I woke up in a cold sweat at precisely 06.00. My camarades would be getting out of bed and realizing that I wasn't there. In a few minutes, the chef would be opening my armoire with steel cutters to confiscate my belongings. I fell asleep again and had a nightmare about the shame I was bringing on my family. For over a week, I did little more than sleep all day and get up to wait for Marianne in the evenings—a bit of an anti-climax after the Foreign Legion's rush.