as well as 64,985 wounded. Civilian losses were assessed in 1962 as being 2,788 French and 16,378 Algerians killed and 7,541 French and 13,619 Algerians injured. The civilian “disappeared” totals were given as 375 and 18,296 respectively. These figures do not include those French killed or wounded after the cease-fire, which the French government assessed as being 3,018. French sources show their security forces inflicting in the order of 141,000 losses on the insurgents. Research by Meynier suggests that between 35,000 and 65,000 Algerian civilian casualties were killed or injured during French military operations.2
This critical battle came at a time when France was in political turmoil, again plagued by what many deemed an unworkable and inefficient constitution. To this political instability was added a frustrated and recently defeated army, which deemed itself to have been betrayed in Indochina by its own government and France’s allies. The internal divisions within the army were already deeply entrenched, but these tensions were to be exacerbated when the professional, non-metropolitan (that is, mainland French) core that was La Coloniale, La Legion, and l’Armée d’Afrique was required to absorb Le Contingent, predominantly reluctant conscripts sent to Algeria to participate in what, to them, looked suspiciously like a colonial war. This reinforcement moved the character of the army in Algeria from an all-professional cadre to an army that reflected the politics and concerns of the wider nation. These often ran counter to those commanding in Algeria. The result was an army that felt increasingly disengaged from its political masters and became increasingly parochial and self-serving in its outlook. It was within the constraints of this complex and contradictory environment that the French army was to fight a campaign, which, while delivering military success, was to ultimately founder on the rocks of political ineptitude. In delivering military success, France’s soldiers departed from a long tradition of playing a key role in the delivery of la mission civilisatrice through the use of “cultured force.” In adopting the pragmatism that underpinned the new doctrine of guerre révolutionnaire, French commanders, in the absence of clear political direction, opted instead for the tactic of brute force. This was met with uncompromising resistance from the insurgents and was to bring severe consequences as the army grew increasingly estranged from its masters and threatened to bridge from loyalty to rebellion. In short, the 1952–64 Algerian campaign was to become the straw that very nearly broke the back of the French army.
Bugeaud’s cautionary words were proof of the profound pragmatism that governed the approach of his generation of colonial soldier-administrators. As Singer and Landon suggest, he was reflecting the very real fear that Algeria would become France’s new “ulcer,” creating the same engrenage,3 which had at first drawn and then enmeshed Napoleon on the Iberian Peninsula some 20 years earlier. He spoke with authority, having served in Spain, winning a reputation as a very competent exponent of the art of counter-guerrilla warfare. His career saw him bridge from the upheaval of Revolutionary France, through the Napoleonic Wars (including Austerlitz and Waterloo), to the Restoration. Bugeaud and his generation, including philosophical fellow travelers such as Faideherbe, Lyautey, and Gallieni, represented a class of officers who were experienced, self-made colonial polymaths who were confident in their ability to stand astride the turbulent politico-military interface that governed French political and strategic thought. While very much within the French establishment, they also stood apart from it in terms of a strong adherence to their right to exercise independent action in the absence of clear direction. In fact, direction was often not sought to avoid the possibility of unwanted constraints. This generation embraced independence but did so within a clearly understood and deeply held set of core beliefs. France’s mission civilisatrice would blend the commercial, social, and political imperatives driving colonialism to deliver benefits to both the colonizer and the colonized. Of course, resistance was to be expected, but the careful, considered, and efficient use of force would aid rather than constrain the wider aim. This was the essence of the philosophy of “cultured force”: force used in support of a wider national strategic policy that was both coherent and sustainable. The military’s role was one subjugated to an all-embracing political strategy.
Bugeaud was to oversee the golden period of French occupation of Algeria, pacifying the country during a protracted campaign. Promoted to Général du Brigade in 1831 and taking a seat in the Chamber of Deputies in 1833, where he advocated an isolationist approach to foreign policy, he first arrived in Algeria to assume temporary command of a corps in 1836. He was required by a government and an army to reach back to his Peninsula counter-guerrilla experience to quell rebellion in the vast, relatively ungoverned space of the arid Algerian hinterland. Having winnowed out incompetents (including the ruthless Wellingtonian treatment of “whingers”) who wrote home to well-connected contacts in the Métropole (mainland France), he retrained his army and delivered almost immediate success against the rebel forces led by the redoubtable and endurable Abd el-Kader. Recognizing the nature of the war he was fighting, Bugeaud accepted that it would be protracted and require a multi-strand approach. He was to stick rigidly to this concept, mixing a paternalistic approach to those who submitted with an unremitting ruthlessness with those who did not. He returned to Algeria in February 1841, having been assigned the post of governor general. Bugeaud grew the colonial forces from some 63,000 in 1841 to a force that was to total over 100,000 by the time France had brought el-Kader to heel in November 1845. The campaign was protracted in both military and political terms and often saw Bugeaud at odds with Paris and the growing European settler presence who were themselves at odds with the indigenous population. He resigned in May 1847, frustrated by the government’s unwillingness to pay the military costs associated with full security and their inability to understand the requirement for a realistic political settlement with the local population. In so doing, this competent, experienced soldier-administrator firmly placed his finger on the eternal Algerian challenge. There was much to attract the French, but there was a price to pay. That price could be mitigated by enlightened, pan-stakeholder policies, but the future development of Algeria, set against the backdrop of deep political instability, was to come very close to producing the very outcome that Bugeaud had predicted in 1838. Algeria was to become more than an “ulcer”; it was to develop into a disease that proved fatal to the Fourth Republic.
The fact that the French army delivered tactical and operational success but lost at the strategic level underscores the key requirement that any counterinsurgency operation must meet: that of providing the space within which an acceptable and enduring political solution can be established. The arbiter of that success is the population itself; thus, it is the population’s fidelity that must be won and sustained. Those willing to challenge and then usurp the authority of those in government must, in their turn, wrest the loyalty of the people away from that established authority. As in every counterinsurgency campaign, Algeria would be won or lost on the battleground that was the population. Therein lay the eternal problem. Like many other countries, the population of Algeria was not unitary in nature but rather a complex amalgam of tribes, ethnicities, and cultures. This complexity was the product of a range of historical, geographical, and religious factors upon which were overlaid domestic, national, regional, and international influences.
The pre-campaign history of Algeria serves to illustrate this complexity. Algeria post-Bugeaud was pacified but far from homogenous. France’s Third Republic (1870–1940) affirmed the decision to adopt democratic secularism as the model for government but did not produce model government. The period of the Third Republic is best characterized as a series of unstable and ever-changing governments where the only aspect of continuity was the reappearance of the same faces in a seemingly endless series of administrations. The legacy of defeat in 1870 had created an inherent tension within France: isolationism coupled with colonialism produced a France that while outwardly confident was suffering a crisis of self-belief, which manifested itself most clearly in its foreign policy, especially toward an increasingly confident Germany. France was to win a pyrrhic victory in 1918, incurring a substantial demographic cost as well as a crippling economic deficit. These were to set the conditions for a turbulent internal political dialogue in the 1920s and 1930s. While the leftist-leaning Popular Front gained the ascendancy in the face of a rising threat from across the Rhine, core differences within and between political parties militated against the creation of a united front. A blend of prevarication and blind optimism led to the fall of France and the establishment of Petain’s Vichy government. Algeria, prior to the Allied invasion of 1944, remained loyal to Vichy, but, as was to occur throughout France’s empire, the clash between those who had supported Vichy and those who had followed de Gaulle, was to cause divisions within the political and military classes as well as within the wider population. The France that emerged under the Fourth Republic again held loyal to the principles of a parliamentary, liberal, and secular democracy, but while France had won the war, it was in danger of losing the peace. A confident Parti Communiste Française (PCF, French Communist Party) declared itself to be the postwar “moral” victors, pointing to the role played by the Forces françaises d’intérieur (FFI, French Forces in the Interior) during the occupation, but was unable to align its political narrative with that of the Socialists. Had it done so, it could have consolidated immediate postwar strengths4 rather than lose ground to Georges Bidault’s centrist Mouvement Républicain Populaire (MRP, People’s Republican Movement) in the years following 1948. October 1946 saw the MRP’s proposals for a new constitution, seeking to limit the power of the executive and also to replace the idea of “empire” with “union” narrowly accepted by the nation.5 The Fourth Republic was formally established on October 13, 1946, and ran until October 5, 1958, during which it mirrored many of the political failures of its predecessor.
Post-1945 policy regarding Algeria was informed by a combination of France’s role in the Cold War and a determination to restore her position. This required a delicate balancing act in a bipolar world, with many elements of the French chattering classes and labor force tending to look East rather than West. France also needed to revive its postwar economy and looked to its colonial possessions to provide both motive power independent of American aid and status at global level. While Algeria did little to contribute to France’s wealth in trade terms (its most important export being the 400,000 who labored in France),6 it retained an important role in the psychology of the empire. The population of Algeria had reached 9.5 million, of which 8 million were Muslim, some three times larger than the population that Bugeaud pacified. Furthermore, the rate of growth indicated that it would double within 20 years. France continued to govern via the European, colon, minority who controlled every aspect of political and economic life. Algeria was more than a colony: it was part of the Métropole. The creation of three Algerian départements, enshrined in the 1848 constitution of the Third Republic, saw deputies returned to l’Assemblée Nationale exercising influence in the constant game of political musical chairs, while the political institutions within Algeria were built on an electoral system that saw 10 percent of the population hold more than 50 percent of the seats. This served to sustain and even reinforce inequality in all aspects of life from access to health care and education to the distribution of land. The number of Muslims in secondary education was less than 1 percent of the population, and there was one doctor for every 5,000 Muslims while access to health care for the European minority matched that of those in the Métropole.7 Three quarters of the Muslim population lived a rural existence, either laboring for European farmers or conducting subsistence-level farming. The colons concentrated on the Mediterranean littoral, clustering in the key cities and towns. What Bugeaud had feared had become reality: Algeria was politically and economically divided. To this must be added the fact that events during World War II had made it clear to many of the colonized that their colonial masters had clay feet: they could be beaten. The myth of invincibility created by Bugeaud’s pacification had been shattered. Many of those who had been conscripted to fight in France’s name—be it Vichy France or Free France—returned home with a more cosmopolitan view and a growing belief that they had a right to a meaningful stake in their country. To fail to recognize and cater for these views was to bring the validity of the concept of “Algérie française” into question. Critically, a blinkered and self-serving colon community failed to recognize that simple reality. To this must be added a Métropole population that had more immediate concerns and a centrist-left political class that focused upon those concerns rather than looking south. The failure of the social contract in Algeria was now inevitable. A direct consequence was the formation of the Front de Libération Nationale (FLN, National Liberation Front) on October 10, 1954.
Those searching for a date for the formal launching of war consider it to be the call for a general, pan-Algeria insurrection on All Saints’ Day (Toussaint), November 1, 1954. The call, broadcast by Radio Cairo and reflecting the need to consider Nasser’s wider, pan-Arab Nationalist context, coincided with a series of small-scale attacks across Algeria, but mainly focused in the Constantine département and utilizing a traditional bastion of defiance, the Aurès Mountains, home to the Chaouin, as a springboard. Small groups belonging to the FLN’s military wing, the Armée de Libération Nationale (ALN, National Liberation Army), probably numbering no more than 300 in total, slipped across the border from safe havens in Morocco and Tunisia to join a core of between 500 and 1,000 insurgents. Despite the retrospective titling of the initial 70 attacks as “Toussaint Rouge” (Bloody Toussaint), the initial attempt to raise rebellion was a failure, due to a combination of political apathy and insufficient military, political, and logistic preparation. The insurgents drew the correct conclusions and adopted a classic strategy, retreating to safe areas from which to build a secure base before attempting to propagate their message more widely. This process was far from straightforward. FLN/ALN ascendancy had only been achieved after a degree of in-fighting with other nationalist elements and highlighted an often unstated and concurrent aspect of many insurgency movements: debilitating and destabilizing internal strife. Nonetheless, there were grounds for hope. The insurgents had a clear narrative—an independent Islamic state marketed as the birthright of an oppressed majority—and considerable support from external sources. Their timing was also right. Postwar European empires were expensive to maintain and becoming increasingly difficult to sustain politically. The Atlantic Charter in 1941 had clearly messaged the United States’ view on colonialism in a postwar world. The FLN and ALN were to spend the next 20 months establishing a presence within the population, cleverly balancing the need to service Muslim sensibilities with the need to establish networks and structures based on tried and tested Communist insurgent methodologies, including the elimination of pro-French community leaders. They were also required to eradicate alternative options offered by other nationalist movements. In this, they were ruthlessly successful: the policy of la valise ou le cercueil (a suitcase or a coffin) may have been aimed at the colons, but the indigenous communities were required to make a similarly stark choice between collaboration, inaction, and resistance.
The French counter-reaction to the opening of the insurgency speaks volumes in terms of the state’s lack of situational awareness and capacities. Prime Minister Pierre Mendes-France told the Assemblée Nationale on November 12 that, “the Algerian departments are part of the French Republic … between them and metropolitan France there can be no conceivable secession … Ici, c’est la France!”8 The reality faced by General Paul de Cherrière, commander in chief in Algeria, was that he was ill-equipped to offer the civil authorities direct military aid. Although in command of some 54,000 troops on paper, most of them were not combat-ready. He estimated that he had in the order of 3,500 troops that he could deploy. Deploying them in an effective manner would have posed him considerable problems: his operational lift capacity was invested in eight aging, but still effective, Ju 52 transports and one helicopter.9 Thus, initial moves were hesitant and misdirected. A lack of intelligence led the authorities in Algiers to focus on obvious targets in the absence of relevant ones. This reflex action was to aid, rather than hinder, the FLN as it focused on a sector of the political spectrum that, had it been correctly handled from the outset, may have provided a counter-weight to the FLN. Security forces conducted wide-scale arrests of more moderate and accessible nationalists based in urban areas. The French arrests focused on detaining members of the Mouvement pour le Triomphe des Libertés Démocratiques (MTLD, Movement for the Triumph of Democratic Liberties), the most vocal nationalist movement led by Messali Hadj. In so doing, they unwittingly assisted the FLN in their battle to take control of the more extreme nationalist groupings within Algeria. The French quickly realized that they had been fishing in the wrong pond and commenced operations focused at clearing the interior. By the end of the year, Paris had reinforced Algeria with 20,000 troops and 20 companies of riot police, representing one-third of the mainland force.10 Early 1955 saw sweeps in the Aurès, which would serve to create and develop tactics, techniques, and procedures such as ratissage11 and accrochage.12 While conducting operations may have reassured the population to a degree and also accepting that the scale of the physical threat at that particular time was low, the French failed to appreciate the nature and potential scale of the insurgency they faced. They appeared psychologically and politically unwilling to elevate the problem beyond that of a police action. A local and low-level focus militated against a wider, coordinated, multiagency approach. The police led in the cities while army units were used in the interior.
The methodology adopted by the military saw ratissage and accrochage conducted in robust fashion with the near-inevitable result that local Arab and Berber communities, both urban and rural, were turned against the forces of government. Indiscriminate bombing of villages deemed to be pro-ALN were redolent with the overtones of the “Butcher and Bolt” tactics adopted by Britain when suppressing revolt in the Middle East in the 1920s. It is evident that commanders neither considered nor cared about the impact of second- or third-order effects. This was not the use of “cultured force” but rather “brute force.” The use of terror as a weapon became embedded in the approaches taken by both sides. The classic insurgency model sees insurgent forces using terror as a tool to compel an ambivalent population to provide basic life support and to suborn or remove local representatives of French authority. The ALN firmly embraced this approach, paralleling those who had confronted the French in Indochina with such success. French forces chose to embrace, rather than reject, terror, using it to both suppress dissent and gain information. It was here that an early opportunity to win the loyalty of sections of a largely ambivalent but frightened population was missed in favor of perceived efficiency. By the summer of 1955, an impasse had been reached. Both sides lacked the mass and the infrastructure to advance their cause. To this impasse was added a very manifest lack of concern among the majority of colons on the Algerian coastline and the population of the Métropole to their north. The perceived threat and the actual level of violence appeared not to merit greater effort. This institutionalized arrogance guaranteed a failure to snuff out a nascent, and very controllable, threat before it gained traction.
At this juncture, it is worth briefly considering the effect of geography and demographics upon the command and control structures used by both sides. The physical geography and consequent distribution of the population led the insurgents to adopt a structure based on six wilayas or military regions. Three wilayas reflected the impact of the move from the coastal plain to the mountainous regions in the hinterland. Moving from east to west, Wilaya 1 (Aurès) abutted the Tunisian frontier and was populated by the strongly independent Chaouin who cared as little for those who lived on the coast as they did for their colonial masters. In this, the parallels with Afghan tribesmen are striking: invaders come and must be endured before they go. Wilaya 6 (Sahara), which lay between the coastal mountains and the Sahara, gave way to Wilaya 5 (Oranais), which abutted the Moroccan frontier. These three wilayas formed the “rear area,” providing the required relatively “ungoverned” space and access to borders through which supplies and men could be introduced into the operational theatre. Again, moving from east to west, three wilayas lay between the mountains and the coast, encompassing the far more densely populated littoral. Wilaya 2 (Constantine) covered Constantine and its surrounding area, Wilaya 3 covered Kabylia, while Wilaya 4 (Algérois) covered Algiers and its immediate environs. To these must be added the Zone Autonome d’Alger (ZAA), reflecting the critical importance of establishing and maintaining a presence in the capital. The Battle of Algiers would be fought to destroy the structure and capability of the ALN in the ZAA.
The French army’s dispositions reflected their heritage rather than any perceived need to match the Wilaya system, but in several key areas it copied it. Algeria formed the 10th Military Region of France and contained three Corps d’Armée, covering the littoral and immediate hinterland. The fourth region within Algeria was the Sahara that had long been under military control. It is not considered further. The three corps-sized formations were based in Algiers, Constantine, and Oran, respectively, and carried titles that reflected this. It will be noted that these broadly matched the three northern wilayas, conforming to the same demographic, economic, and geographic drivers that had shaped the insurgents’ thinking. Each corps area was divided into areas of responsibilities to which divisional-level groupings were assigned. The majority of the divisions employed were light divisions, but Oran had an armored division (5e DB) under its command while Constantine commanded a motorized infantry division (2e DIMot) and, initially, an air-portable division although 25e DIAP would later convert to a parachute formation becoming 25e DP, joining 7e DI and 10e DP in the General Reserve.
The Philippeville massacre of August 20, 1955, in which 71 Europeans were murdered, marked a switch to a more aggressive and confident insurgent campaign. The military reaction was swift and ruthless. Estimates of those killed in the retaliation vary according to the political leanings of the source. French government figures suggest 1,273 insurgents were killed, while the FLN claim that the figure may be as high as 12,000.13 Events at Philippeville presented a challenge of a hitherto unprecedented scale and invited a strong counter-reaction. Clearly, elements of the FLN/ALN now felt ready to weather the storm that would follow. Critically, Governor General Jacques Soustelle,14 who visited the scene of the massacre, was to adopt a far less liberal approach thereafter. The French government, forced to focus on Algeria, used the withdrawal from Indochina to bring in the men of the Corps expéditionnaire français en extreme orient (CEFEO, French Far-Eastern Expeditionary Corps), combat-experienced professional forces who had years of counterinsurgency experience. The granting of independence to Morocco and Tunisia, while perhaps signposting a desire to withdraw from empire, also freed up more troops for Algeria. The final tool by which military mass was achieved was the decision to deploy French conscripts from the mainland into Algeria. By early 1956, France had massed some 300,000 troops in Algeria. Bugeaud had achieved the pacification of Algeria with around a third of that number. Instrumental in achieving these force ratios was the use of indigenous forces. The use of French-officered auxiliary forces (harkis) reflected a traditional method for generating mass and gaining local knowledge. Almost 20,000 harkis volunteered with another 40,000 being conscripted. By 1959, some 200,000 harkis were actively engaged in counterinsurgency.15 These men were to pay a terrible price when France abandoned them at the end of the campaign.
The French “design for operations” reflected many tried and tested methodologies. While the developing philosophy of guerre révolutionnaire was to influence operations, especially in urban areas, French thinking was driven by the well-understood requirement to secure the population and centers of population before addressing the need to defeat the insurgent in his safe havens. It would be wrong to form the view that the “oil-spot” strategy that had served Bugeaud and Lyautey so well was jettisoned wholesale. Nonetheless, the French, and those with Indochinese experience in particular, married the traditional with the innovative. The developing counterinsurgency theories of Colonel Roger Trinquier16 were embraced where it was deemed efficient to do so. Trinquier, who was to later command 3e Regiment Etranger de Parachutistes (3e REP, 3rd Foreign Legion Parachute Regiment) during the Challe Offensive, successfully lobbied for his approach, la guerre moderne, to be adopted by 10e DP in Algiers. Thus, the requirement to achieve immediate security through mass led to a twin-track and concurrent process involving a blend of sector and intervention forces.
The sector troops, tasked with framework operations, were found from the corps’ light divisions. They bore the brunt of the mundane, but essential, security tasks. The key technique of quadrillage, or dividing the terrain into defined subareas by superimposing a grid system upon the map and then garrisoning troops within that grid, drove operations. This was done on a grand scale. Sector troops were required to man isolated outposts and conduct routine patrolling. This was the critical “secure” function. While critical in as much as it underwrote core security and sought to reassure the population, the type of troops assigned to the task and the equipment they received did not necessarily reflect this importance. They felt themselves to be the “poor relations” compared to the intervention troops of the General Reserve. Predominantly manned by conscripts and reservists and commanded by a very small cadre of professional officers and NCOs, morale and motivation among the majority of the units were not high. There were important exceptions, especially among those units who could trace their heritage to l’Armée d’Afrique. The Zouaves and Spahis were units in which colons had traditionally served and the Tirailleurs were respected native infantry. While their respective manning underwent change, moving toward a 50-50 Muslim-Christian balance as the increased assimilation of conscripts and reservists made its impact, they used their heritage to sustain a strong identity and competence. Lieutenant Colonel David Galula,17 who was to later publish influential works on counterinsurgency, based much of thinking on his experiences while commanding a company employed as sector troops.
There can be no doubts as to the cohesion and strength of identity achieved by the strike arm of the French counterinsurgency campaign: the General Reserve. The 10th Parachute Division (10e DP), the 25th Parachute Division (25e DP), and the largely Foreign Legion–based 11th Infantry Division (11e DI) formed a solid core around which deliberate, intelligence-led strike operations against ALN field units were conducted. Officered by an experienced professional cadre including many from the Indochinese campaign, these formations were to achieve impressive results in both the bled and the djebel during what they came to consider “clean” operations. Both words held a respected and loved place in the lexicon of l’Armée d’Afrique. The bled was the pejorative term that the soldiers gave the Algerian hinterland, denoting a place that lay in the back of beyond, while the djebel was a corruption of the Arabic word jebel or mountain. The role of the intervention troops was to “hook, hold, contain and destroy” enemy units. The 10e DP were also to prove equally effective in Algiers when required to reduce the threat posed by the ZAA, although their kinetic approach was far from “clean.”
In this early phase of the campaign, the French realized that mass alone was insufficient. There was a need to introduce innovation. The failure to generate a coherent intelligence picture in the field frustrated Soustelle. His previous experience as an intelligence officer with the Free French’s Bureau Central de Renseignements et d’Action (BCRA, Central Bureau for Intelligence and Action), coupled with his training as an ethnologist, helped form the decision to create and deploy Sections administratives spécialisées (SAS, Specialist Administrative Sections). From September 1955, these civil-military action teams were tasked with retrospectively backfilling the very evident capability gaps created by the pre-insurgency failure to offer some, if not equal, opportunity to the Arab population. SAS had 5,000 personnel based in 800 rural centers by 195918 but had begun to achieve tangible results as early as the spring of 1957. Each SAS unit consisted of an officer in command, a security platoon of Arab soldiers, a warrant officer, an accountant, a medical element, and a communications section. Embedded in local areas and covering a population of between 2,000 and 20,000, this mix of civil and military aid ranged from the medical to the agricultural, as well as providing military training to enhance self-defense capacity. A key function was the taking of a local census. While this offered intelligence value, it also played a critical role in laying the foundations for the civil reforms envisaged under the loi cadre19 proposals. Their sensitive approach saw them become the “enablers” by which local communities could begin to access citizenship, pensions, benefits, medical treatment, and education. They also began to address the malign effects on the local economy that the war had created, providing the finance and expertise to kick-start simple infrastructure projects as well as providing the loans required to reestablish herds and crops. In so doing, they began the slow, unglamorous task of winning the population away from the insurgent. Military training permitted the raising of local self-defense units, the groupes d’auto-défense (GAD), again threatening the insurgent as did the SAS’ liaison with units from the army, the police, the gendarmerie, and the intelligence services. The degree to which the SAS damaged the efforts of the FLN’s organisation politico-administrative (OPA) cannot be underestimated. Charged with running an alternative local government within the secured areas, the OPA could ill-afford to be undermined in this manner and SAS officers and those who cooperated with them became priority targets for the ALN. The key threat that they posed was simple: they offered access to the French model but did so with a very clear view of the reality that was Algerian village life. The SAS were to stick resolutely to their task throughout the campaign, despite the decision in July 1961 to reduce their footprint from over 700 sections to 250 as part of a reorganization effort. Often charged with “going native,” they were particularly bitter over the decision to abandon Algeria. This should not detract from the innovative role they played, especially in the early years of the campaign.
Further evidence of a willingness to innovate saw the preponderance of poor-quality tactical leadership among sector troops addressed via the establishment of two Centres d’instruction et de préparation à la contre-guérilla (CIPCG, Counter-Insurgency Training Centres) at Philippeville (Constantine) and Arzew (Oran). Mooted as being an essential element of any army’s counterinsurgency armory and established as a result of a joint politico-military initiative, their role was to impart badly needed role and theatre-specific expertise to officers and NCOs, including Psychological Operations (PSYOPS). It was from these establishments that Trinquier’s techniques were propagated among the wider army from mid-1958. It was forcefully argued that there was little point in reducing the insurgent bands in a piecemeal fashion. To win, the counterinsurgent had to do more: he had to destroy the brain behind the guerrilla. The political movement had to be destroyed, and to do this, it had to be found, dragged out from the shadows, and crushed. The fact that the insurgent had gone underground required the soldier to react accordingly, using whatever methods proved most efficient. This was the argument of force—brute force. To paraphrase Colonel Charles Lacheroy,20 the author of a counterinsurgency theory based on “psychological action,” the prevailing view was that, “New war can’t be fought by reference to the Code Napoleon.”21 Indochina had taught Trinquier and many of the commanders of the intervention units that victory lay in the ruthless application of intent and method. They had been taught well by those who won in Indochina and by those who had incarcerated them after Dien Bien Phu and it was now time to put those lessons into practice. It was time to be innovative. Lieutenant Colonel Marcel Bigeard,22 an old Indochina hand, was selected to command the school at Philippeville and Lieutenant Colonel Andre Bruge commanded at Arzew. Both had been in the hands of the Viet Minh as prisoners of war and quickly established a reputation for bringing a very direct and pertinent focus to training. Over 8,000 students graduated from the schools between 1958 and 1960, each attending a stage (course) of between four and six weeks. The culture, command, and conduct of Bigeard’s 3e Regiment Parachutistes Coloniaux (3e RPC, 3rd Colonial Parachute Regiment) were a shining example of how that philosophy manifested itself in both the bled and the city.
The ALN’s Soummam Conference held in August 1956 produced badly needed direction for its forces. While dealing with tactical and operational matters, the key purpose was to attempt to create a unified politico-military strategy while also taking steps to consolidate and protect in-country structures. A key outcome was the decision to take the war into the cities at a hitherto unseen level of intensity. In so doing, the ALN leadership had correctly identified the French center of gravity. By rendering the cities untenable without considerable costs in terms of finance and, critically, constraints upon the population, French will to endure would be eroded, especially within the political and intellectual classes of metropolitan France. Clearly, Algiers would be where they would place their main effort. A second, operational-level, strand would be devoted to improving the capability of the forces in the wilayas via a concentrated effort to reinforce the field units with men and, critically, arms and munitions. This would be done in concert with a third strand, the strengthening of the ALN’s grip on the rural population.
The French response was initially labored and heavy-handed. The police force quickly proved itself incapable of countering rising levels of violence across Algeria. This failure, and especially the general and ill-focused violence and repression of the population that accompanied it, further distanced the police from the population, but also struck deep into the police’s own sense of security. It would become very apparent that their will was being eroded in a highly effective manner. This pan-Algerian effect was further exacerbated by a series of events in Algiers. The French had continued to conduct executions of criminals to appease, or at least reassure, the colons. The effect that such a policy, and the use of the guillotine, might have on the indigenous population appears to have been either ignored or gravely underestimated. Two executions, carried out in Algiers on June 19, 1956, triggered particularly high levels of anger. The FLN, sensing an opportunity, issued a communiqué calling for all members to attempt to kill European males between the ages of 18 and 44. They were careful to instruct their rank and file to avoid killing or injuring women, children, and the aged. Forty-nine Europeans died by shooting over the next three days: the war had come to Algiers in a very direct manner and a suitable riposte was required. Disaffected colons carried out a counter-operation on August 10, killing 70 Muslims in what became known as the Rue de Thèbes massacre. The FLN mounted a bombing operation on September 30, targeting three “soft” locations in Algiers city center. Two bombs functioned, and while only three were killed, the attacks constituted a very effective strike at the increasingly embattled European population. The final straw saw the assassination of a respected mayor, Froger, by Ali la Pointe on December 28. To add insult to injury, the mayor’s funeral was bombed. Thus, the stage was set for the Battle of Algiers.
Governor General Lacoste,23 who had replaced Soustelle in February, called in General Salan,24 the commander in chief and handed him effective control of the counterinsurgency. In so doing, Lacoste instituted a fundamental change in the French dynamic: he moved from a police-led operation to one led by the army. This was to have direct consequences for the rest of the campaign. Raoul Salan, an experienced colonial soldier, did not hesitate, embracing the opportunity that the Special Powers Law afforded. He handed the problem to General Jacques Massu25 and his 10e DP. 10e DP deployed on January 7, 1957, and promptly seized back the initiative via a ruthless approach. Before considering the military approach in detail, it is necessary to place it within the wider political context. The failure of talks with the FLN in the aftermath of his election had left Prime Minister Mollet26 frustrated, and the subsequent failure of Operation Musketeer, the Anglo-French assault on the Suez Canal, added to that sense of frustration. Mindful of his international position and the apparent crisis in Algiers, he attempted to appear decisive, issuing a declaration on January 9, 1957, in which he backed the army’s role in Algeria and stated that France would never abandon Algeria. He advanced a three-pronged policy based on equality, coexistence, and the willingness to recognize the distinctiveness of Algeria. Mollet’s offer was an unconditional cease-fire, free elections, and free discussions about independence with whoever won those elections. The declaration offered social and economic reforms including much-needed economic, agrarian, and educational reform packages. He argued that simply bowing to demands for independence without first conducting reform would be to offer no independence at all. While he was careful to underline France’s sovereign rights in respect of Algeria, taking a distinctly parochial approach in regard to the United Nations’ right to intervene in domestic affairs, there is no doubt that Mollet was offering reconciliation, but he was offering it to an insurgent movement that had no intention of hearing the offer in the short term at least. Thus, as the prime minister was attempting to reach out to the wider Algerian population, Massu was about to conduct operations in a manner almost willfully designed to alienate a critical element within it.
Combining shock action with high-quality intelligence, 10e DP rooted out the insurgent networks within the city. The FLN were based in the Casbah, an urban district, comprising densely packed poor-quality housing accessed by a warren of narrow streets, alleys, and interconnected courtyards. This urban guerrilla’s paradise had a population of some 80,000. Half of the adult males in the Casbah were unemployed and half of the population were under the age of 20. Although FLN strength in the ZAA was assessed to be in the order of 5,000, it was embedded in an environment that would, due to a combination of social circumstances and coercion, support and shield it. The movement commanded by Saadi Yacef, a baker by trade, was organized into three sections or branches: the political and financial section, the military branch that was never stronger than 150, and thirdly, an intelligence organization that was essentially emasculated by the political element’s overriding control. To these three branches must be added the independent bombing network of some 50 operatives. 10e DP was required to be innovative, ruthless, and unbending. The troops’ initial reaction was one of distaste as they regarded it to be “work for the cops.” Using quadrillage, Massu and Colonel Yves Godard,27 his experienced chief of staff, subdivided the city into sectors, allocating the Casbah to Lieutenant Colonel Marcel Bigeard’s 3e RPC. Bigeard instituted a rigorous campaign using Trinquier’s method of population control (Dispositif de Protection Urbaine) and the exploitation of intelligence that it generated. It is estimated that some 30–40 percent of the male population of the Casbah were arrested and interrogated during the six-month duration of the Battle of Algiers. The results were detailed organigrammes, which laid out the cellular structure of the FLN units within the Casbah. This was Human Terrain Analysis as conducted by the French in the 1950s. It also involved brutal interrogation that repelled civilians and some soldiers alike, but was justified on the grounds of efficiency. Some 3,000 detainees were to die in custody. Notable among these was the “suicide” of Ben M’Hidi, who was arrested and interrogated by Bigeard’s troops on February 23 before being handed to troops operating under the authority of Major Paul Aussaresses.28 M’Hidi’s suicide by hanging was announced on March 6. A second suicide while in custody by Ali Boumendjel, a prominent lawyer and member of the FLN, was announced on March 23. By the end of March, the French were confident that they had broken the back of the ALN presence in Algiers. In one respect, they were right: the impact of the French strategy was such that the ruling executive of the ALN, the Comité de Coordination et d’Exécution (CCE) fled the city, effectively submitting to the need to be a government in exile. This represented a major success for the counterinsurgency effort. Such was the level of confidence that units were returned to intervention operations where their absence had been keenly felt. This was perhaps premature as Yacef, as yet uncaptured, returned to the offensive. A bomb attack on Algier’s casino, a popular night spot for the colons, on June 9 was spectacularly successful, killing 9 and wounding 85. Both Massu and Salan witnessed the immediate aftermath and the colon community reacted in savage fashion. Two hundred rioted killing five Muslims, injuring a further fifty, and causing widespread destruction of Muslim business premises. The majority of the police and military units in Algiers did little to stop it. There was no option but to recall 10e DP and allow them to return to the Casbah.
Yacef’s network was steadily reduced in the following weeks. The capture of key lieutenants forced Yacef to engage in negotiations, but these failed and further bombings followed in response to a series of executions. Increasing pressure saw Yacef’s organization splinter in late September. Yacef was captured on September 24 and French forces followed this by cornering Ali la Pointe on October 8. He opted for suicide rather than capture. This brought the Battle of Algiers to a final conclusion. A key enabler throughout the Battle of Algiers was the use of torture to gain real-time intelligence, a process justified by Aussaresses29 and Trinquier.30 While such means may have delivered useful, or even critical, short-term gains, the long-term damage it did in terms of both the links between a nation and its army and the health of that army itself far outweighed the immediate returns.
Having regained control of the cities, Salan moved to the offensive in the interior, building on the developing strategy of hold, secure, and develop. Having received reinforcements and enablers, Salan was now ready to transition to quadrillage on a grand scale. As discussed, even if issues relating to quantity were being addressed, problems regarding the quality of the forces remained. Pragmatism saw lower-quality troops used to hold areas, but higher-quality units were first required to take them. This placed a very real strain on the intervention troops who found themselves operating at a punishing and debilitating tempo. This disparity in treatment and the constant overuse of elite forces were to be major contributors to the increasing feeling of estrangement felt by regular officers and senior NCOs. Nonetheless, the increased scale and efficiency of operations was having a marked impact upon the ALN’s ability to conduct operations within Algeria itself. The work of the SAS was beginning to deliver tangible results as was the combination of a policy of population resettlement, focused psychological operations, and strike operations. This was not without some cost. The establishment of zones interdites (forbidden zones), created by forced displacement of rural populations, was far from popular. The very scale of the displacement added to the scale of the problem: by 1958, an estimated 10 percent of the indigenous population had been placed into squalid and overcrowded camps. This was not winning hearts and minds, but it was a highly effective method of attacking the internal support infrastructure upon which the insurgents relied. The Melouza massacre of September 1957 is an indication of the degree of pressure the ALN were under. Three hundred inhabitants of Melouza, a small village in Wilaya 3, were murdered by FLN forces loyal to a “Colonel” Amirouche. Despite FLN attempts to shift blame for the killings onto the intervention troops, it rapidly became apparent that the catalyst for the massacre lay in an internal power struggle between the FLN and another movement, the Mouvement Nationaliste Algérien (MNA, Algerian Nationalist Movement). The immediate result was that the local community went over to the French, led by their charismatic leader, Bellounis. He was to command what was in effect a private army under the auspices of Operation Olivier. This defection, and others, posed a considerable and near-permanent threat to the FLN leadership.
Realizing that reducing the ALN’s military effectiveness within the wilayas would not, of itself, deliver victory, operations along the frontiers were conducted in concert with those providing internal security. The ALN’s logistics were reliant upon having relatively free access to safe rear areas sited across the frontier in Morocco and Tunisia. The French constructed fixed defenses along the frontiers to contain and channel the insurgents. Undeniably expensive in terms of financial cost, les barrages were electrified and equipped with sensors. They were also under air and ground surveillance. They posed a considerable challenge to the ALN. The barrier running the length of the Tunisian frontier, the Morice Line, was completed as early as September 1957. Its effect was such that it demanded ALN attempts to reduce it. The ALN faced Hobson’s choice: reduce the effect of the barrier whatever the cost or face the slow strangulation of its field units within the wilayas. In forcing the ALN to confront this challenge head on in what was to be named the Battle of the Frontiers, the French had achieved a fundamental milestone in their military strategy. Forcing an insurgent movement into open, large-scale engagement on terms chosen by their opponents meant forcing that movement to dance to a French tune. The battle raged for the first six months of 1958. An increasingly frustrated ALN threw troops against the frontier defenses at tremendous cost. January and February cost the movement 3,400 dead and 529 captured. Losses in Kabylia alone amounted to 2,151 dead and 333 captured. March saw no reduction, with 3,132 being killed and 715 captured. Attempts to force the frontier petered out in late June, with the ALN having lost an estimated 23,534 dead or captured during the battle. Equally important was the fact that the Morice Line also kept 20,000 ALN troops penned in Tunisia.31 In many ways, the Battle for the Frontiers represented the successful execution of the attritionalist effect that those planning Dien Bien Phu had sought to achieve in 1954. It is perhaps fitting that many of the intervention troops engaged in the Battle of the Frontiers had had a hand in both.
Thus, by mid-1958 the military element of France’s counterinsurgency strategy had delivered a considerable level of success. The ALN had been comprehensively defeated in Algiers, allowing the French to secure their operational center of gravity, and the field units in the wilayas had been isolated from external support. The ALN had also suffered significant casualties in attempting to break through to their isolated units, exposing themselves to French operational and tactical strengths rather than avoiding them. The French military had much to be pleased about, but, once again, political events were to impinge upon them.
The very nature of the political infrastructure of France results in eternal compromise and coalition. The war in Algeria continued to exacerbate internal division and also increased pressure from without. The international community simply would not support a French Algerian policy that did not include the granting of independence. Furthermore, there was increasing evidence that the level of military commitment in Algeria was, at the very least, in danger of undermining France’s ability to meet NATO commitments. The financial pressure created by funding the war and the increasing casualty rates being reported were also undermining popular support. The nation was growing increasingly divided and the political landscape increasingly muddled. February 1958 saw French aircraft strike a rebel camp at Sakiet on the Tunisian side of the frontier. While no doubt effective in terms of achieving further tactical attrition, the strategic effect was far from positive. Felix Gaillard’s conservative government, linked closely to a cloistered Charles de Gaulle, which had formed in November 1957, was faced by strong international condemnation of the action at Sakiet and the equally strong internal counter-reaction to that criticism. The government fell on April 15, 1958. President Coty found himself unable to find a successor: nobody was keen to drink from the poisoned chalice. Overtures were made to de Gaulle, but he was not yet ready. After nearly three weeks of uncertainty, Pierre Pflimlin of the socialist MRP agreed to attempt to form a government, but his initial attempts foundered on the implacable opposition of the colon community in Algeria and the very obvious reservations of the army. Both groupings feared that he would open negotiations with the FLN. Coty decided to call the colons bluff and directed that the Assemblée Nationale would vote for Pflimlin’s proposed ministry on May 13. The result was public disorder in Algiers, involving the storming and occupation of the offices of the government general. In the absence of a firm civilian lead and hampered by a distinctly reticent Salan, Massu was forced to engage in negotiations with Pierre Lagaillarde, the leader of the protestors. The price for a return to order was Massu agreeing to the formation of a Committee of Public Safety and chairing it. This news caused consternation in Paris: the threat of a coup d’état appeared very real. Salan remained at a distance, frustrating Lagaillarde and forcing him toward the waiting hands of the pro-Gaullistes. Meanwhile, Coty continued with the vote on the Pflimlin-proposed government. The Assemblée Nationale approved Pflimlin during the night of the 13th, but this was rejected in Algiers on the grounds that the new prime minister would abandon Algeria at the first opportunity. The Committee’s views were read to the crowd by Massu. He also called on de Gaulle to save the nation and Algeria. There could now be little doubt that the military and civil leadership of Algiers were in open revolt. There were, however, two aspects of the political machinations of that night, which bear close scrutiny. Before leaving office, Gaillard handed civil as well as military control of Algiers to Salan on the grounds that Lacoste, the governor general, was in Paris. One of Pflimlin’s first actions was to confirm that decision. This clouded the legal waters somewhat, but it did give Salan some freedom of maneuver. He issued a proclamation on the 14th, demanding that there be an immediate return to order and making it plain that the Committee “represented the Franco-Muslim” community. Committees were established in cities across Algeria and France held its breath. Salan broke the impasse on the morning of the 15th by ending an address in Algiers by shouting “Vive de Gaulle!” This was met with a rapturous reception in Algiers, but more importantly, it signaled a way forward to a nervous Paris. The strength and makeup of a large rally in Algiers on the 16th, calling for a government under de Gaulle, including in the order of 20,000 pro-French Arabs, reinforced the need to act. Finally, it was becoming increasingly clear that an element of the French forces in Algiers were preparing to launch an airborne assault on Paris, Operation Résurrection, and that there was significant support from commanders based in metropolitan France.
Once again, France turned to its traditional response in time of crisis: it called for what might be termed a man on white horse, a savior who would ride to the rescue of the nation. France had an impressive cast of previous charismatic leaders including Joan of Arc, Napoleon, Pétain, and, of course, de Gaulle who rose from relative obscurity to lead the Free French movement during World War II. Having led resistance to the Germans from a position of enforced exile, this time de Gaulle emerged from a self-imposed internal exile, stating that he was willing to “assume the powers of the Republic.” Not all agreed and a difficult round of negotiations with the Socialists followed. While not de Gaulle’s natural bedfellows, they held sufficient votes to counter the Communist bloc if they were used to support de Gaulle. The following two weeks saw de Gaulle act to consolidate his claim. The fact that Corsica had declared for the dissidents and the realization that the generals in Algiers had set a provisional date of the night of May 27–28 for Operation Résurrection further strengthened de Gaulle’s hand. Pflimlin’s evident inability to control events allowed de Gaulle to demand his resignation. After some prevarication, Pflimlin tendered it on May 28. France was left with a choice: face a coup d’état mounted by the dissidents or accept de Gaulle. The Socialists opted for de Gaulle and he was endorsed by the Assemblée Nationale, becoming prime minister on June 1. De Gaulle was also handed “special powers” to deal with the crisis. Three days later, he visited Algeria to reassure the population, making his famous Je vous ai compris (“I have understood you”) speech in which he attempted to convince the skeptical colon community that he had listened to their concerns. He also seized the opportunity to stamp his authority upon the government in Algiers. He then set the conditions for presidential-led government via proposals for a new constitution that was endorsed by over 80 percent of the turnout in a referendum on September 28, 1958. The Fifth Republic was born on October 4, 1958 and de Gaulle moved from ruling by decree to assuming the presidency on December 21, 1958. On the eve of the birth of the Fifth Republic, de Gaulle, sensing the strength of his position at home, if not in Algeria, offered the FLN “a peace of the brave.”
De Gaulle now had a strong mandate to resolve the Algerian crisis. It was clear that a significant element of population wished to rid themselves of Algeria, thus there was a very evident, and oft forgot, “push” factor at work at home. This domestic pressure became a critical catalyst in the unraveling of the hitherto unified official policy relating to Algeria, sending a powerful message to the insurgent camp that could now see growing internal divisions as well as the very manifest international disdain for France’s Algerian policy.
Mindful of their role in the crisis, de Gaulle immediately acted to reduce military control in Algeria, reestablishing a civil lead in the form of Delegate General Paul Delouvrier,32 who now had the military commander re-subordinated to him. Salan’s position having become untenable, he was replaced by General Maurice Challe.33 Both appointments took place within a week of each other: the new broom was used immediately. The fact that Challe, coming from the air force, was not an army man further reinforced the fact that de Gaulle was determined to bring the army in Algeria to heel. Further messaging was contained in the title of delegate general: unlike governor generals of the past, France’s “man” in Algiers was to be firmly controlled by Paris. De Gaulle’s final imposed constraint was the fact that both Delouvrier and Challe were firm Gaullistes. This was to be directive control.
Faced with the need to establish a workable and sustainable politico-military approach, the new government developed a strategy of vaincre et convaincre (conquer and convince). Ironically, this was a slogan that would have sat very comfortably with Bugeaud, but while he would have grasped the requirement to use cultured force as a tool, it remained unclear if the current commanders in Algeria would be able to transition from the established use of brute force to a more supple position. The imperative requirement was to convince the population, to draw them toward the established government, but the key problem was the lack of a declared desired end-state. It is impossible to market the nebulous. To this challenge must be added the increasingly politicized role of the French higher command in Algeria. Salan had played with fire and had to be removed although his active involvement had not gone unnoticed by the ranks of junior officers who were becoming increasingly concerned by the growing realization that, despite their very evident determination to defeat the insurgency, all may well come to naught.
Plan Constantine, the civil component of the new strategy, acknowledged the need to address the glaring democratic and social gulf between the rights and opportunities of indigenous Algerians and those of the colons. De Gaulle announced the plan on October 3, 1958, during a visit to Algeria. In a speech in Constantine, a major city in the east of the country, and preempting the appointment of Challe and Delouvrier, he outlined a five-year economic development plan covering a wide-ranging brief including commercial, agrarian, and educational reform. It should be noted that a driving influence in these reforms was the need to move the Algerian economy, included, as part of France, in the provisions of the Treaty of Rome. These measures followed the recent constitutional referendum where de Gaulle had extended the franchise to all Algerians. This bold stroke had born fruit in the short term with 80 percent of the non-European population voting and voting in favor of the new constitution. This struck an immediate, and very public, blow to the FLN cause.
De Gaulle recognized the tensions but had little room for maneuver. On October 23, he made an offer to conclude a negotiated peace with the insurgents, a paix des braves (peace of the brave), in the certain knowledge that it would prove unacceptable to both sides. De Gaulle did not hold out the chance of negotiating independence, making it clear that his vision of an Algeria irrevocably linked to France had not and would not change: he was still wedded to “association not domination.” As expected, the offer was indeed to prove incendiary, sparking wide-scale protest. The FLN, affronted by de Gaulle’s suggestion that negotiations would commence once they had shown a wish to engage by approaching French lines under a white flag, rejected the overture within 48 hours. Ferhat Abbas, the FLN leader, made it plain to both France and the world that the solution lay in conducting negotiations about Algeria’s independence—nothing else. The ALN were ordered to fight on. De Gaulle had achieved little: he had been publicly rebuffed by the FLN and the very fact that he had made any form of approach to the FLN caused great concern among the colons.
Both Challe and Delouvrier realized that this was the point at which to grasp the nettle: both the military and civil arms of the counterinsurgency had an opportunity to seize the initiative. While Plan Constantine signposted the direction of civil effort, Challe had to return to the offensive. Plan Challe was not novel in its concept: “Seize, Hold, and Build” was still the order of the day, but Challe brought a sharp focus to the execution of the strategy. Continuing to exploit the nature, competence, and qualities of his respective force elements, Challe concentrated his elite units, using them in a series of highly effective operations during 1959. The main effort between February and March was in Wilaya 5 where a series of large-scale deliberate cordon and search operations drastically reduced ALN capability. While sector troops held ground taken, 10e DP, 25e DP, and 11e DI closed with ALN units located and tracked by specialist units such as the Commandos de Chasse. The old constraints of logistics and transport were removed by the fact that the greatly increased acquisition of rotary-wing aircraft permitted the use of the insertion of lightly equipped troops that could be supported in the field once landed. The nature of the contacts between the intervention forces and the ALN were brutal. Once located, which even with air-cavalry tactics was far from quick or easy, the insurgents were subjected to sustained strikes from well-controlled Combat Air Support assets while ground assets maneuvered round them to corral them in place. Once pinned, they were assaulted and destroyed. Building on the success of operations in Wilaya 5, Challe moved through a series of similar operations. Operation Courroie saw Wilaya 4 reduced between April and June before Operation Etincelles was launched in July. By reducing the ALN in Wilaya 1, Challe isolated Wilaya 3 that was then the subject of Operation Jumelles in late July, which resulted in the disruption of the ALN in its traditional stronghold of Kabylia. A subsequent operation, Operation Pierres Précieuses, cleared most of the Constantine area.
These “kinetic” and aggressive internal operations were to prove highly effective. The combination of tight border security—maritime as well as land frontiers—coupled with a rapidly improving internal security dynamic began to constrain markedly the insurgents’ capacity to sustain any form of operational tempo. Denied life support among the population, the armed insurgency withered on the vine. By early 1960, the military element of the vaincre et convaincre strategy was all but delivered. The army had effectively defeated their enemy in the field, delivering tactical and operational victory. The battle that remained was now a battle for the loyalty of the population rather than a battle for its security. As ever, the prize remained the population and this could only be delivered by achieving strategic success. This would require time and cooperation, neither of which was available.
The delivery of military success could not mask a simple truth: the armed insurgency had been sustained long enough to have a fundamental impact upon the psyche of all of the stakeholders. The Algerian independence movement, in its widest sense, had gained an irresistible momentum built on moral force. That moral force was rooted in a combination of factors found inside Algeria itself, inside mainland France and along the corridors of international institutions. Compromise on the part of those advocating independence was unnecessary: time would deliver it. For the minority stakeholders—those wishing Algeria to remain French and, ideally, colonialist in character—compromise was unpalatable. While the writing was on the wall, many chose not to read it. Prime among these were an incendiary combination of angry, parochial colons and angry, frustrated soldiers. The pied noirs stood to lose all: their land, their livelihood, and their culture. Compromise represented catastrophe. For the professional soldiers of the Legion, the Paras and the Coloniale, compromise equaled defeat. Given the reality and the cost of the tactical and operational victory that they had delivered, another defeat so soon after the humiliation of Indochina was deemed unacceptable. De Gaulle was not blind to the growing estrangement between his policy and that advocated by the officer corps in Algeria. His tour of officer messes in late August 1959 had underlined the degree of resentment. While he took the position that the operational victory that the army had delivered could be used to force negotiations with the FLN, those who had delivered the success took a radically different view. For them, success in the field equaled winning the right to insist on the continuation of an “Algerie francaise,” underwritten by a willing army. While recognizing that he had failed to convert the majority of the officer corps, de Gaulle was sufficiently sure of his standing within the Armed Services to conclude that they would do as he ordered when he ordered it. He was to be proved wrong.
In an attempt to move the issue forward, de Gaulle addressed the nation on September 16, 1959. He announced that the people of Algeria would be offered the right to determine their own future in a free vote that France would respect. The choice lay between outright independence and independence in association with France. The referendum would take place within four years of the end of hostilities, the date being at the whim of the French president. Self-determination was now formally on the table, but, once again, the FLN rejected the offer. Their motives for doing so were two-fold: they felt that there was no guarantee that the offer would remain in the event of de Gaulle losing the presidency and, second, they were far from convinced that, should they win, they would win a majority in subsequent elections. They had not fought this long and this hard to see political control of an independent Algeria slip from their hands.
The year 1960 started badly for both the French government in general and for General Massu in particular. On January 18, Süddeutsche Zeitung, a German newspaper, published an interview with Massu in which he was reported as stating that the army no longer understood de Gaulle’s policies and that senior officers no longer felt able to offer him their unconditional obedience. Massu claimed that he had been speaking off the record, but he was removed from Algeria despite receiving strong support from Challe, who needed his military qualities rather more than his less than polished political skills.
The summary removal of Massu, the colons’ hero, proved too much, provoking “Barricades Week.” Ortiz and Lagaillarde, the extremist colon leaders, seized the opportunity to exploit what they saw as a serious error by Challe. They called for an eight-day General Strike, which was to start on Sunday, January 24. The opening moves in the strike would see mass demonstrations in Algiers. There remains debate as to the level of spontaneity involved, with some suggesting that Massu’s dismissal was not the catalyst, but rather the excuse for an action that had been preplanned for some time. Irrespective of the degree of forward planning, the threat posed was very real. With crowds of colons massing, Challe and Delouvrier acted quickly, cordoning off Algiers to prevent reinforcements arriving from elsewhere and directing that 2,000 gendarmes place an inner cordon around the protestors with the aim of funneling them away from the area of the government general. Despite very clear direction to the contrary, the situation deteriorated markedly after firing took place in the city. Fourteen colons were killed and a further 123 were wounded, all by fellow Frenchmen. Challe ordered the men of the 10e DP into the city. While he might have issued the order, 10e DP lead elements 1ier Regiment Etranger Parachutistes (1 REP, 1st Foreign Legion Parachute Regiment) under Colonel Dufour and 1ier Regiment de Chasseurs Parachutistes (1 RCP, 1st Chasseur Parachute Regiment) under Colonel Broizat did not arrive in as punctual a manner as they could have. The protestors immediately established barricades and refused to move. Senior army officers urged restraint upon Challe and he prevaricated under the pressure from “a soviet of Colonels.”34 The period of January 25–29 was tense in political terms, but the atmosphere between the protestors and 10e DP was cordial. Paul Delouvrier did not weather the political tension well and Challe’s reputation was not enhanced either.
The crisis was averted because the colon leadership’s self-serving approach manifested itself in a policy that was unacceptable to the Muslim majority. In adopting this parochial stance, they shot themselves in the foot. To this political myopia must be added the fact that a combination of inclement weather, tacit rather than active support from 10e DP, and de Gaulle’s barnstorming address to the nation on the 29th broke the colons’ will and Paris’s authority was enforced—but enforced at a price. Once again, the willingness of certain officers to engage in overt political action had been exposed: in effect, a combination of civil leaders and officers attempted to launch a coup d’état. Challe’s sense of personal loyalty to de Gaulle caused him to decline, but de Gaulle felt that the strength of loyalty that Challe could command from key units in the army in Algeria was questionable. While the senior leadership of the army in Algeria had held firm, arrests and trials of junior and middle-ranking officers followed, underlining the very real sense of discontent within the officers’ messes of elite units. De Gaulle toured the officers’ messes in March 1960 to reinforce the fact that he not only expected loyalty but also demanded it. The fact that he had to do so meant that Challe’s tenure was now in question. Horne quotes the New York Times journalist and author, C. L. Sulzberger, who highlighted the key issue exposed by Barricades Week: “there would have been no such desperate Algerian crisis had France’s professional army been truly loyal to the State. Civilian ultras alone were helpless and lacking in effective strength.”35
The FLN response to the disorder was both predictable and, to a degree, accurate. To them, this was evidence that despite the huge losses due to the Challe Plan and the increasing disruption within their ranks, the French were paying a heavy price, too. This suggested that “more of the same” was all that was required: French will was being tested and being found lacking. Fortunately for the French, the will of the ALN inside Algeria was also being tested. The commander of Wilaya 4, Si Salah, whose forces heavily battered in May and June of the previous year, offered to come to the table with a view to exploring a peace agreement. The French commenced secret negotiations, which included flying Salah to France for a direct meeting with de Gaulle. In so doing, de Gaulle forced the hand of the Gouvernement Provisoire de la République Algérienne (GPRA), the self-proclaimed government in exile, and discussions did take place in France, but they rapidly broke down. De Gaulle’s only consolation was that Salah was murdered by ALN elements shortly afterward, but there were real costs too. The GPRA were recognized by the Soviet Union before the end of the year and the election of President Kennedy suggested that American policy on Algeria would be less sympathetic to France than ever. September 5 saw the publishing of the “Manifesto of the 121” in which prominent intellectuals in France called for conscripts to refuse to serve. A tour of Algeria in December 1960 was cut short in the face of very evident European dissatisfaction. De Gaulle grasped the nettle, announcing a referendum on the Algerian question on December 20. The referendum would be held with almost indecent haste on January 8, 1961. The key question mirrored de Gaulle’s oft-stated position that Algeria should be offered self-determination but only once hostilities had ceased. The population’s response was definitive: 75 percent of the electorate voting in the Metropole backed him with 71 percent of the Algerian electorate following suit. The FLN’s call for a boycott had resulted in a turnout of 59 percent and the number of “no” votes correlated closely with the number of Europeans entitled to vote, some 786,536.36 This voting pattern represented a “backs to the wall” response, indicating a growing sense of frustration and fear. This frustration was also evident among some of the officer corps, both retired and serving. Salan had, of course, left the army and Challe followed him in January. The growing bitterness, sense of division, and active politicking within the officer corps serving in Algeria is brilliantly captured in Jean Lartéguy’s novel Les Prétoriens, which followed his equally successful Les Centurions. The sense of desperation manifested itself in two ways: the formation of the Organisation Armée Secrète (OAS) and the Generals’ Putsch of April 1961. The role of the OAS is not considered in detail here, but it was formed in early 1961 and comprised a blend of extremist civilian and military elements who vowed to continue the fight for a French Algeria to the bitter end, including, if necessary, the assassination of de Gaulle. Failure—albeit often bloody and destructive failure as they targeted the ALN, FLN, and the Arab population—was ultimately guaranteed by the unstoppable transition to independence. Their reaction was to switch to a “scorched-earth” policy to reduce the economic value of what would be left postindependence. This was to cost 2,360 lives and a further 5,418 injured: an astonishing total reflecting the fact that the OAS wanton violence managed to claim three times more civilians in less than six months than the FLN had achieved since 1956 before an unexpected truce between the OAS and the ALN was called on June 17, 1961.37 While the OAS may be regarded as the child of extremist thinking, the Generals’ Putsch serves to illustrate the degree to which French officers, ostensibly part of the French conservative establishment, felt alienated from their government. Gone was the idea of an army operating in support of a government fueled by a desire to achieve a wider purpose. This was an army in rebellion—a direct threat to the state and to the personal authority and dignity of de Gaulle himself.
De Gaulle’s decision to drop his opposition to peace negotiations without an end to hostilities enabled the government to announce peace talks at Evian, which would commence on April 7. This was to prove a step too far for elements within the military. They had grown used to having control since having it handed to them by Lacoste in 1957. The events of May 1958 had seen some of them actively contemplate taking power, but they had drawn back. “The would-be coup in December 1960 had marked a crossing of the Rubicon. Sections of the French Army were now irrevocably committed to revolt.”38 Generals Challe, Salan, Jouhaud,39 and Zeller40 agreed to lead the putsch. The aim was to use the well of support in Algeria to take and then hold it. There was no intention of invading France or of removing de Gaulle. Launched on the night of April 21–22, this was no Operation Résurrection, but rather a plan by which a fully enabled army in Algeria would complete the “pacification” of the country within three months and then present a de facto “Algérie française” to a Metropole, which would welcome the fact that direct action had delivered what they both wanted and needed. This narrative was designed to play to the colons and to the military in Algeria, but, given the political landscape in France and Algeria, it is difficult to see how it would gain traction among both populations. The primary political carrot on offer hinged on a return to the loi cadre reforms offered by Lacoste years before. Given what was now on offer, these paled into insignificance. This critical aspect, allied to a grave misunderstanding of how key elements of the French forces in Algeria would react, proved their undoing but did underline the hubris that was at work within those who conspired against the Republic. Frustration is perhaps excusable, but hubris has cost many a military commander their victory and their head. It is now clear that a failure to grasp a “bottom-up” approach, relying heavily upon junior officers and warrant officers, would founder on the rocks of strong direction to the contrary by unit and formation commanders on the ground. While General Gouraud, commanding at Constantine, declared for the plotters and ordered his units to seize Oran and Algiers, not all of his units followed him. While the army was divided, the air force and the navy remained steadfastly loyal to de Gaulle. De Gaulle broadcast to the nation on the night of the 23rd and the nation rallied behind him. The putsch was doomed with Challe surrendering on the 27th. Zeller followed within days and both Salan and Jouhaud were driven underground, joining the OAS.
The scale of the mutiny within army units is informative. In short, the degree of frustration and alienation was not mirrored in the number who rebelled. The five general officers notwithstanding, only some 200 officers were arrested, although it is clear that many more had been complicit to some degree or other, if only through “active inaction.” The up-front cost was relatively light, but there was an immediate political cost to pay: the government entered the negotiations at Evian in a position of weakness. The fact that European civilians had actively conspired against the authorities made it harder to secure guarantees regarding their future status in an independent Algeria and, of far more importance to a pragmatic French government, their ability to barter for “favored nation” access to the oil reserves in the Sahara was severely weakened. By the end of July, a combination of internal political disagreements within the FLN/GPRA and atrocities perpetrated by the OAS had served to cause a stalemate. De Gaulle, determined to force progress, spoke to the nation in a New Year address in which he informed the country that 1962 would be the year of decision. He declared that France would free herself “one way or another” of the ties that bound her to Algeria. Irrespective of what happened at the talks, France would commence withdrawing troops in January 1962 to start the long-needed modernization of her forces in order that they could take their place in the defense of Europe. The effect was as desired and the Evian Accords, containing the road map to the transfer of powers, were signed on March 18, 1962. The cease-fire became effective the following day. While the Accords had to be ratified by a referendum, the outcome was not in doubt. Even if the bloodletting that followed was on an enormous scale, France’s Algerian War was over.
Before drawing some conclusions regarding the wider impact of the Algerian War upon the French army, it is necessary to give some consideration to a key doctrinal product of the period, that of guerre révolutionnaire. It should be noted that while a product of the era, it is not suggested that the doctrine was a direct product of the Algerian War. It has often been argued that it formed the driving philosophy behind how French commanders conducted themselves during the campaign, a campaign in which cultured force was to give way to brute force. While there is much truth in this, it must also be recognized that to conflate the use of torture and the theory to the exclusion of other important aspects underpinning the doctrine is to be intellectually and historically unwise. The theory had its roots in the Indochina campaign, matured during the Algerian campaign, and was published after the loss of Algeria. In short, it was a “work in progress” commenced by Lacheroy and developed by Trinquier. The doctrinal waters are further muddied by the role played by Galula, who was to develop his own theory based on his extensive counterinsurgency experience.41 While Lacheroy and Trinquier were to rapidly gain a following in France, Galula did not, publishing abroad. It is important to understand the impact that these thinkers had upon the immediate conduct of operations within the respective theatres of Indochina and Algeria, but it is equally important to understand the longer-term legacy that they left.
Every process requires a catalyst and, in this case, the catalyst was Charles Lacheroy. A summary of Lacheroy’s career can be found in the biographical notes section, but a closer examination of the relatively short period that he was to spend in Indochina reveals the circumstances that were to shape the thinking that allowed him to posit the theory. Lacheroy was not a prolific writer and the detail that follows is taken from an interview that he gave to the Service historique de la Défense in 1997 and subsequent analysis of that interview by Villatoux and Villatoux.42 Before leaving France, in early 1951, he was advised by a senior officer that he had nothing to learn over there. However, in a little over two years, he had developed a new theory: action psychologique. It was this theory that Trinquier was to translate into guerre révolutionnaire, and which was to prove so alluring to many French military practitioners. While January 1953 saw the establishment of the first psychological warfare staff branch in Indochina, Lacheroy claims to have had no contact with them, designing his own methodology.
Having been mentored for three months by Colonel Rousson, an ex-prisoner of the Japanese who was deeply immersed in the culture of the country, he was posted to Bien Hoa and given command of the Bien Hoa sector by de Lattre. His forces disposed some 5,000–7,000 men: one regular regiment, 22e regiment d’infanterie coloniale (22 RIC, 22nd Colonial Infantry Regiment), and a diverse blend of indigenous troops. This command was followed by command of a larger sector, Thu Duc, with a force of 20,000, the vast majority of which were again local levies. Lacheroy’s conundrum was easy to enunciate but difficult to answer: given the resources to hand why had the French not already won? His intelligence officer explained that while they were able to accurately evaluate the quantity of first-line, regular Viet Minh units, the reality was that the entire population was involved to some degree or other. Their second echelon forces were drawn from everyday people, who were mobilized when needed. The Viet Minh was using them more and more to economize on the use of their first echelon forces. They were suffering losses of 50 percent “and thus I understood that the entire population were engaged in the struggle.”43 For Lacheroy, the enemy was conducting “Total War” in a new way. There were two hierarchies superimposed upon one another: a civil and a military. Rigid control was imposed and there were Viet Minh officials at every level of life. The military system was equally organized and administered. Lacheroy describes the two systems as a “system of double accounting” above which sat a third hierarchy, the Communist Party, comprising about 10 percent of the population,44 but omnipresent. He pondered the problem and the interview he gave in 1997 outlines some of his findings. Interestingly, Lacheroy does this through the medium of a series of examples, told as stories from which he extracted knowledge or wisdom. He recounts a story by which he illustrates a simple methodology: guerrillas caught mining a road are invited to de-mine it. They are told that if they agree to do so and there are no mine strikes in the following hour, they would immediately be treated as normal prisoners of war. There is resonance here with what was later claimed by Aussaresses and Trinquier: captured opponents would be tortured for information and then, the moment the required information was obtained, treated like prisoners of war. However, in the event of a mine being detonated within that hour, they would be executed as murderers. Clearly, he has no concerns over the use of summary justice and the fact that he does not reveal what would have happened to the prisoners had they opted not to enter into the contract offered is worthy of note.
In essence, these stories are presented as parables or fables. In so doing, Lacheroy, perhaps unwittingly, exposes the degree to which he had entered the mind of his enemy: the teaching of wisdom through parables being a common technique in the Far East. The key products were the need to realize that the entire population were engaged in the struggle, the need to “own the night,” the need to counter enemy propaganda and psychological operations, and the need to recognize the strength of the enemy’s will. This was to form the basis of his theory and the speed at which he developed it is a tribute to his intelligence and application, given the relatively short time he was to spend in Indochina.
He argued that there were, in fact, two “wars” being fought in Indochina, against two enemies: the conventional and the revolutionary. It was pointless to fight a war without understanding the core principles of war, and thus, there was an overriding need to train counterinsurgency troops in the relevant principles and to do so quickly. He set about instructing those in his command. A key initial step was quadrillage—subdividing territory into smaller areas of responsibility—to allow every junior commander to become master of his “turf.” He is clear that the most difficult “students” he had were senior officers, who required a fair degree of persuading regarding the efficacy of his approach. He is careful to note that the commander in chief, de Lattre, did embrace the theory and claims that this was due to the fact that the commander in chief’s son was fighting in the campaign as a young officer. He also explains that de Lattre’s successor, Salan, had no choice other than to focus on a conventional campaign, given the degree to which the enemy had transitioned to regular operations.
Before examining how Trinquier developed Lacheroy’s work, it is worth considering just why so many officers and senior noncommissioned officers embraced the theory. France’s postwar army and its officer corps, in particular, were far from unified. A very significant number had followed Vichy, either believing that their oath of fidelity to the Republic required them to do so or finding the politics of Vichy to be to their taste. While some were to see the writing on the wall and change sides, many did not. Those that did change at the last gasp were not trusted and those who remained with Vichy were neither trusted nor respected, especially if they had not been serving in the colonies. They were to find themselves in danger of being usurped by the minority who had followed de Gaulle into the Free French movement and believed that their time had come. To these two groups must be added a third element: those who had fought inside France, be they communists, socialists, nationalists, or conservative right-wingers. They regarded the other “sets” as being beneath them, but they were also quick to argue among themselves. It was this unstable mix that was required to enforce France’s will in the colonies. For the majority of these men, two concepts became articles of faith. A bouc-émissaire (scapegoat) had to be found to explain the core failings so cruelly exposed in the fall of France and the blame was attached to Communist machinations and the party’s loyalty to a wider, pan-international, political cause than France. The second tenet was that France’s recovery—economic, political, and psychological—would be led by her colonies. Thus, “Colonies and Communists” was a philosophy that received a ready welcome in many officers’ messes. That the defense of Indochina was rapidly seen to be a defense against communist insurgency, which, if unchecked, would prove highly contagious, merely fed this belief. For the army, the fall of Indochina was not due to military failure per se but rather due to political failure. France’s politicians had failed to deliver strategic coherence and the price was paid by those charged with conducting the front-line defense of Indochina. The fall of Dien Bien Phu was a glorious defeat, but it was far more than that: it was the “stab in the back” that confirmed that, once again, France’s political class could not formulate strategy to give to its army. For many, the menace that was the multi-stranded communist insurgency required a multi-stranded response that would have to be formulated and directed by the army if it was to succeed.
Trinquier’s theory of guerre révolutionnaire was based on the hypotheses that modern war was now no longer a matter of conducting conventional warfare on a grand scale. The arrival of nuclear weapons had rendered that both unwise and unlikely. Modern war was to be a war between the guerrilla and the forces of order. The war would be insidious and protracted. The center of gravity would always be the population. It was only by gaining the absolute control of the population that one could wrest it away from the grip of the guerrilla and his “double accounting.” That control would be won in stages with control through physical security being followed by control through making a better offer than the guerrilla could. Given the evident determination of the communist insurgent that had been displayed in Indochina, there would be a requirement for an uncompromising stance: negotiation was a tactic for the weak. To cut the head off the chicken that was the guerrilla movement, it would have to be isolated and then attacked in detail. The sooner that this could be achieved the better, as mass was, in itself, a threat as it provided maneuver space for the insurgent movement. Trinquier also accepted that, unlike conventional war, the riposte on this particular battlefield must be a civil-military one—a comprehensive approach. The destruction of the enemy must be total and very evidently so to win the confidence of the population: half-delivered success would only exacerbate the problem. The two-phase Battle of Algiers offers evidence of how critical this aspect of the theory was. Given the structure of an insurgent organization, the key to destruction was the rapid and continuous gathering of information that could be converted into intelligence. This would have the twin effects of physically reducing the enemy while also increasing the degree of pressure upon those remaining. Tight security would isolate the insurgent from supply and reassure the population. Trinquier advocated a blend of fixed positions (to safeguard key assets and to overtly reassure the population) and a mobile offensive element that would create uncertainty and disruption. He also moved from the theoretical to the particular: having outlined the “why” and the “what,” the theory is amplified to produce direction on the “how.” In essence, the “how” reflects the structures adopted for the Algerian campaign, including the organization of zones and sectors, the use of quadrillage, and the need to control the population through the means of identity cards and “responsible” people at every level: from house, to street, to district.
None of this is, at first pass, contentious. Indeed, much of what appears forms the basis of many modern counterinsurgency plans at both the operational and the tactical levels. He even provides the rationale for the SAS teams that were so successful in the hinterland. Thus, one might conclude that the theory is, at base, both sound and effective. In many ways it was, but it is now necessary to consider the degree to which Trinquier included torture within his theory. There can be no doubt that he does. It forms a small element of his book, but it is critical to understand the context within which he discusses it. Trinquier’s view was that the “terrorist claims the same honors [as the soldier] while rejecting the same obligations.”45 To afford the terrorist that consideration is unacceptable and the terrorist knows that. The aim must be to gather the required information in as efficient a manner as possible. Given Trinquier’s emphasis on maintaining tempo during action, “efficient” equates to “rapid.” He then suggests how this is best achieved: “No lawyer is present for such an interrogation. If the prisoner gives the information required, the examination is quickly terminated; if not, specialists must force his secret from him. Then, as a soldier, he must face the suffering, and perhaps the death, he has heretofore managed to avoid. The terrorist must accept this as a condition inherent in his trade and in the methods of warfare that, with full knowledge, his superiors and he himself have chosen.”46 He is clear that efficiency demands that the prisoner is only tortured for information that he could reasonably be expected to have—that is, information that relates to his cell or, if interrogating the cell leader, his immediate contacts at the next layer. Furthermore, in the interests of efficiency, the interrogation should only be conducted by specially trained personnel. Trinquier then states that, once the prisoner has divulged what is needed, the interrogation should cease and the prisoner be accorded the standard protection offered any prisoner of war. The chapter notes also refer to the fact that members of the French Resistance had violated the rules of war and thus knew that they could not hide behind them. Many of Trinquier’s generation had fought a very personal campaign against the German Gestapo and the Vichy Milice (paramilitary police force) in France during the years of occupation from 1940 to 1944. The threat, and use, of torture had been a very real and omnipresent danger. This is raised not to excuse Trinquier but to offer context to his view. The degree to which the use of torture has come to dominate the debate around guerre révolutionnaire is understandable and necessary, but it should not be allowed to detract attention from many of his other ideas. To describe it as a “theory of torture” is too simplistic, but events showed that it was a “tortured theory”: it was too open to being abused. It is not the purpose of this chapter to explore the enabling role torture played by France’s secret intelligence agencies, but there are very clear links between the function of the agencies and the commanders of the troops tasked to conduct opérations ponctuelles (direct support) at their behest. The BCRA and their successors, the Service de Documentation Extérieure et de Contre-espionnage (SDECE, Foreign Intelligence and Counter-Espionage Service), had enjoyed the benefit of having their own battalion of elite troops placed at their disposal since 1946. 11e Bataillon de Choc (11e Choc, or 11 Shock Battalion) were created for this role and were heavily involved in operations in both Indochina and Algeria. It is of note that both Aussaresses and Godard commanded 11e Choc and were thus hardwired into the covert world of intelligence and its methodology. Godard moved directly from a five-year spell as the unit’s commanding officer to assume his post as chief of staff of 10e DP. He was therefore ideally placed to influence Massu’s thinking on the use of torture. In seeking an explanation for the level of acceptance that appears to have been prevalent among influential commanders, one must consider the degree to which the command structure led the charge. This interesting area of study notwithstanding, Trinquier’s methodology—largely one of strict population control and ruthless destruction of the guerrilla networks—both urban and rural—was adopted and was instrumental in the delivery of tactical and operational victory.
The impact of Trinquier’s thinking and the high-profile exhibition in Algiers of what that thinking can deliver has tended to mask the work developed by another important theorist, David Galula. A brief biography of Galula can be found in the biographical notes attached to this chapter, but his qualifications for developing a theory of counterinsurgency were impeccable. The fact that Galula created little impact in France owes much to the fact that he was neither a senior officer nor a parachute officer. He did not belong to the airborne cabal and he had not served in Indochina. He was, however, a proud son of North Africa. He was to serve as company commander of colonial troops, 45e Bataillon d’Infanterie Coloniale (45th BIC, 45th Colonial Infantry Battalion) in Algeria between 1956 and 1958. His company was assigned to sector tasks in Kabylia, a region behind the Constantine littoral where the rugged physical geography had created an equally tough, independent, and parochial Berber population. The method by which Galula approached his work is illuminating. Refusing to be diverted by the “colonies and communists” mentality of many of his peers, Galula preferred to focus not on the rigid control of the population, but rather on the population itself, asking what it needed and how it might best be delivered. In so doing, Galula was to return to the core principle that had guided the men who had pacified North Africa. He was to return to the concepts enshrined in Lyautey’s oil-spot strategy: take, hold, build, and then propagate influence. In so doing, he argued that a properly protected and motivated local community would turn their face from the insurgents. This was the process of hearts and minds at work. The written standing orders that he gave to his company in October 1957 are worthy of study.47 The orders serve as a very clear summary of his theory and how it should look on the ground when in operation. It is surgical in its focus on the people and the need to serve that people to win the prize that they represent. It is perhaps only right that a French officer steeped in service in China should produce guidance that is rich in Maoist overtones: Mao’s “Three Rules of Discipline” and his “Eight Points for Attention,” issued in 1947, are all expressed. By doing so, Galula demonstrated that while he accepted the need to study the Communists, he arrived at an analysis that differed from Lacheroy and Trinquier. In practicing what was to develop into his Theory of Counterinsurgency Warfare, Galula was, in essence, returning to the principle of “cultured force.” He did so at a time when it was not fashionable among his peers and he suffered the fate of many a prophet in his own land. He was not noticed because those that should have noticed him found it inconvenient to do so: their focus was firmly upon “colonies and communists.”
If one defines “winning” as delivering operational success in the field, France won the war in Algeria. There is no doubt that the ALN were defeated. It is also clear that in winning the war on the ground, the French army stepped beyond its remit. In so doing, it contributed to losing the peace. The army appears to have done so willingly. Why? It has been posited that this campaign was the one that broke the camel’s back. A war-weary professional army was brought home from Indochina still smarting from the humiliation of defeat at the hands of an insurgent force. It felt betrayed by its own government and betrayed by its Western allies. In accusing its allies of betrayal, it skirted around the legitimacy of a French presence after 1945 and chose to ignore the subsequent anti-Communist campaigns fought in the Far East by American and Commonwealth troops. It is perhaps best to leave those arguments where they lie. In advancing the argument that they were betrayed at home, the French troops that fought in Algeria may be on firmer ground. Any counterinsurgency strategy must be holistic in its approach. If the prize is the fidelity of the population, it is not sufficient to win on the battlefield. France’s decision to leave Algeria, correct or otherwise, was a political one. Had the politicians advanced a sustainable plan, the required resolve would have been generated at governmental level, providing clear and enduring direction. The tragedy for those required to translate the policy into military action was that it was far from sustainable. This lack of sustainability was what lay at the root of the frustration felt by all stakeholders—political, military, and civilian.
The military, like nature, abhors a vacuum. In the absence of direction, it will fill that space with activity. In assessing the quality and legitimacy of that activity, one must consider the nature of the activity and what governed it. The role of the General Staff is to “operationalize” national strategy. Prior to the return of de Gaulle, France’s politicians failed to deliver a strategy to operationalize so the military commanders in the Algeria designed their own. This need not have been a retrograde step. It has been argued that France was among a small cadre of nations that had an army capable of designing and delivering an operational plan. It was able to reach back into a tradition of colonial enterprise where an experienced and competent group of soldier-administrators had routinely exercised command and, where required, driven theatre-specific policy. Those tasked with doing so were always required to make that policy fit a national one. This was a constraint that they embraced. In so doing, they exercised the use of “cultured” force.
French military policy makers in Algeria appeared to have many of the required attributes to continue this tradition. They were successful colonial soldiers who commanded experienced professional troops whose very raison d’être was the successful prosecution of colonial wars. The degree to which defeat in Indochina was to influence events in Algeria was striking. The contempt that many of the commanders had for ineffective politicians was deep, creating a readiness to depart from the French “script.” Thus, while the intent to do so was neither overt nor inevitable, the potential to do so existed. The experience of fighting the modern insurgency in Indochina was to prove formative, creating a new counterinsurgency strategy. Guerre révolutionnaire was added to more traditional methodologies by officers determined not to lose again. In the Algerian situation, they were able to identify many parallels with the operational and tactical approach adopted by their opponents in Indochina. Their response was mixed. Much of it was innovative and impressive. The core technique of blending sector security activity with high tempo, highly kinetic intelligence-led strike operations was efficient. The ability to exploit intelligence was developed to an impressive degree. Much of today’s modern Human Terrain Analysis has its roots in the French approach in Algeria. The fact that the army was able to absorb such a high number of reservists and conscripts while maintaining the operational and tactical edge over their opponents speaks volumes about the professionalism and esprit de corps of its professional cadre, doubly so given the high degree of recalcitrants that the reinforcement contained. The skilled use of native troops is to be expected as this was a tried and tested method of generating force. The embracing of new techniques, be it the SAS or the development of air-cavalry operations, also indicates a readiness to use intellect and innovation. Equally, the ease with which elite intervention units were able to switch between rural and urban operations indicates the presence of mentally agile commanders.
Taken at face value, the fact that the French had delivered operational success by 1960 is impressive. The modern student of counterinsurgency can, and should, learn much from the underpinning foundations of that success. The student must, however, consider the reverse side of the coin. France’s soldiers fought a brutally efficient campaign but did so in a vacuum. The requirement to fill it pushed commanders into a space they had no right to inhabit. Caught between the need to serve the needs of local and national politicians while being required to protect a colon community that many of the army strongly identified with, it opted to embrace techniques that dishonored it. It entered politics and found it addictive. It treated the indigenous population in a manner that revolted both the population and many of the soldiers tasked with securing it. The use of torture was perhaps the clearest indication of the degree to which the army had departed from its roots. One cannot conduct a mission civilisatrice by behaving like a barbarian. To justify doing so by reference to the need to achieve results in the absence of political direction is unacceptable. Many within the ranks of France’s army knew this, and also knew that while its politicians deserved its contempt, it risked earning the contempt of, and censure by, the society from which it sprung.
France was shaken by the fact that elements of its armed forces had defied the state that it had sworn to uphold. The judicial response to their rebellion was, in part, tempered by the realization that there had been a policy vacuum and the need to acknowledge that many in France sympathized with the army. While death sentences were pronounced, none of the senior plotters were executed. General Massu, having avoided becoming enmeshed in the Putsch and remaining a towering figure within the army, exploited de Gaulle’s need to ensure the loyalty of the army during the internal unrest in 1968 by forcing a concession from the president. In late 1968, de Gaulle issued a General Amnesty to all under sentence for acts committed during the war. Legally, the issue was closed, but perhaps one might reflect on the philosopher Edmund Burke’s words, taken from a speech made during election hustings in Bristol, England, on September 6, 1780: “In doing good, we are generally cold, and languid, and sluggish; and of all things afraid of being too much in the right. But the works of malice and injustice are quite in another style. They are finished with a bold, masterly hand; touched as they are with the spirit of those vehement passions that call forth all our energies, whenever we oppress and persecute.”48
This is what transpired and the French army was to pay a heavy price in the following decades: Algeria was indeed the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Aussaresses, Paul (1918–2013). Aussaresses commenced his military career in 1941, serving as an aspirant (officer cadet) in Vichy-controlled Algeria. Following the transfer of Algeria to Free French control, he was to be introduced to life in Special Forces almost immediately, serving in a Jedburgh team in German-occupied France. (Jedburgh teams were small groups dropped into occupied countries with the task of enhancing the capabilities of local resistance groups via the use of training and provision of air-dropped supplies.) He was to transfer into 11e Choc in late 1946, commanding it between 1947 and 1948, before handing over to Godard. He saw service in Indochina before moving to Algeria in 1955, having been posted to the staff as an intelligence officer. There is evidence to suggest that the bilan (cost) of the Philippeville massacre of August 20, 1955, would have been far higher but for the impact that Aussaresses’ intelligence cell had already created among the local ALN/FLN network. Aussaresses’ facility with this nature of work brought him to the notice of the higher command in Algeria. He, in conjunction with Trinquier, would lead the intelligence effort during the Battle of Algiers where he was known as “Commandant O” (Major O). His role and its efficacy are considered in the text, but the full details were not to emerge until he chose to give a series of interviews over a two-month period (September–October 2000) to Le Monde newspaper. During these interviews, it became clear that his modus operandi was well understood by senior officers and administrators in Algeria. The product of the interviews was published, and an unrepentant Aussaresses is quoted as stating, “I am resolutely in favor of the use of torture, no remorse, no regrets.”49 He also admitted to hanging Ben H’hidi and defenestrating Ali Boumendjel. The legal response in France was risible. Clearly, his superiors had harbored no regrets either as, after Algeria, he was posted to the United States as a defense attaché in 1961, where he lectured at Fort Bragg, North Carolina. He was promoted to colonel and posted to NATO Headquarters, before finishing his military career as the defense attaché in Brazil. He was to work as an arms salesman for Thomson but also advised several South American juntas.
Bigeard, Marcel (1916–2010). Bigeard was born into a family of humble origins, his father being a railwayman. He commenced employment in a bank at the age of 14, proving himself to be a reliable worker. He commenced his obligatory military service in 1936 and served two years in a line infantry regiment garrisoning the Maginot Line. He was recalled in 1939, given the rank of sergeant and posted back into the Maginot Line. His qualities shone out and the fall of France saw him holding warrant rank. He escaped from a prisoner of war camp in late 1941 and joined the Free French. He was commissioned in 1943 and was dropped into occupied France as part of a Jedburgh team, winning the British Distinguished Service Order (DSO) while holding the temporary rank of major. His immediate postwar service saw him commence a 10-year relationship with Indochina where he commanded a wide range of indigenous troops before being posted home to assist in the raising and training of 3e Bataillon de Parachutistes Coloniaux (3 BPC, 3rd Battalion, Colonial Parachute Regiment) that was forming in France, but he returned to Indochina in 1948 seeing combat duty with indigenous troops. He assumed command of 6e Bataillon de Parachutistes Coloniaux (6 BPC, 6th Battalion, Colonial Parachute Regiment) as a major in 1952. 6 BPC rapidly gained a reputation for excellence, which was reinforced at the siege of Dien Bien Phu in 1954. According to the author Erwin Bergot, himself a decorated combat veteran, the tough French Foreign Legion knew 6 BPC as “the puritans.” Bigeard’s personal standing as a commander was hugely enhanced by two factors. He was an accomplished self-publicist, but, much more importantly, he played a key role in the leadership and management of the “paratrooper mafia” that commanded the defense at Dien Bien Phu. Bigeard was promoted to lieutenant colonel in the latter stages of the siege before going into captivity. His period as a prisoner of war was short but highly formative in terms of his approach to counterinsurgency in Algeria where he commanded 3e Regiment de Parachutistes Coloniaux (3 RPC, 3rd Colonial Parachute Regiment), a key element within 10 Parachute Division. Bigeard’s men excelled in the intervention role but were deployed into Algiers to combat the ALN in the Casbah. His approach was direct and effective but also brutal. Despite his later protestations that torture was a “necessary evil,” evidence suggests that his units used torture as a matter of routine. He handed 3 RPC to Trinquier in March 1958 to assume command of the Centre d’instruction et de préparation à la contre-guérilla (CIPCG, Counter-Insurgency Training Center) at Philippeville. He returned to field command, but Bigeard was to play no part in the Generals’ Putsch in 1961. Despite the frustration and humiliation of Dien Bien Phu, Bigeard stood above politics and his loyalty was rewarded. The man who started his military life as a conscripted private soldier ended it as a four-star general, retiring in 1976. Having studiously avoided politics during his service, he sat as a deputy in the Assemblée Nationale between 1978 and 1988. Always known by his World War II radio call-sign, “Bruno,” he died in June 2010.
Challe, Maurice (1905–79). Challe was a graduate of St. Cyr, the military academy where France prepares her elite officer candidates who have passed a demanding entrance examination for their future career, commenced pilot training in 1925. He was promoted to captain in 1932 and attended the Air Force Staff College during 1937–39. He flew sorties during the Battle of France. After the armistice in 1940, he commanded a reconnaissance group before joining the Resistance after the Germans moved to occupy all of France. After D-Day, he commanded a bomber squadron. He was posted to Air Force Headquarters in 1947 before being promoted to brigadier and assuming command of air units in Morocco. He was selected to command the Air Force Staff College in 1953. He took part in the high-level negotiations that preceded Operation Mousquetaire (Suez) in 1956 before moving to become second in command to Salan on October 1, 1958. He succeeded Salan on December 12, 1958.
Delouvrier, Paul (1914–95). After studying law and political science, Delouvrier fought as a lieutenant in a Motorised Infantry Unit in 1940. Having passed the concours for the Inspectorate of Finances, his studies were disrupted in 1942. He joined the Resistance, rising to command a Gaulliste maquis (French Resistance forces living in the field) unit in 1944. His unit was tasked with the role of receiving General de Gaulle and driving him to Paris in the event that the 2nd Armoured Division could not. Following the Liberation, he followed a career typical of those tipped for high office in the civil service. He became a highly valued leader of teams supporting politicians such as Lepercq, Monnet, and Mayer before being appointed deputy director general of Taxation, charged with reforming fiscal structures. He gained considerable experience in matters relating to the new Europe, taking part in the preparation of the Treaty of Rome and playing a critical part in the creation of the European Investment Bank where he was to later to become vice president. He was appointed delegate general on December 19, 1958.
Galula, David (1919–67). Galula’s theories are considered in greater detail in the latter part of the main text, but, like Robert Trinquier, his career offers useful context. Born into a Jewish family in Tunisia and receiving his secondary education in Casablanca, he graduated from St. Cyr in 1940. Despite his evident talent, he was expelled from the officer corps by the Vichy administration in 1941 on the grounds of his religion and returned to North Africa from where he returned to service in time for the Liberation in 1944. He was posted to Beijing as an assistant military attaché in the following year. He was well placed to consider the ramifications of the Greek Civil War while serving with the United Nations in the Balkans. He returned to service as a military attaché in Hong Kong between 1952 and 1956 before serving as a company commander in 45e Bataillon d’Infanterie Coloniale (45 BIC, 45th Colonial Infantry Battalion) in Algeria until 1958. His approach to work in his sector of Kabylia was highly effective, exploiting his wealth of experience and willingness to transfer that experience into effective action. His company’s record shows what a well-led and well-motivated body of troops could achieve while anchored to sector tasks. He transferred to Defense Headquarters in Paris and then attended Staff College at L’Ecole de Guerre. Keen to develop the army’s counterinsurgency capabilities, he suffered the fate and frustrations of many a “prophet in his own land” and resigned his commission in 1962 to study at Harvard. He published Pacification in Algeria in 1963 before producing his major work, Counterinsurgency in Warfare: Theory and Practice in 1964. Both works consider counterinsurgency through the prism of case studies of Indochina, Greece, and Algeria. He died prematurely due to lung cancer.
Godard, Yves (1911–75). A career soldier and graduate of St. Cyr (1932), Godard joined the Chasseurs Alpins (Alpine Troops). Serving in the Maginot Line, he was taken prisoner at the fall of France but escaped in March 1944 to join the maquis in Savoy. He reconstituted and assumed command of 27e Bataillon de Chasseurs Alpins (27 BCA) in late 1944, retaining command until early 1946. Occupation and staff duties followed, but he was posted into command of 11 Bataillon Parachutiste de Choc (11e Choc, 11 Shock Battalion) in 1948, leading them on operations in Indochina. 11e Choc’s role was to provide direct support to French intelligence agencies, involving them in a range of deniable operations. Godard would lead them until 1953, forging close links with intelligence officers, links that would be central to his role in the headquarters of Massu’s 10 DP during the second phase of the Battle of Algiers. His reward was to be appointed director general of the Sureté (Special Branch) in Algeria in May 1958, overseeing 36 intelligence sections and 18 security sections. He would also help suppress “Barricades Week” in January 1960. He was to play a role in the Generals’ Putsch in 1961, commanding the efforts in north Algiers, and joining the OAS after the failure of the putsch. He was to die in exile in Belgium in 1975.
Jouhaud, Edmund (1905–95). Born near Oran, and therefore a pied noir, Jouhaud was an officer in the air force with a wartime Free French pedigree. He had commanded the air force in Indochina in the closing stages of the campaign, before moving home to Algeria in April 1957 to assume command of the 5th Air Force Region. He had played a role in the Committee of Public Safety and had thus lost the trust of de Gaulle. Like Salan, he was “kicked upstairs” to assume the post of chief of staff of the air force. He retired in October 1960 and returned to Algeria where he was to become embroiled in the planning for the putsch. He was arrested, court-martialled, and condemned to death (later commuted to life imprisonment) before benefiting from the Amnesty of 1968.
Lacheroy, Charles (1906–2005). Lacheroy graduated from St. Cyr in 1927. A confirmed colonial soldier, he joined the 6e Bataillon de tirailleurs sénégalais (6th Battalion, Senegalese Tirailleurs) serving with them in West Africa from 1928 to 1930. He then spent five years in the Levant, before transferring to Morocco where he was arrested in late 1940 for assisting agents operating in support of the Free French. Imprisoned in Clermont-Ferrand, he shared a cell with Pierre Mendès-France, before the charges against him were dismissed for lack of evidence. He rejoined la Coloniale (Colonial Infantry, equating to Marines) serving in Tunisia and Mauritania. In June 1942, he assumed the lead for logistics in General Salan’s headquarters in Dakar before moving to Algiers and then taking part in the Italian Campaign with 2nd Corps. The end of the war saw him serving with the 9e division d’infanterie coloniale (9th Colonial Infantry Division) in de Lattre’s 1st French army. Given command of a battalion from the Ivory Coast, he took part in public order operations in West Africa before returning to France in 1950, charged with preparing young officers for overseas service with la Coloniale. He agitated for, and received, a posting to Indochina at the start of 1951. He commanded sectors in Bien Hoa and Thu Duc, and it was here that he began to develop his theory of guerre révolutionnaire. Promoted to lieutenant colonel, he was to leave Indochina in the summer of 1953. He did not return. Lacheroy then served as a military advisor in the Ministry of Defense, before being posted to Algeria in 1958. He assumed the post of director of Information and Psychological Action Services in Algiers. He was to later to become the director of the Ecole supérieure des officers de reserve spécialistes d’état-major (Staff College for Reserve Staff Officers). He resigned his commission to take part in the Generals’ Putsch and followed the almost inevitable course of joining the OAS and receiving a death sentence in absentia before benefitting from the General Amnesty of 1968. He died on January 25, 2005.
Lacoste, Robert (1898–1989). Robert Lacoste was mobilized in time to see the end of World War I. While his war service was short, it left him with a deep respect for, and pride in, the French army. He qualified as a lawyer in Paris, joined the civil service, and rapidly became enmeshed in trade unionism, rising through the ranks of the Confédération générale du travaille (CGT, General Confederation of Work, a labor union), in the 1930s. The CGT was to suffer internal schism over the Munich Agreement, with Lacoste joining the “anti-Munich” camp. He was mobilized for the second time in 1940 but was vocal in his condemnation of the Vichy administration. He joined the strongly Leftist “Liberation-Nord” resistance movement before coming to a rapprochement with Vichy. Returned to an administrative post, he nonetheless continued his resistance activities in a covert manner. He was to play a role in establishing the provisional government and was rewarded with a series of ministerial posts. By the time of his appointment as minister in residence in Algiers in February 1956, Lacoste had held seven ministerial positions. His arrival in Algeria was not well received by the colons, who saw his relatively enlightened approach to the indigenous population as threatening. Unperturbed, he attempted to drive through his “loi-cadre” reforms. He was to take an uncompromising line over the Battle of Algiers, handing control to the army. He left Algeria in May 1958. His reforms were voted out in the Assemblée Nationale. He was to offer strong support to de Gaulle and remained a fervent supporter of a French Algeria while serving as a deputy and then senator until 1980. He died in March 1989.
Massu, Jacques (1908–2002). Massu, from a military family, graduated from St. Cyr in 1930 and joined the Colonial Infantry, serving with the Regiment de Tirailleurs Sénégalaise (RTS, Senegalese Light Infantry). Much of his service as a subaltern officer involved operations in Morocco, but he also saw service in Togo and Chad. In the aftermath of the fall of France in 1940, Massu opted for the Free French immediately, serving under Leclerc and finishing the war as a lieutenant colonel. He saw postwar service in Indochina and promoted, at the age of 47, to brigadier general in 1955. He assumed command of Groupe parachutiste d’Intervention (GPI, Parachute Intervention Force), the antecedent formation of 10 Parachute Division (10 DP). Massu would come to international prominence as the commander of 10 DP in Algeria and Suez. Massu delivered victory in the Battle of Algiers but was to be linked to allegations of torture and murder. He was to become involved in the Committee of Public Safety in May 1958 and Operation Résurrection, the threatened coup d’état, but navigated his way through the subsequent political minefield, promoting to three-star rank in July 1958. (French military custom sees brigadier generals carry two stars, thus three-star rank equates to major general.) Massu was to be removed from Algeria in January 1960 following an ill-advised interview with a German newspaper. He served as military governor of Metz and commander of the 6th Military District, being promoted to four-star rank in 1963. He assumed command of French forces in Germany in 1966, gaining his fifth star. He retired from the army in July 1969. He died on October 26, 2002.
Mollet, Guy (1906–75). Mollet, a life-long socialist, cut his political teeth in trade union activity, joining the Section française de l’International Ouvrière (SFIO) (French Section of the Workers’ International) at the age of 23. The SFIO were the forebearers of the current Parti Socialiste. Having completed his obligatory military service, he returned to local politics. Wounded and taken prisoner in 1940, he ended the war as a highly decorated member of the Resistance, having served with the leftist Forces Françaises d’Intérieur (FFI). He was elected mayor of Arras in 1945, transitioning into national politics when he was elected a deputy in 1946. He briefly became a minister of state in Blum’s short-lived administration, but from 1950 he was to prove an enduring political presence during the 1950s, developing a firm grasp of European affairs. Mollet led a minority administration from February 1956 to June 1957. Despite driving through the steps required to achieve independence for Morocco and Tunisia, his Algerian policy stressed “an indivisible union between Algeria and Metropolitan France” but also acknowledged the need to respect the “character of Algeria.” He saw his policy as being built on a three-pronged approach: “cease-fire, elections, negotiations.” Perhaps ironically for such an ardent socialist, he also brought in the Special Powers Laws that permitted military involvement in police affairs in Algeria as well as authorizing the establishment of internment camps. He was to appoint Robert Lacoste as the minister in residence in Algeria. Under Mollet, the number of troops deployed in Algeria doubled, partly due to his controversial decision to use conscripts. The Anglo-French operations in Suez also occurred during his tenure in office. Mollet was to resign over a failure to win a vote of confidence concerning fiscal policy. Despite being asked to form another administration by President Coty within months of resigning, he was unable to win sufficient votes to do so.
Salan, Raoul (1899–1984). Salan, a confirmed colonial soldier, entered service in 1917. A graduate of St. Cyr, he arrived on the Western Front in time to see the closing stages of the fighting at Verdun. He was to be gravely wounded in the Levant during campaigning in 1920–21. While his nickname “The Mandarin” reflected the proportion of his career that was devoted to service in Indochina, it owed more to his proximity to French intelligence. The outbreak of World War II saw him assume command of a battalion of Regiment de Tirailleurs Sénégalaise (RTS, Senegalese Light Infantry). Following the armistice, the Vichy administration posted him to Dakar where he led the military intelligence branch. He transferred his allegiance to the Free French, serving in Algiers and then during the Liberation. The end of the war saw him in the rank of general. He commanded French forces in postwar Tonkin and became commander in chief in 1952 following de Lattre’s death. Political changes at home saw him removed from post in less than a year, forced to make way for Navarre. He received command of the 10th Military District (Algeria) on December 14, 1956, replacing a tired and ineffective Lorillot. Ironically, given what was to transpire, his arrival was met with hostility by the colon community who saw him as left-wing and tainted by the withdrawal from Indochina. Nonetheless, he was to be instrumental in underwriting de Gaulle’s return to power, but, having dabbled in politics and with a firm pedigree in intelligence work, “The Mandarin” could not be trusted to remain in such an influential post. He was “elevated” to inspector general of the army to remove him from Algeria. Early retirement was inevitable and it was from retirement that he launched the General’s Putsch in 1961. Its failure drove him underground where he played a major role in the activities of the extremist Organisation Armée Secrète. He was condemned to death in absentia, arrested in Algiers, and then imprisoned until the General Amnesty of 1968.
Soustelle, Jacques (1942–90). Soustelle was to play a pivotal role in events during the Algerian War. Born into a working-class Protestant family, and with early leanings toward Marxist pacifism, he became a talented and multilingual academic who specialized in the ethnography of Mexico. Initially posted to Mexico in February 1940 as the Assistant Defense Attaché, he joined the Free French after the fall of France and set about the task of frustrating Vichy France’s diplomatic efforts in South America. Recalled to London, he assumed control of the Bureau Central de Renseignements et d’Action (BCRA, Central Bureau for Intelligence and Action), the Free French intelligence service. He moved to running Information Operations in 1942 before crossing to Algeria in 1943 to return to intelligence work as head of the Direction générale des services spéciaux (DGSS, Special Services Directorate) during 1943–44. He was appointed Préfet (a high ranking civil servant who represents the state) of Bordeaux before taking his seat in the Constituent Assembly as deputy for Mayenne. In the immediate postwar years, he served as minister for information, minister of the colonies, and secretary general of the Gaullist Rassemblement du Peuple Francaise (RPF). His loyalty to de Gaulle was rewarded by an appointment as governor general of Algeria in 1955. This appointment was not without controversy, as many regarded him as having a natural tendency toward greatly enhanced Algerian autonomy, if not independence. While this may have been the case prior to the Philippeville massacre, he subsequently took an unwavering “repression first, reforms after” line. He secured Algeria for de Gaulle in the face of the May 1958 revolt but received the Overseas Departments portfolio rather than his preferred one, secretary of state for Algeria, signaling a growing rupture with de Gaulle over Algerian policy. He was to be linked with the extremist Organisation Armée Secrète and was forced into exile between 1961 and 1968 when he returned to France, and an active role in French politics, having benefitted from the General Amnesty of 1968.
Trinquier, Roger (1908–86). Trinquier published his thinking on counterinsurgency operations in La Guerre moderne (Modern War) in 1961. This is considered in detail in the main text, but a summary of his career offers valuable context. Born into a peasant family in the Hautes-Alpes region of France, he took a traditional route for advancement for an intellectually strong, but financially weak, student and trained as a school teacher. He was called up for military service in 1928 and was sent to Reserve Officers’ School, again a traditional destination for school teachers fulfilling their military service obligations. He decided to remain in the army and, after further officer training, graduated as a second lieutenant in 1933. He joined la Coloniale and rapidly embraced the considerable independent command opportunities, which this afforded him. After an initial period of service in Indochina, he was posted to China in 1938 where he learned Mandarin Chinese. As a company commander, he witnessed the Japanese invasion of China and was interned by them in 1945. Following his release and return to France, he was tasked with raising, training, and subsequently commanding the 2nd Colonial Commando Parachute Battalion (2 BCCP) in Indochina, which was used for counterinsurgency operations between 1947 and 1949. This was the first time that his innovative tactical approach would bring him to the attention of his superiors. A second spell of service in Indochina from late 1951 saw him acting as adjoint (second in command) of Groupement de Commandos Mixtes Aéroportés (GCMA, Composite Airborne Commando Group). This formation-sized organization was charged with conducting operations behind enemy lines and supporting intelligence activity. By 1953, Trinquier, although still only a major, was in effective command of some 20,000 men. The French government was to abandon these indigenous troops following the debacle at Dien Bien Phu. Trinquier was promoted to lieutenant colonel in 1955 and sent to Paris, serving as a staff officer to General Jean Gilles, commander of Airborne Troops. He returned to Algeria in 1956, quickly being handpicked to fill a critical intelligence role in Massu’s 10th Parachute Division as they fought the Battle of Algiers. He inherited command of 3e Régiment Parachutistes Coloniaux (3 RPC, 3rd Colonial Parachute Regiment) from Bigeard and commanded it during the Challe Offensive. He returned to France to fill a sedentary staff post and, finding it beyond forbearance, requested his release from service. After a very brief spell as a military advisor in Katanga, in Belgian Congo, he was in Greece when the Generals’ Putsch took place in 1961. Had he been in Algeria, there is little doubt that he would have supported it. He returned to France, publishing his seminal work on counterinsurgency in 1961.
Zeller, André-Marie (1896–1979). Zeller enlisted in the artillery in May 1915 and saw extensive service on the Western Front before deciding to remain in the postwar army. A talented staff officer he filled a series of posts prior to the outbreak of World War II. He escaped to England before deciding to return to France. He was posted to Algeria in September 1940, reaching the rank of lieutenant colonel in 1942 and transferring his allegiance to the Free French. He served as Juin’s deputy chief of staff in the Corps expéditionnaire français (CEF, French Expeditionary Corps) before assuming the posts of divisional artillery commander in two divisions. He was promoted to brigadier general in 1946, receiving his next start in 1950 when he took command of the 3rd Military Region. He was then promoted to lieutenant general in 1955, becoming chief of staff of Army Headquarters but only to resign the following year in protest at reductions in army manning levels in Algeria. He returned to the post in December 1957, holding it until retiring in October 1959. His role in the putsch focused on finance. He was arrested, sentenced to 15 years’ imprisonment, being released in 1966, and amnestied in 1968.
1. B. Singer and J. Langdon, Cultured Force, Makers and Defenders of the French Colonial Empire (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2004), p. 63.
2. M. Evans, Algeria: France’s Undeclared War (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), p. 335.
3. A negative cycle of events, “enmeshed.”
4. The elections in October 1945 saw women vote for first time. Seventy-five percent of the electorate voted Socialist or Communist. The PCF took 27 percent, the Socialists took 24 percent, while the MRP gained 25 percent of the vote. De Gaulle left his post in the face of the Left’s victory but continued to have great influence.
5. Nine million for, 8 million against, with 8 million abstentions.
6. F. Cailleteau, Guerre Inutiles? (Paris: Economica, 2011), p. 71.
7. Ibid., p. 70.
8. Alistair Horne, A Savage War of Peace: Algeria 1954–1962 (London: Papermac, 1987), p. 98.
9. J. Talbot, The War without Name: France in Algeria 1954–1962 (London: Faber and Faber, 1981), p. 38.
10. Ibid., p. 39.
11. Search and destroy, combing out.
12. Hooking onto, holding in contact.
13. Horne, Savage War of Peace, p. 122.
14. See biographical notes for details of his career.
15. H. Canuel, “French Counterinsurgency in Algeria: Forgotten Lessons from a Misunderstood Conflict,” Small Wars Journal (2010), accessed June 18, 2014, http://smallwarsjournal.com/blog/journal/docs-temp/389-canuel.pdf.
16. See biographical notes for details of his career.
17. Ibid.
18. For further details on the role of the SAS, see G. Mathias, Les sections administratives spécialisées en Algérie entre idéal et réalité 1955–1962 (Paris, L’Harmattan, 1998).
19. Governor General Lacoste had proposed a political solution based upon what could be described as “a mixture of federation and partition.” It was met with implacable opposition by the colon lobby, and while Lacoste had been willing to ride roughshod over them, he could not circumvent the effect of a rejection, albeit a close one (279 to 253) by the Assemblée Nationale on September 30, 1957.
20. See biographical notes for details of his career.
21. David Porch, Counterinsurgency: Exposing the Myth of the New Way of War (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), p. 192.
22. See biographical notes for details of his career.
23. Ibid.
24. Ibid.
25. Ibid.
26. Ibid.
27. Ibid.
28. Ibid.
29. See Paul Aussaresses, Services Spéciaux, Algérie 1955–57 (Paris: Perrin, 2001), for a full account of Aussaresses’ approach.
30. Roger Trinquier, Modern Warfare: A French View of Counterinsurgency (Westport, CT: Praeger, 2006), Ch. 4.
31. Canuel, “French Counterinsurgency in Algeria.”
32. See biographical notes for details of his career.
33. Ibid.
34. Horne, Savage War of Peace, p. 374.
35. Ibid, p. 375.
36. B. Ledwidge, De Gaulle (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1982), p. 252.
37. Horne, Savage War of Peace, p. 531.
38. Ibid, p. 436.
39. See biographical notes for details of his career.
40. Ibid.
41. Those wishing to consider Galula’s theory in greater detail should see David Galula, Counterinsurgency Warfare: Theory and Practice (Westport, CT: Praeger, 2006), and Pacification in Algeria, 1956–1958 (Santa Monica, CA: Rand, 2006). Valuable context is offered by A. Cohen, Galula: The Life and Writings of the French Officer Who Defined the Art of Counterinsurgency (Santa Barbara, CA: ABC-CLIO, 2012).
42. Marie-Catherine et Paul Villatoux, “Aux origines de la ‘guerre révolutionnaire’: le colonel Lacheroy parle,” Revue historique des armées [online] 268 (2012). Accessed June 26, 2014, http://rha.revues.org/7512.
43. Ibid.
44. Ibid.
45. Trinquier, Modern Warfare, p. 18.
46. Ibid., p. 19.
47. Reproduced in Cohen, Galula, Appendix A.
48. Edmund Burke, A Speech of Edmund Burke, Esq. at the Guildhall, in Bristol: Previous to the Late Election in that City, upon Certain Points Relative to His Parliamentary Conduct. Originally published by R. Marchbank, 1780, accessed June 27, 2014, http://books.google.com/… /A_Speech_of_Edmund_Burke_Esq_at_the_Guil.html.
49. Interview published in Le Monde, November 23, 2000.